“Might be tough getting around to it this week,” he said. “You know . . . now that we finally got decent golf weather.”
Fred, the contractor, was noncommittal.
“And then, of course, I go to Canada for my fishing trip next week.”
Maybe he’d get around to resurfacing my deck, and maybe he wouldn’t.
Fred wasn’t about to be pinned down by me. Or anyone.
“Maybe sometime after Father’s Day, closer to the end of the month,” he offered. “Might be able to get to it then.”
It was maddening.
“Of course,” he continued, “if you got somebody else ready to do the work, then go right ahead. Won’t hurt my feelings.”
This wasn’t some negotiating ploy on Fred’s part.
He was totally serious.
He’d be just fine if someone else did the work.
Fred works on Fred’s time. No one else’s.
Take it or leave it.
Why, you may wonder, do I put up with this?
Three reasons:
One, Fred does excellent work.
Two, he charges very reasonable prices for his excellent work.
And three, Do you know how hard it is to find a contractor who does good work at a good price and doesn’t totally screw you in the process?
Take your time, Fred.
Of course, I’d love it if you kept a regular schedule.
I’d really appreciate it if you’d commit to starting a project on a certain date and then kept that commitment.
And it would be great if I didn’t have to call you every other day to find out if you still had any intention of doing my project at all.
Yes, that would be very helpful.
But I get it: Fred Time.
Even though it frustrates the hell out of me.
See, guys as mechanically inept as I are at the mercy of the Freds of the world.
Contractors, mechanics, plumbers . . . whomever.
I have to accept that.
All the more reason I tolerate Fred.
Or, more accurately, I try to give Fred ample reason to tolerate me.
And, if you’re Fred, you couldn’t be in a better position, could you?
Think about it.
He works by referral only. All his clients come pre-screened.
No assholes allowed.
How did I make the cut?
I know a guy whose house Fred built.
He’s a Fred A-Lister.
When I asked him last summer to recommend a contractor for a variety of projects on my house, he immediately suggested Fred.
“He’s a little quirky,” my friend had said. “But he’s the best out there.”
A few weeks later, after Fred had played in a couple of golf tournaments and taken a vacation, he showed up at my house, unannounced.
I had no idea he was coming.
I went out to the backyard where he and one of his guys were re-pouring the footings for one of my decks.
“Who are you?” he asked me, visibly perturbed by the interruption.
“Um . . . I’m Dan,” I said. “This is my house.”
It was like I was apologizing.
“Oh, well . . . okay,” Fred replied, as though my being there was an irritant he’d simply have to accept.
I got the message and left him alone.
And I’m glad I did.
He did a fantastic job.
In addition to working with only a select number of pre-screened clients, Fred only does the projects he wants.
After I got to know him a little, I cautiously shared my list of other items with which I wanted his help.
“Nope,” he said. “I’m not doing any of that. But check this out . . .”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed me a picture of a huge, fifty-foot-long retaining wall he’d built for what had to be a five- or six-million-dollar house.
It was gorgeous.
“See that?” he asked me. “That’s the stuff I’m working on.”
In other words, Don’t waste my time with your piddly shit.
Okay. Sorry, Fred.
And while I have no idea what Fred made on the retaining wall, my friend’s house, or any other project, I assume he did well.
Besides all the golf and vacations, he drives a new-ish F-150.
You know, one of those trucks.
One that looks like a simple, working man’s truck, but costs twice as much as my corporate-dude Lexus.
Yes, I assume Fred does quite well.
So, to summarize:
Fred works only when he wants.
He works only with whom he wants.
He works only on what he wants.
And he gets paid well to do it.
Game, set, and match.
Me? I can’t claim any of those things.
I work for Tha Man.
I work when he wants.
With whom he wants.
On what he wants.
And get paid what he decides.
There’s nothing I do that is so valuable that I could work like Fred.
And that’s a little concerning.
Without some sort of differentiated offering, I’m just a commodity.
Well, you say, if you don’t like it, do something about it.
It’s all within your power.
Just reinvent yourself.
So say the self-help books.
And celebrities, like P. Diddy and Madonna.
The trouble is, I’m not sure you can just flip a switch and Poof! become a Fred.
That’s because Fred himself didn’t become a Fred overnight.
My guess is he’s spent decades mastering his craft, getting progressively better, gathering insights with each new project on what works and what doesn’t.
He’s figured out, over the course of years, which jobs play best to his core skills and allow his work to stand out.
And he’s learned, sometimes the hard way, that certain types of clients should be avoided, no matter what they’re willing to pay.
That’s how Fred became Fred.
So, what’s that mean for the rest of us?
The non-Freds?
I suppose the best any of us can do
Is to find a way to add value.
Whatever the hell that means.
Rock on, Fred.
You impress me.
And, yes, you infuriate me.
Now, about my deck.
Call me?
Please?