My father worked as an electrician while I was in high school. In addition to his day job, he moonlighted doing electrical work on nights and weekends. I often tagged along with him and lent a helping hand, learning much about electrical work over the years.
One Saturday afternoon, my father answered a phone call from Mr. Davis, the owner of a medium-sized convenience store on Hikes Lane across from the Kroger store. I joined my father on an initial visit to the store, and we discovered that the thermostat in a large open freezer case had failed. To fix it, we just had to remove two screws holding a cover plate in place and then unplug the thermostat and plug in a new one. We didn’t have a spare thermostat on our truck, so we drove to the electrical supply store and bought one. My father asked me if I wanted to tackle the installation by myself, and I agreed.
I borrowed the family car, drove to the store, and replaced the thermostat. My father told me Mr. Davis always paid in cash when we finished a job. I should tell him the charge was $35 for the service call (our standard rate) and $15 for the thermostat. Mr. Davis asked how much he owed as I prepared to leave the store, and I told him what my father said about the charges. Mr. Davis objected, saying he shouldn’t have to pay $35 to have a teenager come over and do fifteen minutes of work. I said I would have my father call him to discuss the matter and returned home.
My father called Mr. Davis and explained that the fee for the service call was modest compared to what other companies charged and that I had repaired the freezer quickly on a weekend night. Mr. Davis wasn’t convinced but agreed to send my father a check for the full amount invoiced. Mr. Davis added that he would not be using my father for electrical work in the future.
Mr. Davis’s threat struck my father as hollow since my father had more electrical work than he could handle and turned down requests to bid on projects all the time.
Some three months later, my father and I were surprised when my mother answered the phone on a Sunday evening and found none other than Mr. Davis on the line. Mr. Davis's kitchen lights were out, and he wanted to know if my father could come over that night to fix them. My mother knew our history with Mr. Davis and told him that my father was out on another job and couldn't help him. I guess Mr. Davis got the message because he didn't call again after that.
