Mr. Fix-It – Two

This is an update to the story “Mr. Fix-It” that I wrote nearly a year ago. In it I described how my desire to solve all problems often is my undoing.

Recently at our 50^th high school reunion another classmate, Steve Maples, who was familiar with my earlier story and who knew all participants in that great debate (of which I was the biggest loser) had a little fun at my expense.

In my early days I had a desire to become a lawyer when I grew up but I suspect I lost interest in that career after unsuccessfully arguing my first case of which the prize for losing was a good ole fashion playground whipping in front of much of the student body.

Anyway Steve who went on to become a criminal defense lawyer had a lot of fun razzing me about who may or may not be at the class reunion and even though it had been more than 53 years since I lost that fight, Russell could likely do it again if he showed up. Steve finally acknowledged that he had talked with Russell and that I didn’t have to worry because Russell would not be attending. Thank God I didn’t have to reargue that case. If only Steve had argued my earlier case maybe there would have been a better outcome for me. I can’t say what would have happened to Steve if he lost that original argument. Maybe I would have been writing my earlier story about him?

Now that we have had a little fun with the story there has been one very good thing that I can report since I wrote it.

I was having some work done on my house and the contractor had pretty well tried my patience as much as I could take. He promised to complete it in five days but after dealing with several of his well meaning but incompetent sub-contractors the job was already in its third month.

One small task was to replace a linen closet door in the bathroom we were remodeling. It was obvious the sub-contractor didn’t have the expertise to replace the door without really botching it. I had seen several of his suggested options. After complaining to the person I had contracted with, I was assured that they would get a cabinet maker to install a new door.

The next day I receive a telephone call and the voice on the other end of the line said, “Mr. Brady, my name is Chuck and I need to come out and take measurements to replace a cabinet door.”

I said ok and we settled on a day and time. Afterwards the voice asked me, “Did you grow up in Prichard?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Did you live in Alabama Village?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Did you go to Clark school?”

“Yes.”

Then he said, “I think I know you.”

I responded, “I don’t remember someone named Chuck from school.”

He said, “I was called Charles back then. Charles Hatchett.”

My response was quick and clear, “Oh yeah, I remember you Charles. I took a whipping for you one time.”

He said, “I very well remember that. You are not going to punch me in the nose when I come over are you?”

“No I am not. We were too good of friends and I am looking forward to seeing you.”

To make this story a little shorter, we really had a wonderful time reminiscing about our youthful days and we have renewed a far too long estranged friendship. I have since met Charles’ beautiful wife Rose and had the pleasure of their company at our high school reunion.

When I think about our frustrating experience dealing with a poor performing remodeler, I am reminded that without some of the issues we had, I may have lived the rest of my life without the fellowship of an old friend.

Wayne Brady 4/25/2014