By Salvatore A. Barcia Jr.

Posted October 21, 2020

It’s well documented I am far from handy.  My wife Nori and I celebrate putting together an IKEA desk, and I often contact others with more experience to help with odd jobs.  In recent years I’ve tried expanding my abilities: securing tools; reviewing online tips; even purchasing a drill.

Over time I’ve had my share of successes . . . and failures.

Summers of Yore

The summer of 1991 was one of youthful exploration.  I had graduated Rutgers, was preparing for graduate school, and had the opportunity to travel and perform abroad.  Upon returning home I was enjoying good times with friends and making some cash before returning to school.

I went back to a job pumping gas at Hess.  It was a hot summer at an incredibly busy corner.  The last bastion of old-time service stations, we were required to wash windows and check oil.  Unlike a 1950s sitcom, however, many customers were annoyed with the offer.  Some pulled in with an 80s holdover Monte Carlo (always freshly waxed) and responded, “Yo, be careful with the caw!”

One customer liking my work ethic offered me a job with his local contracting business.  Having no experience or know-how, of course I took the job.  It was $6 an hour (not bad) and regular weekday hours.

Summers of Recent Yore

The summer of 2016, on the other hand, was an average summer a parent might experience: small getaways, time with family and friends, and catching-up on projects.  When the day came to install new blinds I was determined to do it myself.  The simplest jobs require a Herculean effort for the handy-challenged.  I needed to secure brackets and hang the blinds, but the screws couldn’t pierce the metal under the drywall.  A momentary detour for someone more adept, I was preparing for King Arthur’s quest.

Glad I bought the drill.

My son Luciano, only five years old, was eager to sit and watch.  He sat across the room – best for anyone to stay far away while I handled machinery.  Because I didn’t want him to watch me give up, success became much more important.

The College Kid

I began my new job with an unfortunate faux pas.  Told to bring a “ruler,” I grabbed one usually reserved for grade-school classroom projects.  Since I misunderstood the trade lingo for “tape measure” I was immediately mocked and labeled the “college kid” who didn’t grasp the real world.

Sigh.

Still, the job went along well and I got to taste the building trades.  Unfortunately these skilled careers aren’t given proper due these days.  The jobs are lucrative, there is pride in building, and you can overcome helplessness with the ability to construct and repair.

My workmate Bob taught me a lot, but often seemed annoyed since I frequently needed re-explaining about obvious things.  Over time, though, we developed a rapport and even shared some jokes.  As we pressed on through the summer I remained careful to avoid catastrophic errors.

Needle in a Haystack

In goes the drill.  First bit, too big to pierce the metal.  Second bit, seems too weak.  Like Goldilocks I kept trying different sizes.  Sweat poured down.  Luciano watched with intensity as I swallowed my frustration.  Nori would periodically ask for an update, and each time I offered a new stalling line.  Drilling, drilling . . . it seemed I would never install the blinds.

The Staining

We undertook a job finishing a basement, and my task was to stain the doors.  With a new carpet in place, I had to be extra careful.  The entire morning I delicately stained each door, feeling more confident as the day progressed.  Towards the end I was singing through my work, not a drop of stain in sight.

Then it happened.

On my last door, the can of stain tipped (I don’t remember how) and flooded the ironically hole-filled tarp.  I fell into a slow-motion dream state unable to halt the can’s tumble.  Then my eyes popped out like a cartoon character seeing an anvil coming (the wide availability of anvils in the cartoon world is quite astonishing).

My first reaction was denial:  “It’s Okay!  It’s Okay!  Right!?!”

I knew better watching the stain quickly discover every hole.  As I desperately tried to clean my mess, I prayed it was disappearing ink.  My faulty attempt was interrupted by the owner’s voice behind me.

“What’s going on?” he suspiciously demanded.

His voice had the depth of Darth Vader.  My recollection adds labored mechanical breathing, a questioning of my faith in the force, and a death grip around my neck.  The camera zoomed into my face while the background moved at a different speed, like Brody realizing there was a shark attack.  There was no way out, and my mind constructed elaborate tales of what might now happen.

The end result, though, was a collection of standard (profuse) apologies and appropriate cleanup (getting the carpet close to normal).  I felt awful.  The worst part was showing I was just a “college kid” who didn’t belong there, the rest of the guys probably thinking I should go back to my textbooks.

Small Success

Moving past my difficulties (clearly I retained very little from my 1991 summer job), I was determined to succeed installing these blinds.  I didn’t want to disappoint my son or hear Nori ask to call someone for help.  This seemingly simple challenge carried great weight.

My drilling continued.  Still no way around the obstacle.  Expletives filled inner monologues.

Finally, I discovered the elusive bit able to pierce the frame.  The drill made a speedy leap as it burst through the obstruction.  Feeling proud, I loudly exclaimed “Yessss!”  Luciano charged off shouting, “Daddy got through the metal!  Daddy got through the metal!”  Racing like Paul Revere, he elevated this minor accomplishment into a historical event.  I ignore the hidden holes in the wall and instead think of his joy every time I raise the blinds.

Winners and Losers

Sometimes the small wins matter, and such victories are grand.  It was fantastic watching Luciano’s excitement as I pierced the wall . . . and awful hearing the voice behind me knowing I had stained the carpet.  While the former heightened my image for Luciano, the latter lowered it for my co-workers.

Or did it?

Perhaps I convinced myself of their judgment.  Their joking was a rite of passage.  I gather every apprentice has had an unfortunate spill or accident.  Light-hearted razzing sometimes pulls you into the fold, and a failure keeps you on your toes.  By the end of the summer they were more welcoming, possibly respecting that I did not run off at the first sign of trouble.  And I was stronger from the experience.

We all need wins, but maybe we all need losses once in a while too.