Woman/Man Thing

I’ve entered a man’s world of carpenters and builders. It isn’t my mode of operation to visit lumber companies, but while our garage is under construction I have become the go-fer. I’ve learned the lingo, and understand what a wedge anchor bolt looks like and the price of concrete and red iron. I’ve searched them out and did my homework, got the best price, best job and best material for the money.

The contractor and I keep in touch through e-mail. He answers my questions and I follow through immediately. Whether the garage belongs to me or not, I’m making it happen, and Al has turned it over to me to get it done.

When I showed our son-in-law and daughter the garage and said, “This is the man door.”

My daughter said, “What’s that?”

My son-in-law said, “It’s the walk-through door. That’s what it’s called.”

I laughed and said, “I don’t know why it’s called a man door. It should be called a woman door. I’m the one who will walk through the door this winter.”

So what’s the big deal about men and women? When the men are waiting on materials to work, they don’t care who picks up the wedge anchors or washers. They need them, and they need them now. I show up with a bag of bolts. I’ve made sure they’re the right ones, and they thank me.

It’s better to send me to the store than My Sweet Al. I go and get back, no foolin’ around. I understand time is money. If the guys don’t have what they need, they can’t work.  I’m pushing to get this garage built and keeping everyone on task.

If I send Al, he moves by a different clock. Before he goes, he might stop and crank up the lawn mower, drive it around the property, put gas in the old work truck and take the gas cans to town to fill up. In town, he might stop and get a grape slush at Happy Hour or run by and see our daughters. He gets distracted.

So, I make sure I go to the lumber company. I’ve found a whole group of people, mostly men, who are reading my column. One of the employees yelled across four aisles of paint and nails, his voice echoed throughout the store. “I love your articles. I read everyone one of them.”

I drew closer, and over one aisle, I said, “Did you know I quoted you?”

“I saw, clipped it out and saved the article. Poor Al. He sure takes a beaten.”

“Are you kidding me, he loves it. I keep reminding him I’m the best thing that ever happened to him.”

I went to the other lumber company for more things. A shopper in the store said, “I read your articles. Bop Sweet Al on the head again. You’ve got to keep him in line.”

I said, “It’s hard for Al to stay in line. But, mostly, he keeps me in line. We need each other. It seems to work that way. The lines have become blurred.”

Then he said, “You should be teaching in church again. I’ve heard you teach. You’re an excellent teacher. They need you.”

“It’s that man/woman thing.” I said to him, “Let me ask you. You love the Lord and know God’s ways. If you are in church on Sunday and need a good word, and a woman has a word from God, does it matter to you who God uses to bring it to you?”

“No. Not, at all.”

“You’re a wise man. And whose door is it, anyway? Is it a man door, a woman door, or is it a God door? I’ve learned one thing in building a garage and walking through a man door. If the workers are waiting for material, they don’t care who brings it to them. If they refuse it because it comes from my hands, whoa and woe!

Final Brushstroke!  My Sweet Al will be thrilled this winter because I pushed through with the garage and kept the workers on task with the material they needed to finish the job and a paycheck at the end of it.

There will be room for his truck in the nice warm garage. Who cares if it’s a man or woman door when the cold motor in his diesel truck starts up?  There will be no ice on the windshield and he’ll be able to see.  My car will be snuggled up next to his truck and I’ll be snuggled up to My Sweet Al.  I would say, he’s a very wise man.