Nailed It...

SOME CONTEXT:

It will be useful to provide some background before we begin:

i) After spending 15 years in an office, I found myself on a building site helping in a family project.  You could say there was a tad difference in cultures.

ii) Being new to the building trade I wanted to make sense of it and introduced a project management board.  The aim was to understand progress and stumbling blocks. It worked well in the office and I saw no reason not to apply it on site.

iii) I had recently been on a Vipassana meditation retreat.  Possibly one of the most challenging & rewarding experiences of my life.  For the purpose of this story; one of the upshots being the realisation that all we experience are merely sensations. There is no ‘good’ or ‘bad’, these are simply labelling place on experiences.  It went much deeper, but this will suffice for the current context.

It is safe to say the project board went down like a lead balloon.  The team were not interested in being monitored or having to answer to why things were falling behind.  Especially not to the boss's son, the kid who did not even know how to hammer a nail (see story on Averages and Hammers). 

So in summary;

a) I was new to the building trade

b) I was trying a zen approach to life where there was no pain, merely a sensation

c) I had introduced a new task board highlighting who was working on what.

ON WITH THE STORY:

One of the tasks was to install the skirting boards in the flats and communal areas.  This meant using the nail gun.  It looked trivial, so much so that I thought it easy to master.  I went over to my trusted mentor and offered my help.

Carpenter: "There is not much to it, simply hold the skirting board in place and nail it down with the gun. About one every 3 inches should do.” 

Mr TaT: “Looks easy enough, okay, got it.”

Carpenter: "Nail them at an angle.  It will make it stronger and less easy to pull away."

Mr TaT: “Cool.”

Carpenter: “And wear gloves, don’t want to rough up those soft hands do we!” He was right, compared to the team, my hands were relative new-born.

Anyway, a while later with gloved hands, I was nailing away.  I was getting into the swing of things, gradually building up to longer and longer pieces of wood. Eventually I got to the corner piece of the hallway.

Holding the piece around the corner with my left hand and keeping it down with my right knee; I thought “dude you da man”!  To all those who laughed at the thought of Mr TaT in trade clothes and steel toe caps.  If only they could see me now!

So I lent in, as usual, pressed the trigger on the gun, as usual, and then saw the nail shoot and hold in plane the wood, as usual.

Only, something felt rather unusual.

For some reason I was feeling a sensation in my left hand. But I could not fathom why, the sensation appeared to feel sharp and warm.  I brought up my gloved hand.  A red-brown dot there at the tip of my finger.  These were new gloves and I could not figure out what it could be.  Peculiar still, the dot got bigger and bigger.  What kind of trickery was this?  I took the glove off and found the dot was my blood from a small puncture.  Turning the finger over, I saw my nail had been shattered.  It took me a while to realise what had happened.

In hindsight, and as the reader already knows, it was obvious.  

Carpenter: "You have nailed your own finger.” 

Mr TaT: "Huh, what? Have I?"

Carpenter: "Yes, look that’s your blood dripping off the corner of the wall! I said secure the wood to the wall not your flipping finger kid!” 

Mr TaT: "But how did my nail move off my finger?" I was in shock.

Carpenter: "You have gone through your finger, you idiot!” I think he wanted to say something stronger, but I was the boss's son after all.

Mr TaT: “Oh right.”  I sat there thinking about it. 

Carpenter: "Get to hospital you numpty! Make sure you have not shattered the bone."

In the post meditative state I was not feeling pain.  Merely a sensation that was to be experienced. In this case a mild throbbing coming from my index finger. 

I got in the car and drove to the emergency ward.  I was feeling rather pleased with myself.  Not at stapling my finger; no, that was stupid.  But the fact that I had not cried with pain.  Surely this was a thumping strong sign that I was on my way to becoming Buddha.  Only, my Nirvana was about to be cut short…

I came to a red traffic light and stopped.  There comes a moment in any meditative practice where the mind gets distracted.  Where it stops being zen like and becomes aware of the ‘real’.  This was that moment for me.  It went something like;

Oh, look there is a red light…

...hmmm, blood is red...

...hmmm, I am bleeding...

... hmmm, bleeding is pain…

As I heard myself say pain, I felt a razor-sharp zig zag travel up my finger, up my hand, along my arm straight to my brain.  Boy did I scream, at the top of my lungs, luckily the windows were closed.  Dear lord, the pain was excruciating.  I had stapled my finger with a bloody nail gun, oh my gosh did it hurt. 

Side note: I would hope that anyone who saw me screaming imagined I was singing to “What’s Up” by 4 Non Blondes, specifically at about 1 minute 30 seconds into the track. 

Fast forward; the x-ray confirmed it was only a flesh wound with no lasting damage. It would all mend itself. Great.  I managed to get back in time for the afternoon coffee break.  I was already expecting jibes about how I managed to cock up a relatively simple thing.  Instead, I was met with a very quiet room.  Had these guys, usually rowdy and itching to take the mick, suddenly matured and become sensitive to another’s plight?

I sat there in silence; maybe my chat on “respect in the work place” and the project board were having an impact.  Maybe I was beginning to civilise the crew.  Bless, it was all worth it.  I thought too soon.

As I got handed the coffee, the guy averted his eyes, looked at the project board, smirked and then pretended to find his shoes very interesting.  In fact, they were all smirking whilst sneaking side way glances at the board.

I looked up at it and saw my name tagged on one of the cards.  I put my glasses on, yeah it was my name on a card with a drawing of a bloodied finger.

I walked over to take a closer look, I could hear the team audibly laughing now.  Yes, it was my name, a picture of a punctured finger and a caption reading: “Nailed It” – Tick!

The ungracious Mother-BLEEPS!

Take-Aways: 

1)      Power tools are not be messed about with, they can bloody hurt!

2)      The sensation of pain is simply that; a sensation.  You can choose how to experience it... within reason.

3)      You will get little sympathy when you hurt yourself on a building site…Expect nothing!