I didn't even know there was such a thing that alerted you.For some reason now and again I stop getting alerts when somebody posts on your thread here Paul
I agree about soap. As a mechanic we washed our hands in gasoline, or as you Brits call it, Petrol. Then of course you had to use real soap to get the gas smell off which you never did.
But us tough "Men" had tough hands. Not Girly Sissy, Mary, hands that people get from tapping on silly computer keys or their Very heavy I Phone 63 or lap top.
Most (but not all) people today, especially men are so soft. Very few people do anything that I normally would call "work". I realize people get paid to sit at a desk and maybe push a paper around or E Mail a client, but I am glad I always had physical jobs that kept me in shape. (and dirty) ;Woot
So far, and I am 72 years old I have "almost" never let anyone work on my house, cars or boat. I did break my rule last week and let a Jiboni, I mean, mechanic, install a starter in my boat, which didn't work because he figured all he had to do was install the thing and magically it would tighten up it's own wires like a smart TV.
Unfortunately I just can't get this old body under those engines.
I know I put this on here a few years ago but once about 15 years ago I was working on some building and was the foreman and working around the clock. Our bluestone porch and stairs collapsed and my wife had to have it fixed NOW.
She made me hire these Jibones to re build the thing and install a new sidewalk around the house and we were on a corner.
The "craftsman" came with three tools. A stick with a string on it for a ruler. A shovel with a hole in it and a sledge hammer with the handle duct taped on.
They demolished the porch and I build a large plywood box. I wanted him to put the box in the porch up side down and pour concrete around, not in it. Here in NY it freezes and if you have any dirt, it gets wet and freezes and the stones break out and the thing collapses. I old him if he builds it like I said, it will last longer than the pyrimids.
I came home to find my box in the porch filled with dirt.
I made him shovel out the dirt. He said, you need some dirt. I said you need to listen to me or I am going to fill you with dirt.
The steps on my porch were brick. I came home and he made the steps out of cinder blocks with the holes facing up.
I went nuts. He said that is how we do it in Tijuana. I said, look around, does this look like Tijuana.
The next day I came home and he built the steps out of bricks. The first step was about 4", the next one was like 14" and the last one was maybe 9".
AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHhhhhaaaaaaaaaa
I made him break that up and told him this is not the Aztec pyramids, this is my house and my legs are the same length just as I want my steps to be.
OK, He is done. I came home from work and look at it and it isn't to bad. I go to open my front door and the porch is higher than my door so I can't get in.
He says, "I will grind down the top of the concrete porch".
I said, you have a shovel with a hole in it, a stick with a piece of string on it and a sledge hammer that is more duct tape than hammer and you are going to grind down the cement?
I said take your three "tools" and get out of here.
He said, "I don't think you want to pay me".
I said AY you, I'm going to KILL you.
I threw them out and had to hire a kid to help me destroy the entire porch and steps and I re did it all myself like I should have done in the first place.
You can hardly see the porch, but it is at the front door.
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