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He called me based on my reputation, and I accepted the invitation based on our university brotherhood.
Now here I am, in a room with an architectural model and a dozen clean-shaven men, all looking trendy and nouveau riche in plaid, herringbone and windowpane patterned suits.
I stand out in a “one of these things is not like the others” kind of way. My beard, Levi’s jeans and oxblood Doc Marten boots are notorious in the industry. I’m not sure anyone respects my fashion choice, but I’m known as “The Guy” who can engineer any seemingly impossible-to-build tower. That’s why they’ve flown me in.
The model we’re all facing has four key elements—a forty-five-story tower and three domes. The reason I’m here is the sixty-foot dome that tops the tower.
“A joke?” the CEO of the architect firm asks. “As in, this is too simple for you, or this really is impossible?”
I’m confused. “Seriously, does nobody else see what I see?”
“What do you see?” Mr. CEO asks.
“Really?” Using both hands, I point an index finger at each of the domes on the ground that flank the tower. “They look like balls,” I say.
Several men give me quizzical looks.
I point to the dome that tops the tower. “That looks like a glans.”
“Is that a French architectural term? I’m not familiar with it. In America, we just call it a dome, son.”
“A fucking glans. This building looks like a cock and balls. Grow some ground ivy on the lower domes, it’ll look like a cock with hairy balls.”
The room erupts in expletives and challenges to my sanity. I stand back and let them process what I’ve just said.
The CEO finally tilts his head sideways, makes a face like he’s seeing something for the first time. “I reckon it does have that look. Not a bad thing, though. I mean, it communicates power. People will see it and know that this building means business.” He squares his shoulders to me. “So, son, you want to see the drawings and tell us how we’re going to make that—what did you call it—glans? Make that glans stand tall and proud?”
“Junfeng.” I nod to the man I’d gone to Singapore’s Nanyang Technological University with fifteen years earlier. We’d finished top-of-class in the civil engineering department at what was the best Masters engineering program in the world.
“Jonathon,” he reminds me.
I remember. I’m being an ass because I don’t want to call him his Americanized name.
“Walk with me.”
“Excuse me gentlemen. Mr. Aspin and I are going to discuss the challenge this dome is posing.”
Once we’re out of earshot, I can’t hold back. “What the fuck, dude? You can see the giant swinging dick, right?”
“Yeah, I see it. But I figure art is in the eye of the beholder. You see a dick, the developers see a fat wallet, the architect sees notoriety.
“What do you see?” I ask Junfeng.
“My international break. I see a feature piece that will open doors to projects in more metropolitan cities. Hopefully in Europe.”
“No doubt that King Kong dong will get you some attention—good, bad or otherwise.”
We walk down two hallways, take an elevator up, and exit on a well-lit floor with an open plan. I look around and see men. All men. Not a woman in sight. Well, hello, 1950.
“The drawings are over here.”
Setting aside the fact that I’m standing in a building where it appears the only jobs for women are secretarial, in a city with more women’s shelters than elementary schools (I give them points for actually funding shelters), in a state that’s banned abortion, part of me thinks having this building in my portfolio would be an amusing conversation starter. The other part is appalled.
“Talk me through what’s not working,” I say to Junfeng.
We spend two hours looking at drawings. I identify a few adjustments to the structure and materials that, in the right configuration, would solve the integrity problem with the dome. But nothing solves the integrity problem with even considering taking a consulting role on this project.
I don’t need the money. I don’t want the professional credit. But I owe Junfeng one. He was the guy who helped me adjust to life in Singapore when I was still wet behind the ears. I hate that he’s stuck in this mid-level career hell and since he believes this is the project that will be his break, I agree to help.
