Howdy, folks. Glen Blamstead here. Last week I told you about Hank, the scarecrow who joined the Sherman crew and turned out to be outstanding in his field. Well, it's Halloween week, and I've got news. Hank has a coworker. His name is Bones, and he's a plastic skeleton about five and a half feet tall. I hired him on the spot. Unfortunately, he didn't have the guts for roofing.
I found Bones in the seasonal aisle at a store in Mora, right between the fake cobwebs and a bag of candy corn nobody asked for. He was the last one on the shelf, which I took as a sign. My wife took it as a sign that nobody else wanted him. We're both right, but I'm the one who brought him home.
Orientation Day
Now, every new hire at Sherman gets an orientation, and I wasn't about to make an exception. I walked Bones around the shop. I showed him where the coffee is. I showed him where we keep the screws and where we pretend to keep the screws. I introduced him to Hank through the shop window. Hank didn't say anything, but Hank never does. Bones didn't say anything either. Honestly, it was the most peaceful meeting I've ever run.
Then I tried to figure out where Bones fit best. I propped him up next to a post on a job site with a hammer in his hand. He dropped the hammer. Twice. I set him by the auger. He fell over sideways the second it fired up. I tried to get him up the ladder to help with the steel, and he just hung there looking at me with that big grin, like, "Glen, I'm not sure you've thought this through."
That's when one of the guys said it. "Glen, he doesn't have the guts for roofing." The whole crew lost it. I'm pretty sure one of them had to sit down on a stack of lumber. That line has now been repeated roughly four hundred times, and it gets a laugh every single time, mostly from the guy who said it.
Finding Bones The Right Job
So we moved Bones to the office. Turns out he's a natural. He sits in a chair by the front door with a clipboard on his lap and a pencil tucked behind where his ear would be. He greets everybody who walks in. He never interrupts. He never takes the last donut. If you ask me, he's the most professional receptionist we've ever had, though I'd appreciate it if nobody tells the actual front desk I said that.
Customers have strong feelings about Bones. One fella came in asking about a pole barn for his boat and his snowmobiles. He walked in, saw Bones, and said, "Rough week?" I said, "He's been waiting on a callback." The guy laughed, then got real serious and said, "Not from you guys, I hope." I promised him Bones was just there for the season. We spent a good hour going over doors and lean-tos, and when he left, he shook Bones' hand. Bones' hand came off. We put it back. No harm done.
Another couple came in to talk about a barndominium. The wife looked at Bones, looked at me, and said, "Is he what happens if we wait too long to decide?" I told her no, he's what happens if you try to install your own gutters. She said she was keeping that one.
Biscuit Is Not Amused
You may remember Biscuit, my dog, who has spent the last two weeks in a staring contest with Hank the scarecrow. Biscuit has now opened a second front. He walks into the office, sees Bones, and freezes. Then he does this low, slow growl, like a truck idling in January. I can't blame him. From a dog's point of view, Bones is a giant bone that refuses to be chewed, and that has to be frustrating.
The other day Biscuit snuck up and grabbed Bones by the foot. Bones came sliding out of his chair and landed in a heap right in front of the door, right as a delivery driver walked in. The driver stopped, looked at the pile of bones, looked at Biscuit, looked at me, and said, "I'll just leave this here." He set the package down and was back in his truck before I could explain. I'm not sure we'll get the same driver next time.
Halloween At The Shop
For Halloween, we're putting Bones out by the front of the shop with a bowl of candy in his lap. Hank is coming in from the field to stand next to him, because I figure they've earned a night together. The crows will probably show up too. Somebody suggested we put a hard hat on Bones, and I said absolutely not. The man has no guts for roofing. We're not going to set him up for failure.
I'll say this for Bones. He shows up every day, he keeps a smile on his face no matter what, and he's never once complained about the weather. In Minnesota, in late October, that alone makes him employee of the month.
If you're out trick-or-treating around Mora, swing by Sherman and say hi to the boys. And if you want to talk about a barn, a shop, or a barndominium, stop on in or holler at us. A real live person will help you. Bones will just grin.
