At This Moment I Was Doomed

We’re finally doing it. We’ve committed to ‘the deed’. And though I’ve been dreading it like getting an amateur colonoscopy, we’re finally redoing our kitchen.
When we moved into our lovable and creaky 1911 house, it had been ‘updated’. But that was when Seinfeld was the rage, most women’s hairdos appeared to be the result of electrocution, and cell phones were the size of microwaves. (Little known fact: Early models did cook bacon.)

Like most guys, my kitchen needs were limited to a 48 quart cooler and toaster oven, so I didn’t really “notice” any urgency to the cause. Yet after some nagging threats knives being pulled discussing this with my wife, I finally admitted that Formica – an indestructible product first used in Jane Jetson’s kitchen – may be slightly out of style.

At this moment, I was doomed.

Within seconds, designers and contractors swarmed my house. My silly question: How did countertops trigger a major renovation?

Because, you idiot, the cabinets upon which the Formica is cryogenically fused are stupid and clash with everything in the world. The new cabinets will then horribly outclass the wretched appliances including Harvest Gold HotPoint Double Oven which has grease stains older than Larry King. That’s how.

This is when you get a look that basically says, “I’m surprised you still remember to swallow after chewing.” I was dying a slow death here. A tip to those of you who still have Formica: Move. Save your marriage and just move.

When the swelling went down, we met with a registered Kitchen Designer. Of course, the “UN” registered ones are all in jail – or should be - for putting the trendy farm sink outside of the “preparation triangle”. You just don’t do this.

Within moments, the Designer had suggested moving doorways, installing thousands of can lights and updating to a stove bigger than my college apartment. It had big red knobs. Something called a “Pot Filler” was mentioned (a second uninvited college reference resurfaced. I kept it to myself). Lastly, white marble was to cover every surface, I think including the windows. I glanced at my wife who was in full kitchen lust. Tiny but appropriate froth formed at the corner of her mouth. I began scanning the classifieds for a night job.

Cue The Contractor

Last summer, we added a bathroom for my daughter and the contractor was excellent. Good quality, on time, on budget. We “mentioned” the kitchen then. Wisely, he was semi-regularly in touch, even though he stays booked when many contractors weren’t.

(Make a note people: “Call me if you decide to do something” isn’t good enough anymore. He knows there are many skilled contractors around; several prowl our neighborhood.) Once the appropriate lip froth was wiped away, he got the next phone call.

After he saw the initial plans it was determined that we’d need every subcontractor in the tri-states area, including those for trades that hadn’t been invented yet. Then things got interesting.

The designer had her list of subs, clearly influential here. (Take another note.) The contractor had a list. (Note again.) Now if your note-taking hand isn’t cramped… we did too.
Only one subcontractor was on all 3 lists. Guess what this contractor did differently than the others? Put your best guess in the comments section.

Yet there will be a parade of subs, some below $2,000 in work. At least 2 over $20,000. Not big money for many of you guys, but multiply it by all the work going on in your town now. Somebody’s getting it, because somebody’s on “the list”. My advice:

Be On “The List”

Over the next few issues, we’re going farther into the “referral chain” than I’ve ever revealed. There are free jobs in this methodology, but most contractors overlook it or think they “just happen”. They don’t. Coaching members, expect an upcoming call on this topic.

You can also TWEET the living heck out of me, where I give random updates as they happen… as long as my wife doesn’t kick me out of the house during 8 weeks with no kitchen.