From “The Human Condition: A User’s Manual,” by Arnold Kunst
31 January
I remember like it was yesterday working for a painting
contractor when I was in college who submitted a bid for painting the exterior
of an entire condomenium complex. The complex was called Whispering Pines and
they were over the moon when they found out they had won this job. The company
was led by three brothers who had, between them, no less than 15 kids - lots of
mouths to feed. Bob - he was the one who had taken and passed the contractor's
exam and so, nominally, was the boss - told me that they liked to nail down a
super- big contract every year if they could, one that would stretch out for
six months like this one, and then they could build the rest of the year around
that one contract.
There was one little problem,
though, one that should rightly give anyone cause for concern: they learned
eventually thst their winning bid was lower - considerably lower- than the next
lowest bid. In fact, $40,000 lower. When they examined their bid they found the
problem: John, the estimator, somehow had forgotten to include a figure for the
windows. The good news was, they had the gigantic job they were going to build
an entire year around, just like they wanted. The bad news was, they went into
this six-month commitment at a considerable disadvantage: they were starting
out in a $40,000 hole, and nothing they could possibly do would ever dig
themselves out of it.
The one who really stood out in
this whole story was Bud, the third brother - the best painter I ever met in
all those high school and college summers - who was slated to be the job
foreman. He had to get up every day, drag himself off to a job he KNEW was
losing $40,000, and that, no matter what he did - and he was a wizard not only
with a spray gun but also as a leader of men - the thing was a dog. I, like all
the other 16 guys on that crew, was happy enough to be off to a job that would
last my entire summer and leave my bank account sufficiently swollen that I'd
be able to limp my way through to the following summer when these three
brothers would work their magic once again.
For me Whispering Pines was
nothing more than a cash cow. It was something very different for Bud, the one
who - largely because of how he carried himself during those six gruelling months
- became my lifetime hero that summer. He taught me a valuable lesson: maturity
isn't always pretty, and it largely happens out of sight.