Everybody Is an Expert Except for Me
I used to think I knew a few things. Always managed to earn a good living for my family. Sometimes I even finish a crossword puzzle, providing it isn’t too hard.
Along the way, a man has to get accustomed to accepting constructive criticism--from fellow workers, superiors and customers. Keeps you from getting too self-satisfied.
But certain things have been happening lately that make me wonder if perhaps I shouldn’t have tried a career other than business.
Not long ago, I was engaged in the many transactions that accompany buying and moving into a new house. And I found out that there are an awful lot of experts around these days. They charge top dollar, which is to be expected. But they get a little extra fringe benefit too: the chance to lord it over me, tell me things I’ve never known before.
Now, I’m quite willing to concede that my lawyer is an expert. He studied long enough to be one. So let’s bypass him.
Blue-Collar Experts
My real estate agent knows her job too. But when she says, “Let’s check the CC&Rs;,” I have to ask her what she means. She looks at me strangely and says, “covenants, conditions and restrictions” as if any idiot should have known that.
But then come the blue-collar experts and they really rub it in.
The movers are the first experts I have to contend with.
“What size truck will we need?” he asks over the phone, as if I ought to able to the calculate cubic volume of my possessions.
On moving day, they tell me that people who move a lot don’t fool around with such-and-such type of bed frame because it’s so hard to take apart.
“OK,” I say humbly. “Next time we buy a bedroom set, we’ll make sure it’s easy to take apart. After all, looks are secondary.”
At our new house, the foreman says, “Have you decided where you’re going to put the extra mattress?”
“In the garage, I guess. That’s where we kept it at all our other houses,” I said. “Why?”
He scratched his head. “Well . . . I suppose it isn’t any of my business, but we go through this everyday. You store a mattress flat, and it sags. If it was my mattress, I’d rest it on its side.”
Stupid of me, of course. “All right,” I said, “you’re the doctor.”
My dull-wittedness carried over to the moment of truth, when he presented me with my bill. I noted the quitting time listed. “But it isn’t 4 o’clock yet,” I protested. “In fact, it’s only 3:30.”
“But we aren’t back at the warehouse yet, are we?” he said, winking indulgently.
Proper Door Hanging
My next ordeal was with the carpentry expert, a man with all the earmarks of a laconic New England Yankee. Until he opened his mouth.
“I need weather stripping on this door,” I said.
“Well, sir,” he said, scratching his head. (Have you noticed how often these experts scratch their heads?) “I don’t believe in weather stripping. No, sir. If a door is hung properly, there’s no need for weather stripping. Why, one time when I. . . .”
At $30 an hour, who needs anecdotes? “OK,” I interrupted, “never mind the weather stripping. Just make the door as airtight as you can.”
“Well, that’s just what we’ll do then,” he said cautiously. “Of course, we might find a striker plate problem and maybe a little warping. But we’ll take it off and then we’ll see. OK?”
“OK,” I said, trying to fade away so he could work in peace.
“Better stick around and see what’s wrong when I get it off,” he said, plucking at my sleeve.
So I was coerced into becoming an admiring audience of one as yet another expert went into his mumbo-jumbo routine.
On his heels came the plumber, an expert if I’ve ever heard one. “What’s wrong with this furnace?” I asked. “It makes a lot of noise.”
“Let me tell you about these forced-air gas furnaces,” he said, leaning against the wall. “You get a furnace put in--a brand-new furnace--and you think you’re set for a while. Right?”
I nodded in agreement.
“But,” he said, pausing for effect, “it doesn’t always work out that way. Why, take for instance. . . .”
So I got a long lecture on furnaces and water heaters. If I ever decide to go into the plumbing and heating business, I’ll have a head start on becoming an expert myself.
Next we needed a gas lighter capped, so the gas company expert came out.
“Tell you something,” he said confidentially. “Lots of folks think there’s a gas leak just because they smell gas. But I go on calls every day, and half the time it’s just their imagination. Why, you never would believe it, but. . . .”
And for the next 10 minutes, I was regaled with story after story of his adventures in the wonderful world of natural gas. The only saving grace was that the gas company doesn’t charge for service calls.
Next came the exterminator, in answer to our SOS on mouse droppings. And there are no experts who are more so than these guys.
“Tell you what happens,” he said. “Ol’ Mister Mouse comes up, tracks his paws in this here pink powder and then licks ‘em clean. He gets thirsty, so he goes outside to find water. As soon as he drinks it, he’s a goner.”
“Suppose he finds water inside?” I asked in all innocence.
“Didn’t I tell you? He’s not supposed to. You’re going to have to check all the water leaks too.”
“Stupid of me,” I mumbled.
“I been in this business for 12 years,” he said, “working all over this area. I know every pest, and how to get rid of him. You just relax, and we’ll fix this up.”
Becoming Straight Man
But he wanted me around while he did the fixing. Did he need me? Perhaps as an audience. I’m getting to be a great straight man. “No kidding?” and “Really?” when spoken with the proper deference can get you a lot of extra information from these experts.
Then just about the time I was starting to regain my self-confidence, we had to call the pool maintenance man to help us get started on the right foot. Now, these fellows are really experts.
“Hmmm, this water looks a bit hard,” he says.
“What does that mean?” I ask nervously, expecting the worst.
He doesn’t disappoint me. “We may have to drain,” he said. It was in the same tone of voice my doctor might have used for “We may have to operate.”
“Oh, well, if we do, we do,” I said casually. “What’s little extra water on my bill?”
“But that’s only the half of it,” he said. “If it turns out you have scaling, you may need an acid bath.”
Sounded more like a gangland torture, but I went along with it. After all, he’s the expert.
No sooner did he leave, than in walked another expert we had to summon to our aid. The specialist on automatic garage door openers.
“Hmmm,” he said, “you sure got an unusual one here.” He looked over our contraption, all the while shaking his head. To his credit, he never once scratched his head.
“It figures,” I said wearily, reaching for my checkbook.
“Now, if it was a modern kind,” he said apologetically, “it could take a portable triggering unit. That way, one unit works in either car. Can’t do it in this one, it being a discontinued model.”
Then I made the mistake of saying, casually, “I never knew there was so much to learn about garage door openers.”
“Well,” he said, brightening considerably, “I’ve been installing them for more’n 12 years, and you’d be amazed at some of the things I’ve seen. . . .”
Even the bottled water man has a store of bottled water folklore that would amaze you. The postman can entertain you with anecdotes of how he managed to jam a Sears catalogue into a slot only 4 inches wide.
Nod and Take Notes
The electrician will shake his head and commiserate with you on the inadequate wiring in your home, which naturally was built before the advent of inexpensive air conditioners. The home cleaning service will show you why you’ve been using the wrong floor cleaner, the wrong wax, the wrong detergent all these years.
The simplest thing to do is just nod your head and take notes. This way, you’ll learn how to make a career out of home upkeep.
Anyone know of a good trade school that takes broken-down businessmen and turns them into experts? What kind of experts? I don’t much care. Just some simple little job where I can have the floor and tell someone else something he or she didn’t know before.
The words, “You don’t say!” would be music to my ears.
READER IDEAS FOR SPEAKING OUT
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