Is That Your Best Work?

I held the nail, an 8d, in my left hand, tapped on the head a few times with a very old hammer to set it in place and then began to drive that nail through the plywood into a floor joist just below.  No easy feat for an up and coming 10 year old framer.  I’m sure it was a knot in the wood, but that nail bent under my onslaught in 3 different directions.  It was NOT going to go in without a fight.  I lost.  It was just easier to finish bending it over and wail away until the nail was beneath the surface of the wood.  If I were to guess a full 2/3 of the nail was exposed and bent over.  It wasn’t holding anything.

 

Those of you who are a fan of this blog and have read it from the beginning recognize that each one of my brothers have referenced our father and his example to us.  You might remember the article my older brother David wrote about building Dad’s dream house.  Well, this nail was supposed to be driven into a piece of flooring on the second level of that home.  More precisely in my parents’ bedroom on the west side of the house, 3^rd piece of plywood from the south west corner of the second floor.  Believe it or not, that location is not an exaggeration.  I know this because of the struggle I had with that nail, and another of the life lessons my father taught me.

 

“Are you going to just leave it like that?” was all he said to me.  I didn’t know he was standing behind me the whole time.  And truth be told I wasn’t happy about it.  You see, my brother David had it right, I didn’t want to be building “Dad’s” house at all.  My friends were all out on their bikes getting into all sorts of trouble and I wasn’t there to “save” them.

 

“It wouldn’t go in right” was my lame response.

 

“It wouldn’t?  Well it’s going too.  I want you to straighten that nail and drive it in properly.”  Now keep in mind that I could NOT pull the nail completely out to replace it with a new one.  No, I had to straighten it in place.  The tip of the nail had to stay in place while I struggled to get the nail un-bent and straight enough to make another attempt at driving it in properly.  I didn’t know the good swear words yet, but I was doing my best to make up a few new ones.  A tweak here with the claw hammer, a nudge there, a few grunts and several hundred angry thoughts and the nail was somewhat straight. 

 

Fast forward 38 years.  My two sons and I were finishing their bedrooms in the basement.  The older of the two, who was just 14, was driving some screws into the drywall when one screw hit something behind the board and went off on a bad angle. 

 

“Are you going to just leave it like that?”  I said standing behind him.  He didn’t know I was there.  And you guessed it, his response was the exact same one I gave.  “It wouldn’t go in right.”

 

I lifted the hammer, and began to gently tap the head of the nail.  It didn’t bend, much.  Slowly it began to creep deeper into the wood.  My courage began to grow as I hit the nail harder and harder.  All it needed was one final blow.  I lifted the hammer higher than usual…Dad walked away with a little, albeit smug grin on his face as he said, “Better”.

 

My son, grumbling under his breath, removed the screw, moved it slightly and drove it right home.

 

“Better”, I said.

___________________________________________________

Roger D. Laws is a Commercial Construction Superintendent.  He has been a builder for the past 30 years.   His completed projects include many homes and basements, a Walgreens, a dentist office, a rehabilitation center, a community living center and many others.  He is an avid motorcyclist; touring most of the western half of the United States.  Father of 6 children and 2 sons-in-law.  Roger has a B.S. in Technology Management from Utah Valley University.

Life Is An Injection Molding Machine

Most manufacturing processes take somewhat useless raw materials and turn them into something much more valuable.  This is generally done by reshaping the raw material using a variety of different external forces.  Simple examples might include extreme temperatures or pressures (or both), imparting very high stresses and strains on the material.

 

Injection molding is the process by which small pellets of plastic are quickly shaped into an endless variety of products.  The cold plastic pellets are fed into a heated barrel, where a precision screw advances the material down the barrel.  The screw and barrel work together to melt the material in preparation of forcing the material through a very small hole and into a mold.  The cavity of the mold will determine the final shape of the product.  The product quickly cools, and is removed from the mold, and the process is repeated.  Most of the small common plastic parts you encounter each day are likely injection molded.

 

 

Call me strange, but I have often rehearsed what a conversation might sound like between myself and these little pellets of plastic.  I am quite convinced that it would be full of complaints and confusion coming from the plastic pellets. 

• "Why are you doing this to us?" 
• "We are just fine the way we are." 
• "Don't you know how much this is going to hurt?" 
• "It's too hot!" 
• "The pressure is just too much for us to handle." 
• "The stress and strain is more than we can take."

And with each complaint, I know how I could respond.  After all, if they could just see what I see.

• "Trust me, I know what I am doing."
• "You can take it, I know you can."
• "It wouldn't make sense for me to put you through this if I didn't already know you can do it."
• "It might be hot and stressful, but it will be worth it."
• "If you could see the part you are going to make, you wouldn't be complaining this much."
• "If you could just understand how much worth you will soon have ..."

The entire scenario just seems so obvious from my perspective.  I am taking an insignificant handful of pellets, and shaping them into something wonderful.  The value of which completely justifies the conditions of the process.  In fact, it can't be done any other way.  Without the heat, without the pressure, without the stresses and strains, the end result simply can't be achieved.  The pellets will experience no change, and no progression in their respective purpose.  If I chose to listen to the pellets and relieve them of these extreme conditions, I would be doing them a disservice.

