Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Board - Bored (01/12/23)
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TITLE: Two Inches Short | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jack Taylor
01/18/23 -
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His older brother was always focused on the numbers. How many board feet do we need? How much is this costing? Where is the money coming from to pay for that? How many workers are we going to have to hire?
His father had it all in his head. “The blueprint has us 450 feet long, 75 feet wide and 45 feet high. I figure that’s just over three million board feet of timber just for the outside. Then we have the inside for the decks, room barriers and the rest. I’ve measured off over one million board feet for the frame. So far, we have eight of us to get this done.”
The old man had to be kidding. Eight. A hundred men wouldn’t be enough. This was going to take a century. The vultures circling overhead didn’t help with the mood. What were they going to do with this thing? At least the wood smelled good.
His younger brother wasn’t the most motivated of the group. Once again, he was lounging in the shade fading in and out of a daydream. “What are you doing?”
Jay suppressed a yawn, half covering it with the back of his hand. “I’ve been thinking,” he said. “That last plank you cut for me to place. It was two inches short of what dad said we needed. You know we can’t waste anything. Where are we going to put it?”
The board looked fine. Can’t believe it was two inches short. Big deal. “Whatever you do, don’t put it somewhere dad is going to see it. Stick it underneath where no one is going to notice. Who cares if one board is two inches short? What will it matter when we’re done?”
“Okay, that makes sense. But isn’t there going to be a gap?”
“Spit in the dirt and fill the gap with mud. When it dries no one will even notice. The old man is getting too old to crawl under this thing to examine it for the smallest flaw.”
Jay grabbed the board and moved to the front of the project. “You said the bottom, right?”
It’s unbelievable how some people fixate on the smallest imperfections. As if there was some law saying that everything has to be done completely up to specs. Putting in the hours day after day is getting monotonous. Fatigue is setting in for everyone. It’s almost like you can do this in your sleep.
Maybe that’s what happened with that board cut. Not enough sleep the night before. Or maybe a distraction by those rednecks mocking us for ruining the view, destroying the neighborhood, living in a fantasyland. How does anyone expect to work under these conditions? Some of us just need motivation.
Talking about motivation, what is wrong with that brother? Sleeping? How much work could it take to tap in a board and fill a little gap with some mud?
Oh, oh. Here comes the older brother. I think he’s been putting on weight thinking too much about the numbers and not putting in enough effort in the trenches. Is he eating again?
“Hey, I found this small chunk of wood in the scrap pile,” he says. “Do you know what it’s for? You know we’ve measured this project out exactly to keep our costs manageable. Dad wouldn’t want this to go wrong when it matters.”
“You mean dad’s boss wouldn’t want this to go wrong when it matters.”
“Whatever. I guess this is a leftover from something.”
“What’s he want?” It’s Jay again. Never there when you want him. Under your nose when you wish he was somewhere else.
“Shem wanted to make sure all the gaps are filled. That nothing is left over.”
“Yup. Stuffed that mud in there like you said. No one will ever know the difference.”
“What are we calling this thing anyway?”
“Dad says it’s an ark.”
“What’s an ark for?”
“Who knows. As long as we keep cutting these boards and filling the gaps we shouldn’t have to worry about a thing.”
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