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| Building site ettequette | |
| Written by arablethecrocket | ||||||||||||||||
| 13 May 2007 | ||||||||||||||||
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I have been privelidged all my life to meet characters from all walks of life by far the best were in the building trade. I hope you like them. Alan Building site Etiquette By Alan Crook I have been very fortunate in all my working career. Wallowing in the building trade has led me into some long friendships with a multitude of characters the most of whom leave an indelible and largely pleasant mark on my memory. One character was a chap called Ron who was in his early sixties and was huge not just in size but in his persona. He had seen it all, read the book and worn the T-shirt as they say. Winter and summer alike he wore the same style, white vest, black trousers held up with belt and braces, site boots and safety hat. He wasn't just the site Forman, as far as the rest of us mere mortals were concerned the only rank higher than his was the Queen. He had one of those voices that wasn't loud but no matter were you were on site if he called for you, you heard him. He ruled with a rod of iron and was feared and respected by all. All, that is, bar his granddaughter. When she dropped in on her way home from school she would melt him to the point that if we needed a special favour we would wait until she had been and it was ours. His weakness was most definitely the lunch time. Not that he ate a great deal infact he ate very little. It was just that try as hard as he did he could not stay awake. He would always keep his hard hat on because being bald we would draw rude comments on his head if he didn't. Usually he would take a bite from his sandwich then more or less lock it in his lunch box; he would take a sip from his pint mug of tea then take his false teeth out and put them in the mug. With all confidence secure he would feel safe to nod off. One twit couldn't resist the chance for a lark so he super glued the teeth together. After the break time Ron realized that he was running late and just grabbed the teeth and rammed them in. They still worked well enough because the glue didn't act; it did, however, react with the tea and turned his teeth blue. It was very difficult keeping a straight face whilst looking at a man with blue teeth. Despite his toughness and size his soft spot was definitely for children, his granddaughter in particular. I went into his office on the day that it was announced that a little girl called Sarah Payne had been found murdered. Ron was openly crying the poor child was about the same age as his granddaughter. There was no larking about that afternoon on site, it actually distressed us all, and not just for the child but to see the extent that Ron cared for a child he had never met. The place that I seem to meet the majority of builders is the builder's merchant, and this usually first thing in the morning on the way to a site. I remember a particular morning when it was a big queue day. One poor soul decided to unload his woes whilst he waited. He stood just less than six foot tall and he told a whole group of us in the queue that his wife said he was too fat and ugly and that he had to go on a diet. He went on to explain that he was on lettuce this and carrot that and oh the woe that flowed once the flood gates opened! I could see that this was likely to be a depressing start so there had to be some humour in it somewhere. I said "Never mind, look on the bright side!" "What bright side?" He asked (except his language was a touch more colourful). I said "At least when you've lost all that fat you'll still be ugly!" It worked, the black cloud lifted. The Men around at least wore broad grins if they didn't bark out laughing. When normality resumed the banter flowed once more and the giant stood there with a beam on his face and just said "True!" There was one chap called Percy who could only be described as being a pain in the nether regions. If he'd have worn a dress he would have had some excuse. As it was he would have made someone a wonderful mother. He automatically elected himself as safety inspector on every site that he went on. He was an electrician of forty years experience and on site he was employed as just that, an electrician; but he took that to mean grandma. He made a point of emphasizing his forty years as he grilled each man on site about safety. He would usually start with the forty years and then the fact that he had never had an "Electrical" shock. Not an electric shock mind but an electrical shock. He would go on to ask about your safety certificates and whether you've got the best gear on. The list was endless. The worst thing was that you couldn't help but like him. He was a lonely soul and this was the only time he felt of any importance. If it had electric in the name he could fix it and very quickly at that. He was truly a master craftsman, but a more insecure chap didn't exist. He was a bachelor, living on his own in the flat in which he was born. He spent the major part of his adult life being henpecked by his mother and then caring for her as she struggled through a long illness. He was a short scraggy orang utang of a man, covered in red hair; it crept from under his cuffs, and from his collar. He had a beard but not for vanity, he just couldn't keep up with the shaving. His hair fought a constant battle with his deerstalker hat. In short he was red and hairy. I had known Percy for about ten years when he started to change. Shortly after his mother died he started to tell silly, ridiculous even schoolboy style jokes. I even heard him laughing