In appreciation of shoddy work

On Mother's Day I received an unexpected gift from a most unlikely source.

The day before, the workers who had been painting our house for 10 days announced they were as good as done and wondered if they could please have their check for their labor.

A walk around the house, however, showed that they were nowhere near done. The dark blue trim behind the gutters hadn't been primed, much less painted the necessary two or three coats of white to cover the blue. Same for the trim around the windows on the back of the house and the sliding glass door. Paint of both body and trim colors had been poured out in three areas of our yard. The workers, in replacing some siding, had removed about 100 3-inch nails and raked them into a hole by the side of the house, where I assumed they would pull them out. But no. Saturday's inspection showed that they had simply shoveled dirt over the nails and stomped it down, a few nails poking above the surface. In several places, white trim paint had dripped and dried onto the green body color. In others, brand new siding boards were significantly damaged. Nails that had been protruding from the siding were still protruding. Caulking work was sloppy at best. Cigarettes littered the grass.

My 15- and 13-year-old boys were with us inspecting the house. As we examined the work, they started making comments. And the comments sounded just exactly like me critiquing one of their jobs: Look here, they splattered paint all over these windows, couldn't they have cleaned that up when it was still wet? Why did they brush paint all over that bush? Why were their ladders and tools just thrown in a pile in the back yard?

For years I have expected my children to work hard, to go the extra mile, to clean up their workspaces, to put their tools in the garage so they don't rust, to not quit until the job is done, to do those small touches that show an employer that you have paid attention to detail, to vacuum not just the visible areas but under the rugs and along the edges of the room.

As we walked around the house with the boys, I realized, all the reminders in the world didn't have as much effect as their observing the results of shoddy work.

I may never have to nag again.

Thanks, workers, for a great Mother's Day gift.