Issue link: https://read.dmtmag.com/i/280108
WORLD FENCE NEWS • APRIL 2014 • 63 The life of a construction estimator BY STEVE SAUCERMAN I'm a construction estimator. My talent and worth rest in my ability to compile and calculate costs for a vari- ety of building and construction proj- ects. I live alone on my 12 square foot island with one north window and the sand underfoot feeling suspiciously more like 26 oz. low-pile Berber (over a 3/8" pad). It's Friday. Awash in faded trian- gular scales, solar calculators, and in- comprehensible architectural plans, I measure, enter, convert, and swag my way through the workday until the muscles at the back of my neck grow too restricted to further relay a pulse from brain to fingers. And then I go home. As I drive, the vast, myriad detail of the day races around my brain. Un- related and unwelcome shards of data pelt away at more pleasing thoughts: the width of the hearth ... the gas pip- ing spec ... water table depth ... ad- denda number 3 ... and more. Why am I thinking about this? I talk to myself as I try to push it to the back of my mind. The clattering con- tinues, ebbing and flowing throughout the drive until – finally – weariness brought on by the week begins to creep in to calm some of the clamor. Relief. I pull into my driveway (3 degree weeks, but only really got into it on Tuesday morning. The plans were a mess, the specs boiler-plate, and the architect pompous and defensive when I called him with questions. I'd worked with him in the past and he was always the same; zero help and scared lifeless to make a decision or accept responsibility. Of course Andy – the city engineer and owner's rep for the project – wasn't any help either. He's a typical government em- ployee – a little red-haired dweeb with way too much tenure and not much be- tween his ears but bad skin and a va- cant, snotty grin. His head is too big for his body and he looks like he'll topple over from the imbalance. Alice – his secretary – spends most of the afternoon hours asleep at her desk. The fourth addenda arrived late Tuesday afternoon. It was 33 pages long. The bid date and time remained the same. We knew they wouldn't ex- tend it, because the still-not-yet-com- plete plans were three months late hitting the streets and the city didn't want to move the ground-breaking back. The Mayor wouldn't have it. Looks bad ... especially after the last fiasco, he said. pitch; 3,500 PSI concrete), hit the garage door button (1/3 horsepower auger-drive operator with 2 controls) and navigate my way through the (16' x 7' flush insulated, no lites) overhead door. I line the car up perfectly with a mark I made on the back wall and stop my bumper a perfect 10" away. My wife and kids are gone tonight. Per- fect. I pace 13 steps from car door to back door and fumble for the (Weiser) key to the back door and stick it into the (Troy style brass finish with nickel planted throw) knob. I turn the key. We are all gonna wake up dead some day. Reflecting on the impossibility of my last thought, I enter the kitchen and make a bee-line for the (21 cubic foot white Frigidaire with ice maker) refrigerator. I reach for a beverage (Budwesiser in 16 fluid ounce aluminum cylindrical con- tainer). Kicking off my shoes, I plop dormant on the sofa and sit without moving for 45 minutes. Mind and body are in neutral. After awhile, I'm sure a shot of Christian Brothers brandy would go good with the beer ... but there's no way I'm walking the seven feet to the liquor cabinet. The control is on top of the cabinet ... so it looks like TV is out too. I look around the room for my imaginary French maid ... but she's still not there and I'm still not rich. I find France on the globe next to the sofa. Content in complete exhaustion, I reminisce on the week. It started out good enough. On Monday, I got a lit- tle job by just $400; a storage building for one of the local parks. My number was $69,500 and the second-place guy came in at $69,900. That was sweet. It was a little one – but still sweet. Getting it was great, but it's al- ways nice to know someone else is in the same neighborhood. An estima- tor's greatest fear is coming in too low. More than one comrade has ended up on the street for leaving too much on the table. This one turned out OK though. Tuesday and Wednesday were un- remarkable; mainly getting ready for the bid on Thursday. On Thursday, things started going downhill. The bid for the fire station was due at 2 p.m. I'd been fiddling with it off and on for the last couple of continued on page 77