Serving Broadmoor, Skyway, Country Club, Cheyenne Canon and Ivywild
OBSERVATIONS By Henry Walter
Where's that danged stepladder?
I needed more office space so I'm taking over the office next door. No big deal... just knock a couple holes through the wall so's I could stay in touch. Cheap and quick. So I called The Polak, the handyman with the reddest truck west of Newt Gingrich's blush.
Now Cedric has done other work for us, so I knew this was going to be a snap. "Look," I instructed, "just whack out a hole here and one there and make me a walk-space at this work counter."
Being a gentleman, The Polak didn't snigger at my naivet�. No sir, with a flare borne of suffering many who believe remodeling is best accomplished with a rusty hammer, a busted knife blade and some duct tape, he whipped out his tape measure and surveyed my "simple" request. (This guy is a PRO, this Polak. With one hand, he made that tape measure blade whang out against the wall and it stuck there, trembling at rigid attention. Boy, I wish I could do that!)
"You want the door where?" he asked patiently. "Right there," I pointed. "Can't do that. The building will fall down."
Well, that problem solved, we moved to the next door. Not quite as confidently, I sort of kicked at the wall. "How 'bout around here somewhere?"
"Okay, but you won't like it." "WHY?" I stupidly asked. "Put 'er there and you'll be walking through your other bathroom." That problem solved, we moved to the counter I wanted rebuilt to my specs.
"I'd like a walk-space through here so that when I see someone coming, I can greet them at the door. This is a lonely job."
"We can do that but you won't have any electricity for your computer. 'Course, maybe you don't need it. I read your last observations column."
"Oh, I said, not understanding what he meant - about my column. "Well, maybe we could cut it a little more to the left."
"We could, but we'll have to cut the legs off your chair. That part holds up the counter top."
"I see." I nodded wisely, beginning to get an inkling....
"No, you don't" The Polak reassured me. "You want access between offices. You want a work area that's efficient. And you want it done in such a way that it doesn't resemble a political convention. Have I got that right?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Why don't you go practice your writing and I'll draw up a plan and both of us will sleep tonight?"
My office is going to be the envy of the most dedicated bureaucrat. I can hear the pounding and whirring saws and I just know I'm going to be snug and wonderfully out of the way of the people who do the real work here. I hired a professional and I'm assured the building will remain erect. Thing is, though, my door will only open onto the alley. Otherwise, I have to climb a ladder and crawl through the ceiling to supervise the production of the paper next week. I suspect the rest of the Edition staff had something to do with that. I noticed a lot of winking going on during the construction phase.
Being chastened to a fine degree of abashment, I took my clipped id,
neutered ego and severely lacerated super ego and slank back to my
old office in the dark room. Now, I ain't pouting, understand, but
geez, at my advanced age, I'll never remember where I put that ladder.
