AN AUSTRALIAN BUSH NURSING HOSPITAL.

‘Morning Glory’ was a bush nursing hospital in a remote country town and surrounded by shady eucalyptus trees, giving it a picturesque appearance. During recent renovations, it had just installed new PVC floorings throughout. It was my company’s product and it was selected because it needed only the occasional quick buffing with a floor polisher. Yet despite this ease of maintenance, I had received a phone call requesting my visit to sort out a ‘faulty vinyl’. Sure, sure, I thought grimly.
Sister Theresa, who was running the hospital, smiled when she saw me. It was a trusting smile which made me determined to get to the bottom of her problem.
‘Mal, our cleaner tried to buff the floor with his floor polisher but said your vinyl was too soft!’
Despite the nonsense I’d just heard, I smiled back at her reassuringly. ‘Is Mal here?’
‘No, he starts work at six o’clock in the afternoon’, she stated.
‘But, sister, if I can come all the way from Melbourne to impart some knowledge and help him solve a problem, don’t you think that this merits his being present in his own time?’
‘I’ll phone him now because he does not live very far from here.’ Sister Theresa liked to get on top of problems.
While she retreated into her small office, I walked around the building, head bowed and studying the flooring. It was very well installed and looked bright and friendly. Suddenly, I came across the complaint mentioned and knew instantly what had happened to the flooring. The cleaner had switched on his floor polishing machine without having a buffing pad on the rotating disk with gripping spikes and he had routed into the PVC flooring. Of course, he had not admitted to having made a mistake and damaging the flooring himself, but complained instead about ‘the appearance of the floor after having buffed it’.
Within half an hour Nigel Firty had arrived. He looked annoyed for having been called from his home, in his own time, and, showing no embarrassment, pointed to the spot of approximately 70 cm of damaged vinyl. He took the buffing machine out of the cleaner’s room and polished an area of passageway without any problems. Obviously, he had learned his lesson in the meantime!
‘Unfortunately, I was not here, Sister, when this happened but I am confident that it will not happen again. If I send you a large piece of the same PVC flooring free-of-charge, could you ask the flooring contractor to cut out the damaged part and insert the new piece?’
Sister Theresa nodded ‘That will be fine.’ She, too, realised that this was not the time to point the finger at anybody but to ensure a friendly working relationship all round.
‘Thank you for coming, Peter,’ Sister Theresa spoke again. ‘If you could help us with that piece of vinyl that would be great.’

MISSING SLIM DUSTY IN CONCERT…..

I turned and there was Ian, a youngish architect, smiling at me. He had set himself up on his parents’ farm and travelled up and down the country district, finding business and was seemingly cushioned against the vagaries of the economy that his city counterparts dread so much. Conducting my business was easy as Ian was naturally friendly to visitors. He did not get too many and that made me very welcome.

‘Be careful when you drive on to Dunkston and into Victoria,’ he warned.

‘I know, Ian, I heard about the plague of locusts on the radio. Unfortunately, I will have to spend a day in town because I have to put my car in for service,’ giving him an accusing look which went unnoticed. Anyhow, I wondered what there was to warn about? They were tiny creatures, weren’t they? What could they do? Plus, the government was constantly announcing that it was spraying the area, obviously killing them off before they started swarming, so if I kept the windows closed and the air conditioning on, they could not get to me. I just had to drive through the swarm in comfort. Easy!

Well, it wasn’t! I was wrong as usual and my hair greyed a bit more than nature intended. But first, I had to get the car serviced. There were two good mechanics and I chose one with the least cars waiting. The workshop was located at the begin of the town and it was unique because it had a life-size mannequin outside, near the road, with a motorised arm waving motorists into its driveway. Obviously, the owner of the petrol station cum repair shop had a sense of humour!

