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In which my brother-in-law is a lazy, officious prick, and is given a reminder.
More weekend shenanigans
As mentioned elseJournal, I spent most of Sunday and part of Monday doing physical labor out in the heat for my father and stepmother.
One of these tasks involved taking down a pair of birdhouses perched atop high metal poles (I think they're technically Martin houses, but it seems the bluebirds like them just fine), and "helping" my brother-in-law mount them into new concrete bases. Apparently his parents had a similar set of birdhouses, and his father had set up an arrangement with pieces of sign-post cut to form brackets to hold the pole, and a pair of bolts running through both brackets and the pole in order to hold it upright. This allows you to take out one bolt, lay the support pole over onto the ground to clean out the birdhouse, then just rotate the pole upright again and slide the bolt home to return it to its original position.
Simple concept. With the proper tools, even a fairly simple execution.
Unfortunately, we didn't really have the proper tools.
When his father did this, he used a drill press. We had one hand-drill, and nothing to clamp things into place with. I don't know if it was the drill, the drill bit, or the metal I was drilling, but I was literally having to press almost my entire body weight (yes, I mean that my feet were coming up off the ground, and all the weight being supported on my hands/arms, which were on the drill)... and at that, it still took several hours to drill the dozen holes needed for this arrangement.
Brother-in-law's contribution to this process? He sat in his chair and placed his foot on the piece of metal I was drilling to help hold it steady.
Before we started this process, I pointed out to him that getting these things lined up properly and set into the cement base while it dried was going to be a challenge... and that it would be much less complicated to use the same sort of brace-and-crossbolt base structure, but rather than trying to run the bolts through the poles, just lash the poles to the crossbolts.
For those of you who don't know, I was a Scout Leader for 5 years, including Scoutmaster for 1 year. I'm good with knots, and when I lash something together, it *stays* lashed together. Over the years of working on hunting stands and various other chores around that place, most members of the family have come to realize that there is very little I can't accomplish/construct/repair if you give me the right amount and right type of rope.
Apparently, BrotherInLaw is not among these.
When I proposed this, he turned very condescending, going on about, "Now you know that won't hold for long..." etc.
I debated the issue with him for a little while, then decided to walk away before his attitude caused me to lose my temper. Especially since he hadn't quite gotten to the point of saying, "and I'm bigger than you and we're going to do it this way because I say so!" but his tone was getting closer to that than I liked.
So we did it his way.
One braces/bolts/pole set seemed to come out fairly well, so I didn't have too much misgiving about him taking the set apart and putting the braces into the concrete using the TLAR method ("That Looks About Right"). However, the other set didn't come out as well -- the holes didn't line up as well, to the point that you needed to tap the bolts into place with a hammer. Needless to say, the odds of the TLAR method being able to successfully reposition those braces are extremely small. I tried pointing this out to him, saying that I thought we should either put the entire assembly into the concrete as one unit, or else re-drill one of the holes. He started getting belligerent, telling me he knew WTF he was doing, and I should just shut up and let him take care of it.
Welllll...
A little later in the afternoon, his 15-year-old son mentioned to me that he and his friends like to cut pieces of cane and pretend that they're sword-fighting with them. So I told him how neat that sounded... and went over to the car, pulled out a pair of Escrima sticks, handed one to him, and asked him to show me. Basically, they're pseudo-fencing, so we 'crossed blades' a few times, until he got tired of getting poked in the chest without being able to give any return blows.
Since he'd tired of that game, I started showing him some basic stick-fighting techniques, including one of the fundamental drills. My father and BrotherInLaw are sitting off to the side watching this, thinking this is the best entertainment they've had all week. They're over there cheering us on, making references to Robin Hood movies, etc... and I decided it was time to remind Mr. BigShot BrotherInLaw that he really doesn't want to get physical with me.
I continued going through the drill with my nephew, then in between one strike and the next I went from being at the farthest range we could stand and still have our sticks make contact, to being a few inches away from him with my stick just brushing his jaw, and me standing there grinning into his face...
There was a moment of dead silence from our cheering squad as they processed what had just happened, and that I had just pulled that kind of speed and surprise after spending several hours in primarily-arm-based strenuous activity. Then my nephew screamed like Muerte from "Undercover Blues" ::G:: and jumped about 4 feet back, and his father started screaming, "Holy sh*t, WTF was that???" And I looked over at my father, who just sat there grinning, very well aware of what I'd done and why.
It was probably a cheap shot, but it still felt good, and the only harm my nephew suffered was to his ego... and maybe to his trousers. ::G::
As for the birdhouses, my father and I are in complete agreement that there's no way the second one will work the way BrotherInLaw is trying to do it... but I told him not to worry -- that after BrotherInLaw admits that it won't work this way, I know a way to work around his screw-up. ::G::
More weekend shenanigans
As mentioned elseJournal, I spent most of Sunday and part of Monday doing physical labor out in the heat for my father and stepmother.
One of these tasks involved taking down a pair of birdhouses perched atop high metal poles (I think they're technically Martin houses, but it seems the bluebirds like them just fine), and "helping" my brother-in-law mount them into new concrete bases. Apparently his parents had a similar set of birdhouses, and his father had set up an arrangement with pieces of sign-post cut to form brackets to hold the pole, and a pair of bolts running through both brackets and the pole in order to hold it upright. This allows you to take out one bolt, lay the support pole over onto the ground to clean out the birdhouse, then just rotate the pole upright again and slide the bolt home to return it to its original position.
