Roof Leak Hits New Low

In my last edition of Roof Leak, I wrote about a conversation I imagined to have taken place in a small Mexican border town:

“When you get across the border, call my cousin Jesús. He’s a roofer, he’ll have a job for you.”

“But Pablo, I know nothing about roofing.”

“Don’t worry, Juan. My cousin will explain what you need to know. It’s called on-the-job training. The important thing is to work fast. The faster you work, the more roofs you do, and the more money you make. Don’t worry about being perfect.”

Sunday evening I located Ben, the former owner of the defunct company that shingled my roof two years ago. I told him about the roof leak and he said he would get in touch with the boss of the roofing crew . He said the man’s name – wait for it, wait for it – is Jesús.

Now it’s Wednesday and it’s raining and snowing and I haven’t heard anything from Ben or Jesús. But now I have a leak in my living room ceiling. I have a bucket sitting on the floor below the leak. My plaster ceiling is being damaged, eaten away by water running through it, with streaky water stains extending from the original leak and birthing several new leaks.

My first thought was the drip catch tray under the roof had filled and was overflowing. I hurried upstairs to inspect the catch tray. To my surprise, the tray was empty. I saw some wet boards but no drip. Rainwater was entering around the dormer but instead of dripping it was running down the dormer structure to the plasterboard of the living room ceiling. There was no place to intercept the leak.

The thing that annoys me most is: the old roof wasn’t leaking; I paid $5000 for a new roof to ensure that I had a sound roof that would not leak and ruin my ceiling, and since then the new roof has developed two leaks in different locations.

It reminds me of something I read long, long ago. The writer said that, in business, there are three kinds of people. The first kind will tell you they won’t screw you, but they’re lying. The second kind will tell you at the outset that they’re going to screw you. The third kind will assure you they won’t screw you, and they really mean it, but they screw you anyway.

I called Ben, and he told me he hadn’t been able to contact Jesús until just an hour before I called. Maybe there is a fourth kind of person in business: the kind that stands behind the work they do. I hope there is, because I’m beginning to feel a little bit like Diogenes, who wandered ancient Greece with a lantern, searching for an honest man.