Looking at the dummy, I had noticed that it was also being used as an advertising medium for other things because it had a large sign hanging from its neck, inviting everybody to a play in the town: ‘Rome, sweet Rome’ it said in large letters - obviously a pun directed at the Italian population of the area. Also, the dummy was dressed in a Roman toga and, like in ancient Rome, had a laurel wreath placed on its realistic wig. With its finely detailed face and accurate proportions the mannequin really did look lifelike! To make it attract even more attention, the service station owner had installed a windscreen wiper motor that moved the arm. Waving at passers-by and directing motorists into the driveway was certainly a clever set-up!

Wally, the owner came out, smiling. He knew that another city slicker had been lured into his establishment! ‘You like my dummy, then?’ he started a conversation.

‘It’s incredibly lifelike! It certainly gets a lot of attention,’ I observed admiringly.

Wally nodded proudly ‘Yes, I put a bit of work into it,’ pointing at the arms. ‘I’ve installed a windscreen wiper motor. Actually I put two of them in the dummy and added hinges to the arms.’

I stared at the animated figure.

‘I’ve also installed a loudspeaker and work everything from the console in my office. He pointed to his small office with all the space occupied with paperwork and with spare parts used as paperweights. And sure enough, there was a microphone and some buttons and knobs giving the appearance of a primitive radio station.

‘I have only one problem’ he said.

‘What’s that?’ I could not think of a drawback.

‘Come into my office right now’ His voice had become a whisper like a conspirator’s. Eagerly, I had followed him. He placed himself in front of his microphone, his hands hovering over the knobs and buttons. His expression became grim and determined.

He obviously had forgotten about me, judging from his intensive staring at a van with a family inside. Clearly tourists, they had stopped in front of the dummy, and stared at it, talking to each other excitedly. Then one man had left the van and slowly approached the figure, as if mesmerised.

‘Watch this bastard,’ Wally whispered. ‘They all do that!’

‘Do what?’ I whispered back, feeling like a conspirator, too, only not knowing the plot.

The man stood in front of ‘Nero’ as I had named the Roman mannequin, reached out and tried to shake hands with him. This must harm the mechanism, I thought.

Suddenly, the dummy jerked and boomed at the tourist ‘Let go of me bloody arm! What do you think you are doing?’

The shock was very visible, especially as there was nobody else in the driveway. The man almost jumped out of his skin. Trembling, he sprinted to his van, got into it and drove off with the acceleration of a racing car driver.

‘See that?’ Wally turned to me. ‘They all try to shake hands and it damages the motors inside it.’

‘That’s incredible,’ I could only stammer.

But Wally was made of sterner stuff because I heard him mumble: ‘I hope his drycleaner can keep a secret!’

I had to stay in Dunkston while my new muffler was being installed and I also took advantage of getting a full car service at the same time. Wally was an old-fashioned mechanic who took his work very personally, and whatever he did, he did properly. However, I had some visits to make in the town: to the hospital, the local government authority and flooring contractors, all in walking distance, so not much time was lost.

Upon leaving an architect’s place and walking towards a Government department where more architects were waiting for me, I had passed a large cinema and noticed a sizeable poster advertising a concert by Slim Dusty. It was a pleasant shock because Slim Dusty was one of my heroes of country music. In fact, it had always been my dream to attend one of his concerts and witness this legend perform. His concert was scheduled for the next day! I was reading the poster with excitement when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

‘Hello, Peter! You are back in town.’ It was Terry Stringer, an architect, whose small office I had intended to visit.

‘Hello, Terry.’ I was pleased to see him as he was completely natural with none of the snobbish air I sometimes encounter from city establishments.

‘Yes, I was coming to see you this afternoon, if that’s alright with you? I have some new samples for you and your catalogue needs updating.’

‘Splendid, Peter. Let’s say about 3 pm? That’s it then. I see you are a Slim Dusty fan? Are you going to his concert tomorrow? It will be a great event.’

‘Unfortunately, Terry, I can’t! You know how it is - there is always another town to call on.’

‘I know what you are like, Peter. You are too correct. That’s what’s wrong with you.’

‘W-what do you mean?’

‘Let’s say, if you had a car problem that needed fixing or if you were not feeling very well and had to take a day off - you are entitled to it, aren’t you? Then you would have your chance to see Slim Dusty and nobody would know!’

