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‘I get it,’ I tell him.
‘So, what is on the order form are attic trusses, which have the supports right at the edges so we can put living space in the middle. That’s not these. These are, to put it bluntly, fucking useless.’
‘You also mentioned something about them being the wrong size?’ I’m trying to sound as conciliatory as I can. He’s actually being quite helpful, and I’m keen to make the most of our truce, in case it’s temporary. He pulls a tape measure out of the tool belt around his waist and runs it across the bottom of one of the trusses.
‘Come and tell me what this says,’ he tells me.
‘Three hundred and fifty centimetres,’ I read off.
‘Exactly. Now look at the order form.’ I spread the paper out again. ‘Four hundred and twenty-five.’ He points out the relevant line on the form. ‘Clear as fucking day. They’re almost metre too short.’
‘And this happens a lot, would you say?’
‘Pretty much every delivery. It used to drive Andy spare. He tried to persuade the Bitch Queen to find another supplier, or let him use local suppliers, but she wasn’t having any of it.’
‘I see. Thank you, John. I’d better go and see what I can do about this.’
He smiles again. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, darlin’, but I’m not sure what you’re going to be able to do that Andy couldn’t.’
As with the workman earlier, I’d love to tell him that I’m not his ‘darlin’’ and cut him off at the knees, but something tells me that’s a battle for another day. He’s being civil, which is a big improvement on a few hours ago, so I swallow my irritation with difficulty and head back to the site office. I’ll get him later, I promise myself.
* * *
‘Williamsons building supplies, Ross speaking. How may I help you?’ The voice on the other end of the phone sounds bored, and I haven’t even started speaking yet. This doesn’t bode well.
‘Hi, Ross, this is Ella Mackenzie. I’m the new project manager at the Atkinson Construction site in Ashford. I need to talk to someone about the roof trusses that were delivered on Friday last week.’ I’m trying to sound authoritative, in the hope that he will start to show a bit more interest.
‘You can talk to me,’ Ross tells me disinterestedly. ‘What’s up?’ So much for that, then.
‘Two things. They’re the wrong type and the wrong size. We ordered attic trusses 425 centimetres wide, and you’ve delivered fink trusses 75 centimetres shorter than that.’
‘I see. And what would you like me to do about it?’
‘I’d like you to collect these ones, refund me, and deliver what we ordered as a matter of priority.’
There’s a brief pause before the voice comes back. ‘You said you were new, right?’
‘Yes,’ I reply, unsure what that has to do with anything.
‘OK, that explains it. Listen, I can’t do anything about the trusses you have. You accepted delivery so they’re yours now. Here’s what I’m going to do for you. You tell me what trusses you think you should have had, I’ll re-take the order and make a note to the factory to ask them to prioritise, and we’ll hopefully get them to you in a week or two. How does that sound?’
‘That’s not good enough, Ross. I’ve got clear evidence of what we ordered, both on the order form and the delivery note. The mix-up is definitely at your end, so I’d like you to get the new trusses here this week, and collect the old ones at the same time. It’s not our fault they’re the wrong size, so you need to take them back and refund us.’
‘No can do,’ Ross replies, and I get the impression that he’s actually starting to enjoy himself. ‘We can’t just magic these things out of thin air, I’m afraid. They take time to make and, now I come to think about it, you’ll have to submit all the details again, just to make sure there aren’t any more problems.’
‘What do you mean?’ I’m genuinely irritated now. ‘Look, Ross. We’re building eight identical houses in one style and twelve in another. You must already have the specs somewhere because you’ve delivered the correct materials at least once.’
‘Yeah, but if you’re saying we got it wrong, and I think that is what you’re saying, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, we need to be absolutely sure that doesn’t happen again. So you need to resubmit all the dimensions and specs. We will need to re-enter the specs into the system and get you to verify they’re correct before we can even think about going to production.’
‘And how long will that take?’ I ask, exasperated now.
‘Three weeks, minimum.’
‘Ross, I don’t have three weeks! I needed these trusses on Friday last week. There must be a quicker way.’
