It’s become easy, in this era of not-on-time deliveries and forgotten appointments, to disparage our service economy and gripe about how service is going down the tubes.
But if my recent experience with a number of firms and individuals is any indication, then service as we used to know it is alive and well in 21st century America.
I won’t bore anyone with the details but suffice it to say I had a water problem inside my home, beneath my carpeting, that was initially thought to have been caused by a sinking patio. Eventually it was determined that a small pipe had burst within an interior wall and for months, unbeknownst to me, the resulting slow leak had been soaking my carpet by a trickle, kind of like being killed by a thousand scratches.
Ultimately, I required the services of 1) my insurance agent; 2) a handyman; 3) a plumber; 4) a carpet repairer and cleaner; 5) a concrete mud-jacking company; 6) a door company; 7) an insurance adjuster; 8) a carpeting firm representative; and 9) carpet-layers.
Just about everyone, I’d say, except 11 lords a’ leaping and a partridge in a pear tree.
To say that the whole experience was positive would be understating the truth by miles.
So in the interest of making every company out there that provides any of the above services feel good about themselves, I’m not going to name any of the firms involved here. Suffice it to say that they were all west suburban-based, and the people who took care of my various house problems were uniformly on time, courteous, conscious of my time and did their work rapidly and very much to my satisfaction.
Almost sounds as if they were all Boy Scouts, eh? Well, they weren’t, but they were extremely competent professionals who did their jobs very well.
And they were professionals, because professionals to me are not just doctors or lawyers or high-falutin’ types who sniff thin air and then put on airs while looking down their noses at those who aren’t fit to mingle with them—academically, culturally, socially, or what have you.
Any worker who takes pride in his or her work and does it well is a professional, in my book. Some may have a boatload of degrees, some may barely have a high school education.
Personally, I’d rather hang around with some shot-and-beer types rather than some of the so-called elites of society. They’re a little more real, having been out there in the real world, struggling to make a buck rather than having a big business or a billion bucks left to them.
I may be able to write this column and edit this newspaper and do some things that the plumber or mud-jacking contractor or carpet-layer or door installer can’t do, but rest assured I don’t have the knowledge or the skill to do their jobs, either.
While I am reasonably handy around my house and can do elementary things with a hammer, screwdriver, pliers and other non-electric tools, I draw the line at working on or near places or things that can result in electrocution or flooding.
We have, in this affluent and well-educated suburban region, often looked down on skilled labor as somehow not equal to the work of those of us who use our brains alone. That’s the key, folks—we use our brains, sometimes alone. These manual laborers, these skilled people, use their hands and their brains.
To handle plumbing you have to know about valves, pipes and water pressure; to lay carpet you have to figure square-footage and how much carpet will take up how much space. To install a patio door/window you have to know angles.
We should respect all people who work, not just those who do jobs that we think are the “best” jobs or those with some supposed high social strata.
So instead of repeating that famous line from “Network” in which Peter Finch yelled, “I’m mad as hell and I’m not gonna take it anymore,” I’m inclined to say just the opposite.
I’m so darn happy with the service I received that I’d like more of the same.
As Labor Day approaches, thanks to all who work hard at their jobs, whatever they may be.
Contact editor Don Kopriva at dkopriva@thebusinessledger.com or at 630-428-8788.