‘You make it sound so easy, Terry’

‘But it is easy. And don’t forget that after the concert, you can meet the master in the pub and have a yarn with him. You know what Slim is like!’

‘Yes, he is very folksy and,’ I was pulling myself together, ‘I have my car in for repairs and a service today. I tell you what, Terry, if the car is not ready by this evening I shall stay here for another day. But only then.’

‘Please yourself. So I shall see you at 3 o’clock then’. Terry nodded and left me in inner turmoil. I have always been a stickler for correctness. It didn’t not matter how far away from a boss I worked, I always did the correct thing, otherwise I just would not have been able to look at myself in the mirror in the morning. Therefore, I decided to leave it up to God. If my car was still being repaired the next day, then I would have had no other choice and I would see Slim.

Wally, the repairman, smiled when I called on him late afternoon. ‘It’s all ready, Peter. New muffler and full service! The tyres are alright and I have just test driven it.’

‘Thank you, Wally. I am relieved that I have a reliable vehicle again and do not need to feel stranded any more!’

But there was a touch of regret in my voice.

http://www.peterfrederick.org                                         http://www.life-on-the-road.com

A SCHOOL IN A BORDER TOWN....

I had to make my outgoing phone calls quickly before the incoming calls prevented me from doing so! I only needed to turn on the ignition key and the loud buzzing of my car phone  told me there are many early risers in need of urgent assistance in some matters.

Right now, my good friend Tony from the Department of Education wished me a Good Morning! and came straight to the point:

‘I have received a complaint from the principal of a secondary school near the New South Wales border. He and his school committee are very concerned about their flooring. They have a new school cleaner and, as much as he tries, he simply cannot make any progress in his floor maintenance. And since the principal has requested my call, I wonder if we could go together to this school….’

‘Of course, Tony! You know I love to travel with you! Why, it will be a great outing for us!’

‘Ha, ha, I, too, enjoy travelling with you. A day away from my desk will do me a power of good.’

‘Let’s make it tomorrow, then?’ I will pick you up from your office at about 8 am?’

‘Great, Peter! I’ll let the principal know of our coming. See you tomorrow!’

‘Click’ and he was gone. I always preferred to attend to service calls right away as, psychologically, their perceived gravity seemed to quadruple with every day they were not investigated!

Travelling with Tony was a pleasure, as usual, as he did the actual driving whilst I attended to the incoming phone calls. In a quiet moment, I tried not to neglect my companion for the day:’ What’s new in your job, Tony?’

‘Oh, I’ve got a new lady boss, Peter!’

‘Well, what do you think of her?’

Not much! When she found out that I get every day approximately 400 emails, from all over Victoria, she ordered me to write a report for her, about each email enquiry and the action I have taken….’ His voice suddenly sounded very strained.

‘You cannot possibly do that, otherwise you would do nothing else but sit at your desk writing reports all day without doing any of your actual work.’

I was disgusted about such an instruction, from a superior who should know better, to such a hard worker.

‘Why, you would work yourself right out ouf a job!’

‘Yes, but that is what I have to cope with Peter!’

‘Unbelievable, Tony!’ And suddenly I found that working in private enterprise was not so bad!

Reaching the border town, we pulled up at a newly-built school, that was well laid out under a group of shady trees. As there  was a school holiday, the whole complex was looking quiet and deserted.

But the entrance was open and behind the glass doors was the principal of the school waiting for us, with his vice principal, the school’s secretary and the cleaner, who was easily identifiable as the only one casually dressed.

As soon as we came through the door, the school cleaner received us with the words: ’Your floor is giving me a lot of problems!’ 

This exclamation startled me as we hadn’t introduced ourselves yet but I recovered quickly and got on with my business of inspecting the flooring.

The floor looked badly neglected, to say the least. It had taken on the reddish-brown colour of the outside soil and was so thick that I could write my name in it.

‘It is beautifully installed!’ Tony remarked, giving credit to an  installation of highest standard!

