. . . . Odd-Job Men

 

  

Among the Odd-Job Men: the importance of sifting the sharks from the saints. 

I have embraced the feminist movement with certain

reservations. No doubt men are selfish and spoilt but, nevertheless,

I like them. In a radio broadcast, Enoch Powell once said that men

and women were built to complement each other, not to be

identical, and that they should excel at different things. This fact has

much revealed itself in a practical way since I have no ‘houseman’.

I know nothing of electrical matters, Rawlplugs, or of manipulating

Black and Deckers; neither can I dig strenuously or put-up fences. I

cannot paper walls or put in DIY double glazing, neither can I attach

draught stoppers to the doors to any effect, or measure widths any

degree of accuracy. Obviously, I could with time learn some of these

skills. However, I am most inept at practical matters and not, I think,

right temperamentally for precision. So, I needed an odd-job-man to

help me.

 

There are plenty of them about. Postcards in the post office often

tell of their whereabouts and their skills. Gardening, window

cleaning, guttering, roof work, repairs, and other miscellaneous jobs

are all on offer. Speaking from experience, I think ‘who to trust’ is a

vital question when choosing someone to employ in your house with

probably no references, and no personal recommendations. I am not

naturally suspicious of anyone, especially if they are trying to work

and are unemployed, but it is a wicked world, and it is important to

be careful. If you live alone, consider what this man will know about

you and your movements, your door and window locks – or the lack

of them.

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I employed a man, one Mr Talbot, who I found through the yellow

pages, initially as a window cleaner, later as an odd-job-man. He was

friendly and enthusiastic, but clumsy, unreliable, and an amazing liar.

He had been an officer in the SAS he said, and told tales of spying in

East Berlin. On one occasion he had been sent to quell an African

uprising. Apparently, he had sat up trees in the jungle with his troops

and, with great daring and accuracy, felled hundreds of warring

tribesman. Later he had to leave the regiment on account of his

teeth playing up. (Actually, I do not think he had ever left English

shores). I list here just two of his many misdemeanours.

 

On his advice I bought a front door handle which he put on, taking

off the existing rather pretty Victorian brass one. This new handle

was too heavy for the lock and the pin in the middle broke under the

weight. The inside handle then fell onto the hall floor when I was

trying to get in one afternoon. Stuck outside, I had to pay £23 to an

emergency locksmith to let me into my house. The Victorian handle

was then put back in its original place on the front door. Mr Talbot,

like Mr Toad, would say anything to get what he wanted, totally

regardless of its truth. I had bought some tiles to put round the bath

and asked him whether he was anything of a tiler. He had,

apparently, been close to championship tiling – there was nothing he

didn’t know about it, he said. However, his skills deserted him with

my bathroom tiles. He managed to break several, put two or three in

the wrong place and stick the ones over the basin, upside down.

It seemed strange, thinking back, why I continued to employ him,

knowing him to be almost useless. Perhaps it was his availability. Just

when I was despairing of getting the Hoover going, or somesuch,

there he was on the doorstep, enquiring about work. Stupidly I let

him try again and he broke something else or committed a further

misdemeanour. I am afraid that Mr Talbot is not at all unique in his

inability to turn up on time or not at all, or to start jobs and not finish

them. Or to pop down the local shop where his brother-in-law works,

and buy you something which you do not require and haven’t asked

for. Fortunately, I have now, by chance, found a very good and

reliable man, Mr Wood. But it took four years to find him and much

wasted money, not to mention endless disappointments and risings

of angry temperatures. At some time, it has to be decided whether

odd-job-men are worth the stress they cause. Large firms are much

more expensive and not always first rate, but at least with a

company there are legal ways of retribution. There are none with the

odd-job-man.

 

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