Simple concept. With the proper tools, even a fairly simple execution.
Unfortunately, we didn't really have the proper tools.
When his father did this, he used a drill press. We had one hand-drill, and nothing to clamp things into place with. I don't know if it was the drill, the drill bit, or the metal I was drilling, but I was literally having to press almost my entire body weight (yes, I mean that my feet were coming up off the ground, and all the weight being supported on my hands/arms, which were on the drill)... and at that, it still took several hours to drill the dozen holes needed for this arrangement.
Brother-in-law's contribution to this process? He sat in his chair and placed his foot on the piece of metal I was drilling to help hold it steady.
Before we started this process, I pointed out to him that getting these things lined up properly and set into the cement base while it dried was going to be a challenge... and that it would be much less complicated to use the same sort of brace-and-crossbolt base structure, but rather than trying to run the bolts through the poles, just lash the poles to the crossbolts.
For those of you who don't know, I was a Scout Leader for 5 years, including Scoutmaster for 1 year. I'm good with knots, and when I lash something together, it *stays* lashed together. Over the years of working on hunting stands and various other chores around that place, most members of the family have come to realize that there is very little I can't accomplish/construct/repair if you give me the right amount and right type of rope.
Apparently, BrotherInLaw is not among these.
When I proposed this, he turned very condescending, going on about, "Now you know that won't hold for long..." etc.
I debated the issue with him for a little while, then decided to walk away before his attitude caused me to lose my temper. Especially since he hadn't quite gotten to the point of saying, "and I'm bigger than you and we're going to do it this way because I say so!" but his tone was getting closer to that than I liked.
So we did it his way.
One braces/bolts/pole set seemed to come out fairly well, so I didn't have too much misgiving about him taking the set apart and putting the braces into the concrete using the TLAR method ("That Looks About Right"). However, the other set didn't come out as well -- the holes didn't line up as well, to the point that you needed to tap the bolts into place with a hammer. Needless to say, the odds of the TLAR method being able to successfully reposition those braces are extremely small. I tried pointing this out to him, saying that I thought we should either put the entire assembly into the concrete as one unit, or else re-drill one of the holes. He started getting belligerent, telling me he knew WTF he was doing, and I should just shut up and let him take care of it.
Welllll...
A little later in the afternoon, his 15-year-old son mentioned to me that he and his friends like to cut pieces of cane and pretend that they're sword-fighting with them. So I told him how neat that sounded... and went over to the car, pulled out a pair of Escrima sticks, handed one to him, and asked him to show me. Basically, they're pseudo-fencing, so we 'crossed blades' a few times, until he got tired of getting poked in the chest without being able to give any return blows.
Since he'd tired of that game, I started showing him some basic stick-fighting techniques, including one of the fundamental drills. My father and BrotherInLaw are sitting off to the side watching this, thinking this is the best entertainment they've had all week. They're over there cheering us on, making references to Robin Hood movies, etc... and I decided it was time to remind Mr. BigShot BrotherInLaw that he really doesn't want to get physical with me.
I continued going through the drill with my nephew, then in between one strike and the next I went from being at the farthest range we could stand and still have our sticks make contact, to being a few inches away from him with my stick just brushing his jaw, and me standing there grinning into his face...
There was a moment of dead silence from our cheering squad as they processed what had just happened, and that I had just pulled that kind of speed and surprise after spending several hours in primarily-arm-based strenuous activity. Then my nephew screamed like Muerte from "Undercover Blues" ::G:: and jumped about 4 feet back, and his father started screaming, "Holy sh*t, WTF was that???" And I looked over at my father, who just sat there grinning, very well aware of what I'd done and why.
It was probably a cheap shot, but it still felt good, and the only harm my nephew suffered was to his ego... and maybe to his trousers. ::G::
As for the birdhouses, my father and I are in complete agreement that there's no way the second one will work the way BrotherInLaw is trying to do it... but I told him not to worry -- that after BrotherInLaw admits that it won't work this way, I know a way to work around his screw-up. ::G::
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Suggest nephew didn't suffer any harm except to learn not to make assumptions about people.
I would not have proceeded with the birdhouse plan after the BIL telling me how to do it but not actively helping - I'd have left him to it and done it my way once he was gone - but then I grew up with passive agressive people (and where the women did the DIY)
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The main reason I did so much of the work was for my father's peace of mind -- he knows that if I do it, or if GryphonRhi does it, then even if we don't agree with how it's being done we'll find a way to make it work. If she or I do it (and especially if she *and* I do it), then he and my stepmother will have the utmost confidence in it.
For that, I will put up with a lot.
And yes, BIL and stepsister are both very passive-aggressive.
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My sister and I go, get the furniture and I assemble it before BIL get's home. Often with the help of my niece, who shows signs of being more mechanically inclined than either of her parents. (Thankfully)
Congratulations on restraining yourself successfully and escaping!
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At our suggestion, my father bought a new computer desk for my stepmother a few years ago. GryphonRhi and I told him we'd take care of assembling it for him, so the fact that it had umpteen-jillion pieces wasn't a problem. ::G::
He watched us put it together, and she and I have long practice at working together. We just grinned at each other when we overheard him later telling my stepmother that watching us work together was like watching one person with four hands. 8-)