The whole group of us walked from classroom to classroom, through the offices, sports hall and toilets, in silence, except for the cleaner who kept remarking at the bad state the flooring was in or sometimes just clicking his tongue disapprovingly and shaking his head.

With our round completed and back at the entrance, we were not even offered a cup of coffee but got icy stares from everybody.

I opened my folder to record a few details and asked the school cleaner for his business card to obtain all the relevant details I needed for my report.

‘I ‘aven’t got a business card.’

That was the first dent in this person’s professionalism.

‘Sam, here are our maintenance instructions.’ I handed him the leaflet. ‘It only needs a good stripping-back to get the smeary substance off and then normal mopping with a non-residual, neutral detergent..’

‘A what?’

You know, a detergent that does not leave a film on the floor. Here, there is clearly a film on the surface that holds back dirt and smears. It is also very slippery.

‘What is that? Where can I buy it from?’

‘Form a cleaner’s supply store.’

‘Where is one?’

‘I do not know the area but you will surely find it in the telephone directory under cleaners’ supplies.

‘Hmph’ a loud grunt was heard.

‘And also, if you have dirt barriers at the entrance….’ Again I did not get any further.

‘What’s that?’

‘You know, industrial mattings, for indoors and outdoors. They take everything off shoe soles and by the time people reach the vinyl flooring, they are clean. This saves most of your cleaning problems.’ I was directing this to an incomprehensible face with open mouth.

‘Of course, the industrial mattings need to be cleaned too, once in a while……’

‘How often is once in a while?’ The cleaner demanded.

‘That needs to be assessed, depending on its state of saturation.’

‘So‘ I explained the text on the maintenance instructions ‘The floor needs a good scrubbing and stripping back….’

‘With what?’

‘A floor scrubber!’

‘Where can I get one?’

‘Again, where you get all the other cleaning equipment from!’

He nearly asked me for the second time for the location of such a supplier, but something in my look must have jogged his memory.

Tony and I had to spend some time answering patiently all his questions and it turned out that he did not even have a floor polisher, no detergent and this school was his first customer!

But what really made me hot under the collar was the principal’s complacency. This man had had a high official of the Department of Education come all the way from Melbourne, accompanied by a manufacturer’s representative, who was struggling to cope with his daily appointments, all because of his floor cleaner’s incompetency!

Somebody, who had never cleaned before, with no equipment or   knowledge, got us two out of our way for a whole day, free-of-charge. There was not a word of reprimand from the principal to this cleaning amateur!

At the end of our visit, we thanked them all with great restraint and headed back to Melbourne, shaking our heads every now and then about the situations we’ve just found ourselves in.  

Peter Frederick

http://www.peterfrederick.org

http://www.life-on-the-road.com  

AGAINST THE WHOLE TOWN!

Clearly, I had the whole town against me! It was, admittedly, a small country community, but most of the population seemed to be here. Town councillors, the town engineer and financial controller, the hospital C.E.O., the local flooring company, including the floor layer who installed the vinyl flooring in this newly built hospital, the local press – at least I hoped that they were local and not state-wide – the hospital cleaner, the head nurse, they all were there waiting for my reaction at seeing their brand new hospital flooring.

Judging by their damning looks they had already made up their mind: ‘This flooring installation has gone wrong and it is the manufacturer’s fault! Why, the floor layer himself, is most upset about all this and since he was a ‘bloody good bloke’: a good member of the golf club, a shouter of drinks at the pub, and with a wife who is well known for her local charity work, it cannot possibly his fault'. Such was their reasoning.

‘And here comes this outsider from Melbourne, representing an overseas manufacturer, in a business suit, why, he looks as guilty as hell. Just look at him – he’s never done any real work!’

This was the message their dark and bitter looks conveyed to me when I introduced myself. Upon offering my business cards, a lot of hands snatched them out of my hand. The architect stepped forward, since the hospital committee and the local council were his clients.

‘Peter, this is the floor we talked about on the telephone. As you can see, the installation is unacceptable!’