 

Life ... is no different I think.  How often do we, as pellets, find ourselves shaking our fists at the heavens?

• "Why are you going this to me?"
• "I was just fine before things changed."
• "Don't you know how much this hurts?"
• "It's too hot, too much pressure, too much stress, too much strain."
• "I can't take it any longer."
• or the ever popular, "If you loved me, you wouldn't allow this to happen."

And with each confused complaint, a loving Father in Heaven responds in a variety of ways.

• "Trust me, I know what I am doing."
• "You can take it, I know you can."
• "It will be worth it."
• "If you could see what you can become, you wouldn't be complaining this much."
• "If you could just understand your potential and worth ..."

 

The entire scenario must seem so obvious from His perspective.  He is molding us unto something wonderful, the value of which completely justifies the conditions of our existence.  In fact, it can't be done any other way.  Without the trials, without the disappointments, without the pains, the end results simply can't be achieved.  We would experience no change, and no progression. 

 

I believe He has a plan for us.  Faith requires us to trust His experience and perspective.  I get excited when I think about what He is shaping me to become. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

____________________________________________________________________________

R. Dru Laws is Senior Vice President of Seljan Company in Lake Mills Wisconsin, and the Vice President of ARM (Association of Rotational Molding).  He just concluded a valuable few years as a global contributing editor to RotoWorld Magazine. Dru has a B.S. in Mechanical Engineering from Brigham Young University, and an MSc in Polymer Engineering from the Queens University of Belfast.

 

 

That Old Grizzled Guy

It was 9:01 a.m., I know because I had just looked at my phone.  I was walking down one of the newly framed corridors of the latest project when I heard, “Good morning, Sir, I have a question”.  This interaction was nothing new and I didn’t really give it much thought until I was walking back to the construction trailer 10 minutes later.  When was the term “Sir” attached to me? 

 

Sir.  The military uses that title regularly and it denotes respect.  My father always taught me that the term "sir" was for men of age and experience.  But I’m not old.  Most of the time people say “sir” to “That Old Grizzled Guy” in the corner.  You know, the guy that’s been around so long that no one seems to know where he comes from.  He’s just always been there.  However, you know he has the answer.

 

So I started to thinking back on my career.  My first job was at 15 with Coach Jones.  He was the High School Basketball Coach that worked with the County Rec. Department looking over public parks and the swimming pool during the summers when school was in recess.  He was a pretty good egg.  He taught me a lot.  I called him "Sir".  Tragically he died early in a trucking accident.  He seemed like that “Old Grizzled Guy”, at the time.

 

After High School I became an apprentice electrician.  I was hired on as a gopher, shuffling wire here and there for the Journeyman.  Conduit in bundles of 10 gets very heavy after the first 3 flights of stairs.  The Superintendent of construction was most definitely one of those Old Grizzled Guys.  People said “Sir” to him all the time.  For heaven’s sake he must have been way over 50.  I know this because his side burns were very grey.  My boss even referred to him as “Sir”, and my boss was old too.  I don’t remember him being overly harsh.  I don’t remember him yelling, screaming, being demanding or anything some might expect from the “Bosses boss” but I was nervous in his presence.

 

I soon moved to painting, then framing, then a stint in roofing and on to drywall.  Each time I can think of one or more persons that I worked for or purchased materials from that fit the title of “That Old Grizzled Guy”.

 

Eventually, my brain had to take over because my body was braking down, and I went back to school to finish a degree that I’d started 25 years earlier.  I really had fun sitting with class mates young enough to be my son or daughter.  Even some of the teachers were younger than me.  In fact, one of the mandatory classes was a framing class.  The instructor was a young man that used to be my employee.  You can imagine what that might have been like, especially when he had taken my oldest daughter out on a date once.   Was I a “Sir” to him?  Some of my Professors were well established in their career, and had grey hair, or no hair.  They were “That Old Grizzled Guy” as well.  But what I began to notice about "that guy" was he was becoming a lot more fun.  He listens to the same music as I did.  Watches the same kind of movies and remembers who and what the Bandit is.  We might even talk about our glory days in Football. 

 

So as I sit here I have to ask myself, when did I become“Sir”?  I do have a piece of paper saying I finished school.  I do have 30+ years in the industry.  Most of my kids are out of the house.  I am grey on the sides.  And I am the Superintendent.  But now I realize, I’m probably that “Old Grizzled Guy”.  And I hope I have earned and deserve that great label.

___________________________________________________

Roger D. Laws, an old grizzled guy, is a Commercial Construction Superintendent.  He has been a builder for the past 30 years.   His completed projects include many homes and basements, a Walgreens, a dentist office, a rehabilitation center, a community living center and many others.  He is an avid motorcyclist; touring most of the western half of the United States.  Father of 6 children and 2 sons-in-law.  Roger has a B.S. in Technology Management from Utah Valley University.