Architecture and Footings

Well, I guess I won't try the transliteration feature again. Especially in Hindi. It's bad enough that I know I don't know what I'm talking about, but that was brutal. Is English still an official language in New Dehli? I hope so...

A long time ago, I worked for a builder in the area, and we did a lot of new commercial construction. I didn't have a whole lot of interest in it at the time, except that I wanted the ability to somehow not be taken by a contractor later in life. Turns out I'm now one of those people who's "out to get me." Neither here nor there...

It seems like every commercial job we had featured the same architect. We'll call him Doug. I think Doug was actually his goddamned name, and I hope someday he has the opportunity to read this. He probably remembers me. Anyway, the beginning of each new job was a sort of Anti-Christmas. We never knew when those rolled up plans came out of the tube exactly what was going to be in there, but it became apparent to me and anyone else with any common sense that it certainly wasn't going to be good.

We're all sitting around on the lumber pile having lunch, baking in the June sun, I'd ask Richard, "Hey, man, you get coal in your stocking again from Doug?"

"My sock has a hole in it," Richard would deadpan. I called Richard Diablo, because he worked like the devil. Hell, he probably still does. The man dug out the crawl space of his house with a pick axe, shovel and wheelbarrow to give himself a full basement...

"How about you, Darrel? Anything good in there for you?" I would ask the man I called 'mumbles.' I'm not sure I ever understood a sentence that man ever uttered. I told myself that Darrel had replied that maybe Friday was a good day to eat fish. I never learned very much from Darrel. I think he knew what he was doing, but I never really figured out if I was right about that.

"What about you, Jeff?" I'd finally ask the new kid on the job.

"Just a bunch of coal, but it smells a lot like Doug's piss."

The short lesson here is that if one is to call oneself an Architect, one should probably have some confidence that the structure is feasible.

Here's the definition: 1. One who designs and supervises the construction of buildings or other large structures. 2. A planner or deviser.

Okay. So from my experience, Doug was not number one. We'll get into that later. I guess he would be operating in the dream world of definition two, of which no qualification or requirements must be met for the fantasy to be upheld.

Hell, I'm an architect, by definition two! I've designed a bridge to Mars, and I just don't understand why Nasa won't build it. I'd probably make a lot of money on the goddamned thing, and I could put a lot of people to work! Space race, my ass. We win it! Why won't they build my interplanetary bridge?!?

I guess I've made my point. It's been my experience that the only good architects are those with actual building experience. I'm sure there are exceptions, and if anyone knows who they are, I'd be fascinated to know them...

The other builder for whom I'd previously worked for viewed Architects with the same disdain he held for government. He was a spec builder, and a damned good one. He's still building spec homes and selling them. Right now. In this economy. So that should tell you something. He knows what he's doing, and he does it. There's a lot to be said for that. We never had architects, and we had as little government as possible. His operation was quite the dictatorship, but it worked...

With architects, we have this problem that there is some "vision" in their mind that can't be modified or altered. 'Why, it looks perfect here on the blueprint. Why can't those idiot contractors get this thing done?' I hear murmurings from a thousand cubicles over the tapping of the Autocad. Meanwhile, said Architect surely has lunch delivered, to ensure he doesn't have to leave the office.

So, back to that hot summer. For the first few days showing up on these new sites, we'd ask the General Contractor, "So, have you heard from Doug about those problems with the plans?"

"Not yet."

Insert running two or three month long running joke here. Meanwhile, someone has to build something...So a lot of the time, the architects of structures are the lowest paid and most knowing on the site--the laborers, carpenters, plumbers, and electricians who actually have to make things happen. Maybe it's the impatience of waiting for the answer that would set the project back far further than the implementation of any necessary changes...

So we're a couple of months along into the building of this eye clinic, and Doug saunters onto the job site. His office is in the same town. Of 10,000 people. On Main Street. Which is also the highway. So, old Doug has been insanely busy with other projects he felt a pressing need to ruin, or he's been hiding from this one, or whatever...but here's Doug. And he locks up the brakes of his SUV like the place is on fire, and he shares some words with the GC, and they're pointing at Richard and me, as we're working on one of the parapet towers. We had to modify the parapets to make them functional. Doug obviously immediately recognized we didn't share his vision.

And it was damned hot that day. Impatience and heat are a historically bad combination. Many more murders occur in the summer heat than in winter. This is no coincidence. And I'll tell you what, the heat coming off Doug's rolled copper roof was something special--but Richard and I are up there in it--because someone had to do it.

Doug walks up to the base of the cherry-picker after his discussion with the GC, and finally says, "Excuse me? Can you fellows tell me why these parapets look terrible?"

I had the answer, but I did not have the authority, or the patience. I just looked at Richard, because we both knew this day was coming. It really was only a function of time and offense. Richard proceeded to explain very politely, "Well, Doug, it's good to see you..." and he continued to try to explain why exactly we'd done what we'd done, and how this really was the best way to try and go about the serious business of staying on schedule, and so forth...and Doug was not about to be convinced.

"I just don't understand," said Doug, "This isn't at all like it's drawn up in the plans!"

Snapping point. "Doug, you don't know me, but it's time we met. I'm Slade. Grab the plans. I'm bringing the bucket down, and you can show us exactly how we can avoid this unfortunate situation in the future."

By this time the GC is laughing--he's tried diplomacy too--and Richard says, "Gee, Slade. You think he's going to make us cut that parapet down?"

"Hell, no. He can't. We've been over this twenty times. So's the GC. We've been trying to get Doug's ass to come ten blocks all summer. It's hot. I just want to see what he says about it."

So Doug goes back and sifts through the miscellaneous tubes of shit he carries around with him, and finally finds the one most relevant to this particular building struggle of his creation. And naturally, Richard and I have to direct this fool through his own set of drawings to find the relevant elevations, details and specs pertinent to the task in question. And Doug brought his own tape measure, too. We were bickering over nine inches here, if I recall, and it was obvious to him that Richard, me, and the GC were all cursed with similarly faulty equipment. He was right about that in one regard.

And we're in the bucket, Doug, Richard, and myself for quite a little while. Long enough for a lot of measuring. Long enough for many stupid and previously resolved issues with which Doug could have easily acquainted himself had he cared a bit. And finally after about fifteen minutes of Doug climbing around on this goddamned thing, it was long enough for Doug to work up a sweat. "This can't be. I'll have to fix this drawing."

So we get out of the bucket, and Doug is off to fix the vision to match the reality. Some people just don't get it.