We were standing at the entrance and looking inside, towards the reception and further down the hall into the interior. Since the daylight was excellent we all could see the complaint immediately. There were so-called ‘bubbles’ everywhere, the vinyl seemed to be blistering, and in the light, everything was so much more noticeable.

Now the crowd all raised their voices in disgust, trying to outdo each other.

As a routine, I said nothing but went through my standard procedure of checking my facts, point by point. However, it was difficult to make my assessment, to concentrate and ignore the background commotion.

Yes, the substrate was smooth enough, my moisture meter showed a negative reading, the blisters, when depressed, did not stay down, even for a moment before bouncing back with a ‘click’, the seams of the vinyl sheets were heat-welded to a good standard…

I continued my investigation and when I pulled out of my satchel an electric microscope, placed in on the floor and squinted at he vinyl pores, I seemed to gain a few points in the eyes of the onlookers.

Step-by-step I continued and by process of elimination, kept narrowing down the possible cause of this terrible installation. When I finally pulled back a corner of the installed vinyl and saw a whitish, powdery substance, with no trace of adhesion, the cause was clear. I straightened up and brushed the dust from my suit, especially from my knee area. Sweating slightly, I looked at the notes I’d made so far and knew from years of experience that there was uproar in store for me.

‘Well? What do you have to say for yourself?’ the floor layer said, stepping forward, with a defiant lower lip and his chin jutting out.

Everybody else seemed to be searching for the right words of condemnation for me and my flooring product.

I ignored him and directed my words to my client, the architect. ‘I am sorry, John, but this flooring has been installed with the wrong adhesive.’

‘Whaaat?’ An incredulous shout rent the air.

‘Yes,’ I continued ‘It has been installed using a latex-based adhesive whereas we specify a water-based acrylic adhesive.’ All eyes went to the floor layer who assumed a scandalised expression.

‘Which adhesive did you use? I asked him.

‘Well,’ he shouted at me enraged ‘which adhesive do you recommend?’

‘There are a number of very good adhesives that can be used for our vinyl floorings’.

‘Name one!’ he cried defiantly.

‘One such would be Orion 606, another one that can be used is…..’ but I did not get any further.

‘That’s the one I used!’ moisture was spraying my face as he bawled out his words.

‘That is very unlikely as the powdery residue shows a latex glue……’ To interrupt one seemed to be the acceptable standard in this town.

As everybody was siding with him, the floor layer continued:

‘Listen mate, I am using no other adhesive but the one you recommend.’

The crowd nodded as if they had known this all along. And with encouraging looks they seemed to appeal to him to go on and ‘sort this fella out’.

‘For your information, I am using no other adhesive – I have no other adhesive in my car! So, how can I have used the wrong adhesive? Tell me that, ha?’

Again this logic worked on everybody present.

I had to say something: ‘Well, I do not know what’s in your car, but this flooring has been installed with the wrong adhesive, hence nothing sticks properly. The material expansions are due to the air temperature causing the vinyl to lift off the floor and also around the edges……’

Suddenly the pandemonium reached a new level and I would not have been surprised if somebody had shouted ‘Hang him!’

‘Do you want to come to my car and have a look? Do you want to see what’s in my car? I have no other adhesive products in my car than the one you recommend! Do you want to see? Do you, do you?’ Again the floor layer screamed, clearly in a rage.

As everybody started to turn and walk towards his clearly marked panel van, parked at a short distance away, I had no choice but to collect my instruments and papers and head for the car as well, with the hostile crowd escorting me.

On the way, nobody talked to me and I had the feeling that somebody was already slinging a noose over a tree branch!

Leading the way was the floor layer his face leathery and expressionless but his body language was clearly saying to everybody the immortal words: ‘J’accuse!’

Finally we reached his car and without hesitation he opened its back door to invite a public inspection of its interior. It was full of pailes of adhesives, for all purposes and all brands – except the one he should have used to install the hospital flooring!

Peter Frederick

http://www.peterfrederick.org

http://www.life-on-the-road.com

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