‘… I replaced all the windows, but I made the new ones as much like the old ones as I could, I put the windows into the same frames just with an extra pane of glass instead of one in every window, one pane that opens out, one that opens in, and it was so much easier to keep the house warm after the new windows were put in, I ordered the windows from a carpenter who made them to measure, by hand, the same way they used to make windows, so that the new windows were just like the old ones, and then I put the windows in myself, but not alone, Asleik helped me, without his help I’d never have been able to put them in, that’s for sure, we had to work together, but together we could do it … .’
– from Septology by Jon Fosse, Norwegian author and the 2023 Nobel Laureate in Literature.
“I’ve got a guy for that.”
This is my first thought whenever I face an emergency repair job or home renovation project that’s out of my feeble grasp.
Unlike many men, I don’t spend hours researching it online.
I don’t hunt for how-to videos or tutorials.
And I don’t stubbornly try to figure it out on my own.
Instead, I frantically sift through my mental Rolodex, desperate to pinpoint the perfect person for the job.
It could be an electrician, a grass cutter, a carpenter, a plumber or a car mechanic.
These craftsmen hold a special place in my head and in my smartphone.
For anyone too young to know, a Rolodex is an obsolete rotating card file device to store contacts, names and numbers.
For anyone who doesn’t know me, my toolbox is an obsolete collection of rusty screwdrivers, old hammers, half a roll of duct tape and a trusty tape measure.
When other men first see it, they laugh out loud.
My only skill set for household projects and repairs is to serve as a gopher for tools and snacks and stay quiet at jokes about my ineptitude.
That’s okay. I don’t mind—it’s well-earned.
I’ve never been handy with such things and stopped pretending to care ages ago.
“Desi, bring me that 3/8 ratchet,” my brother-in-law Preston barked once while wrestling with some appliance installation.
A what? Is it labelled? Where? Huh?
“Never mind,” he snapped. “I’ll get it myself.”
And that, right there, sums up our dynamic—it has for years.
While others honed practical skills, I only learned how to keep these people in my life.
Ratcheting together personal connections is my most valued skill set.
Take last month. I bought a new lamp post at the Home & Living Exhibition to replace the broken one in my courtyard.
At no point during the purchasing process did I consider installing it myself.
I feel accomplished if I can unscrew a stubborn light bulb from a fixture.
But a whole lamp post, with wiring and a cement base? No way.
Luckily, my good neighbour Lee—a director of a construction company—offered to have his contractors handle it.
They showed up after their workday, summed up the scope of the project, drove to a hardware store to purchase the needed items, and returned to complete the job.
I was genuinely impressed.
It would have taken me that long to find the right circuit breaker to turn off.
My role in this project was simple: order a few large pizzas, some fried noodles and soft drinks.
Oh, and serve as a gopher, again, though they spoke to me in a foreign language about tools, specs and dimensions.
I did what I always do—pretended to follow the conversation like I knew exactly what the heck they were saying.
A well-placed nod goes a long way with these guys.
In the meantime, I hammered them with riveting questions about lofty topics that no one cares about.
It’s one of my best skills—right up there with lifting heavy stuff.
Honestly, I could interview a 250mm pipe wrench if it came down to it.
(Yes, I had to Google the exact name and manufacturer for that thing.)
“Just YouTube it,” said Lee’s contractor, Wong, about home repairs.
“You can YouTube anything.”
Sure, I could pull up tutorial videos on how to fix my washing machine, leaking roof, install cabinets or replace a water pump.
But that still means I’d have to do the work.
For most men I know, home repairs are like a personal challenge.
It’s a one-way ticket to hell.
First off, I don’t have the time or the interest.
And second, if there’s a devil out there, he’s probably waiting to greet me with a sneer, an endless list of household fixes, and a brand-new Snap-on toolset.
(I had to Google this one too. A Snap-on set can cost around several thousand, which is why it’s the gold standard for professional mechanics and technicians.)
For months now, I’ve been dodging a big ‘repair’ project in my kitchen.
And before you imagine a massive renovation, let me clarify— it’s not the cabinets, the tiling or the countertops.
It’s only re-gluing a six-foot plastic strip on the floor that divides the kitchen from the hallway.
That’s it.
Normally, this would be my wife’s department—she’s the unofficial Minister of Works in our household.
But with her away, the strip has become my sworn enemy, mocking me with every stubborn curl upward.
I’ve thrown every adhesive I own at it—Gorilla Glue, super glue, you name it.
Today, for the sake of this column, I’m giving it another go with a brand-new product.
Wish me luck. Or better yet, ask a flooring specialist.
My storage, by the way, is something the kids always say a bit like the Island of Misfit Toys from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
It’s full of random, rarely used tools that gather dust and mock me from the shelves.
If they could talk, they’d have some wild stories about my less-than-graceful attempts to use them over the years.
The one item in that clutter that might defend my honour is the duct tape.
I’ve pretty much mastered the art of using duct tape for everything—except, ironically, actual ducts.
Never worked on one and never planning to.
At home, I keep a running list of ‘projects’ that need attention like replacing the sconces outside my office, fixing a sagging door or ripping out some outdated shelves.
Sounds easy enough, right?
Certainly not when you’re relying on others to get it done.
Again, I know a guy for each job, but getting them to do it is the tricky part.
That’s where my real skills come in: a combination of patience, noodles and plenty of subtle hints.
Do you know how difficult it is to weave ‘sconces’ into a casual conversation?
Well, I’ve got a guy for that too. It’s me.
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune.
