Routine Assembly

Thursday evening came around and I headed to my assembly job. 6 months into this gig gave me the knowledge and confidence to handle any type of task thrown at me. Rex had contacted me from out of state to assemble his girlfriend’s bed.

When I arrived at the scene, I organized my work space. I cleared the area to allow enough room for me to work. I unpacked the boxes and stacked like pieces together to help visualize the final product. Like the many times before, I picked up the instructions and got to work. 40 minutes into the job, I made a critical error causing me to strip a screw. Unable to correct the mistake, I had to explain to the client that I needed to come back tomorrow.

Disappointed, embarrassed, and a little panicked, I called the handiest person I knew, my dad. He suggested I research the problem on YouTube. Once home, I jumped on the computer and started my search to ‘remove a stripped hex bolt.’ The videos were plenty and I found a solution that just might work. Relieved, I shut my laptop and headed to bed.

The next morning, I re-watched the video and noted the parts that I would need from the hardware store. With my new knowledge and accompanying tools and parts, I headed back to the client.

I returned to my workspace with the half-assembled bed and various parts and pieces scattered across the room. My client slept on the couch the previous night; she was counting on me to make this work. I pulled out my hammer and, newly purchased, torx bit steel socket. Using some force, I lodged the torx bit into the stripped screw and then carefully extracted it using my drill. The screw slowly made its way out; the procedure was a success. I replaced the damaged screw with a new one and completed the job within an hour. This job humbled me and served as a reminder that I still had plenty to learn.

Please be home between 9 and 5

“This is a first.” Words I utter to myself quite often working in the gig economy. I received a task to wait on a contractor and furniture delivery guys. The customer would not be home nor would I meet or speak to him.

I turned off the engine and the valet driver approached my vehicle. I had learned to press the latch on the back of my key to separate the vehicle key fob from the rest of my other keys. I handed him the key fob and, in exchange, he gave me my valet ticket. Most of these swanky downtown condos do valet-only and charge a hefty premium to park your car. I headed into the lobby and asked for the keys to apartment 1207.

This felt a lot like a service where you stay in a stranger’s home in exchange for a fee. Inside the apartment, the dirty dishes were piling up and there were papers everywhere. My client had left some money for the valet on the kitchen counter. I pocketed the cash and opened the heavy sliding glass door to the balcony. I sat down in a chair and took in the immaculate view. I wondered how often my client had sat in this very chair. The half-filled ash tray quickly answered my question. I messaged my customer and updated him that I was inside and patiently waiting.

The task went smoothly and I made my way down to the lobby. I signed out of the guest registration and handed back the keys to apartment 1207. I sent the invoice to my client and I was off to my next job.