and by enlarge he stopped his pestering. The complete transformation occurred after one weekend. He appeared on site with a smile six foot wide. He had got married at the age of sixty to his childhood sweetheart. Up to then they had been kept apart by his domineering mother, and the fact his girl was married. Her husband who was a terrible man drank, gambled, and womanized himself to an early grave. Within a week of his funeral, Percy and Jenny were hitched. He was a love struck teenager and talked constantly about his wife, gushing all manner of her virtues. Were once he queried safety now he was just embarrassing with all his crooning. The next time I met him was after a long gap and then it was only by chance after I struggled to recognize him. Again it was in a queue at the builder's merchant. Clearly no body else recognized this strange chap with a woolly hat and thick coat with the collar turned up. There was something familiar about his eyes. By the time I clocked him the queue had stretched to about seven men. I said "Percy!" He was horrified "Shush Alan!" he said. It was too late, all ears were tuned, all eyes fixed with recognition on the hairless specimen in the midst of the queue. "I had a bang!" he said. This from Old Mother Hubbard the super safety czar of all building sites. "It's blown all my hair off!" By this time the sympathy was well and truly flowing the men were all laughing but when Percy pointed to his nether regions and said "I even lost my hair down there! Jenny thinks she's married a schoolboy." There wasn't a dry eye in the place. Even Percy saw the funny side and stopped hiding. The next time I met him was at his retirement party. I met his wife first. She was a very pleasant woman with a cheeky smile and the disposition of a woman who had been released from a terrible trap. Percy was regaining his hair but as yet it was just pink fuzz. I would like to think that Percy and Jenny made up for their earlier lives by enjoying each other for the rest of their days. Despite its hard earnt macho image, the building trade is not without its alternative sexually inclined. Two of the most outlandish characters that I knew were very gay indeed. To make things even more complicated they were both called Jeremy. To save our own sanity on site, however, one was called Jeremy the other we called apprentice Jeremy. Not that apprentice Jeremy was an innocent school leaver, he was infact twenty eight but because he was apprenticed to Jeremy the name stuck. Not that he was a delicate blossom either both he and Jeremy were just under six foot seven tall and the both weighed in at about twenty stone. They both took delight in doing the most ridiculous things, which was why they to chose a Reliant Robin van as their mode of transport. They would roll up on site in this very battered Reliant Robin, and then have to perform the same ritual every time when it came to getting out. With the car more or less touching the ground they would open the door simultaneously, the swing their legs out and the both stand up at the same time. If they forgot themselves and only one man got out of the car it would roll on to its side. Apprentice Jeremy wore the most ridiculous outfits on site. He just loved the attention that he got from his way out antics. One day he turned up with angel wings on and a tutu over his pink overalls. Jeremy was much more sedate. He wore the same thing every day. That means fluorescent green shorts bright orange “t” shirt, site boots and a tool belt the size of a small industrial estate. The really remarkable thing is that Jeremy was the boss man, and the last project that I saw him on he was handling a budget of four million pounds. In truth they both were exceptional workers and very skilled craftsmen, but so outlandish that you either loved working with them or you just didn’t turn up. I couldn’t resist them, and they knew it. I would get phone calls from all over the world from them as they were working on yet another expensive project. Usually when they wanted a cabinet maker I was privileged to be their first choice. The last time I saw them was after a particularly long shift in the middle of London. They had barged their way into a queue of traffic in their battered little car. A motorist behind put two and two together and saw the reliant as being the property of some wimp with spectacles. He gave the so much severe grief on the horn that in the end both Jeremy and apprentice Jeremy rose from the car. The poor chap didn’t stand a chance. I was directly behind him and there were cars on the side of him. The builders grabbed the front of the car, and lifted it to waist height. They then turned it so that its back was pointing over the curb and then they pushed it off the road. A wise man stays in his car when something like that happens, but this man chose to argue. When he alighted from his car he stood about five foot tall but he was full of fire. He thumped both men and they acted like children and ran back to their Reliant as if they were frightened. Remarkably the chaps car was undamaged, and in some small way his ego was restored. The next day they actually waited for him to pass again and sure enough he did, and sure enough it was in a traffic jam. They again picked his car up and pushed into the yard. When he got out of the car this time the chap was met by two blokes with three great big cups of tea. It was quite a sight two giants with a bloke half their size drinking tea whilst sitting on milk crates. There are hundreds of blokes like these in the trade and now that I am retired these are the characters that warm my life.
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