I used to work with an old carpenter named Pete. I can truthfully say that I knew nothing at the time, being new to the profession myself, and I was paired up with Pete to learn the trade.
Pete was somewhere between 50 and 98 at that time. He looked more cured than old, though, a probable result of sun, wind, and cursing. He was in the mystery age that some men attain, especially in construction, where it’s impossible to determine exactly how old the guy is – you just know he’s older than you.

He was one of those who make a point of letting you know he’s older and more experienced. He claimed to have been a carpenter for 35 years and I believed him. He had all of his fingers, although a couple of them were not exactly facing the right way. “This? Oh, this happened when I was guiding a big piece of formwork into place. Damn crane operator let it swing and BANG squished my hand. I couldn’t use it for weeks.”
Now, I can imagine the crane operator in that situation. There’s some guy in the distance with his hand on the load, twirling his other hand in the air. Things don’t have to move much to do a lot of damage. The most likely scenario is that Pete signalled something thinking it meant one thing when it in fact meant another (namely, crush my hand).
I don’t mean to pick on the old guy, but often confidence in what you know turns out to be not such a great thing.

Anyway, this was the man who was to teach me to be a carpenter. We weren’t working on concrete forming, though. Pete had long left that behind. We were working on a two-story building, and Pete and I were responsible for all the rough carpentry on the site.
For those of you who don’t know, “rough carpentry” pretty much means walking through mud to nail things together in the snow.
One day, Pete told me we were to build a set of stairs from the ground to the second floor. The steel structure that would eventually make the permanent stairs was not yet ready, but work needed to be done on the second floor. Stairs are far better than ladders and things get done faster if people can get where they need to be. However, I’m sure it was also a bit of make-work for me and Pete. There are times during a big project when there is not really a lot for a carpenter to do.
Pete was enthusiastic about showing me something new. “I’m gonna teach you the proper way to build a set of stairs. Now, the first thing we need to do is measure up to the landing to see how high it is. Then we know our steps are 2×8. So, we want a rise of something like 7 inches. So, …” He started scribbling on a piece of wood with his pencil. “Ok. That’s good. You go cut 36 2x8s 48 inches long.”

I set on it immediately. It did not cross my mind that 36 2×8 steps seemed a bit much for the 11 feet to the second floor.
“This is how you mark out on the 2×8 stringer. You hold the square so it’s got 7 inches rise for 7 and a quarter run. Then you cut it but finish the cuts with the handsaw.”
I watched him make the cuts and then I had to finish each one with handsaw. When we were done, he propped it from the ground up to the second floor. We cut another and set it in place, then I started nailing the treads down.
“Are you sure this is right?” I asked after nailing down a few. The entire thing seemed to sway with every move I made.
“You cut too many steps. Finish nailing those on and then we’ll screw one side to the wall.”

I finished nailing down the steps and carefully crawled back down the stairs. When I found Pete, he marched over and looked at the stairs and said, “What’s this supposed to be? You needed to make this level.” Then he walked up the stairs and before I could say anything, just as he reached halfway up, the left stringer broke and the whole thing crashed down to the ground.

Oddly enough, Pete was just standing in the middle of the wreckage. He was not hurt. He looked at me and said, “You’ll never be a carpenter.”

Originally published January 5, 2014