Healthcare Hullabaloo: The Hole Truth

I’m excited.

I’m just shy of my 10,000th read of this blog. Actually, since I didn’t start using a counter until several months after I started writing the blog, I’m probably well over my 10,000th hit already. However, I’ll stay my celebration until the counter makes it official today or tomorrow.

At this mini-milestone, I am getting reflective as to why I bother to write this. Yes, I’m both passionate and concerned about the current state of health care, but can I really make a difference? Well, maybe, but there are no concrete guarantees that all of this will ever amount to much. So, why do I do it?

I have come to the realization that, like the scorpion on the frog’s back swimming across the stream; it’s just in my nature.

I recall a time 25 years ago when I purchased my first townhouse. It was new construction, and like many things built in the 80’s boom years, it wasn’t built to the highest standards. This was the day of the Yugo, remember.

The townhouse looked real nice from a distance, but it was plagued by a host of quality issues due to poor construction. The first time I turned on my shower, for example, nothing came out – at least out of my shower head. The shower water did pour into my next door neighbor’s living room, however. Not the most ideal way to meet your neighbor, trust me on that. Luckily for me, Sal was a good sport about it – Sal was a tough Italiano who worked on Staten Island in the waste management business. I remember being both upset about my malfunctioning shower and relieved that I wasn’t bathing with the fishes, if you catch my meaning….

Anyhow, the shower incident was just a harbinger of things to come. Everyday, it seemed, my neighbors and I added to our punch list of everything that the builder needed to fix under our homeowner’s warranty. In the meanwhile, the builder dragged their collective feet as they tried to stall us until the warranty expired. It soon turned into a game of wills and wits, with the homeowners pitted against the big corporate builder.

As winter approached, my fellow homeowners all started to voice the same complaint – the units were next to impossible to keep warm. Cold drafts pervaded the units, especially on the second floor. The builder, of course, denied any wrong doing.

One evening, as I sat shivering in my bedroom, I noticed that the drafts seem to emanate from the floor adjacent to the outside wall. In a moment of inspiration, I developed a theory of why we were getting the nasty, unstoppable drafts. The townhouses were designed so that the second stories were actually larger then the ground floors – they cantilevered out about 3 feet on either side. This overhang must not be insulated – Eureka!

The next day, I excitedly called the builder’s office to clue them as to the root cause of the draft problem. Instead of thanking me, they just dismissed my revelation – the units were all properly insulated they assured me. There was no way that the second story overhangs weren’t insulated. When I protested, they explained that I was crazy to think that the builder wouldn’t insulate such a critical area of the townhouse. Besides, the underside of the overhang was already sheathed in aluminum siding, and it would be very expensive and labor intensive to remove that siding just to prove me wrong, so the case was closed – period.

So, my neighbors and I continued to freeze throughout that cold, cold winter, until one night, as I shivered, I had another brilliant revelation – if the builder wouldn’t inspect the overhang space from the outside, I would do it from the inside. Like a man possessed, I grabbed my electric drill, attached a hole saw, and tore back the carpeting in my master bedroom. After cutting a neat 2 inch hole round hole in the floorboards, I shone a flashlight down into the abyss. Shocked but satisfied, I saw nothing in that large open space – except for the underside of the aluminum siding. As I suspected, the entire area was totally uninsulated.

The next morning, I stormed into the builder’s office and tore them a new one. I demanded that the site manager accompany me back to my house and see for himself how my overhang was uninsulated. After sheepishly admitting to their oversight, they got a work crew to come out, remove the siding, and insulate the overhang.

They assured me that this was just an isolated incident.

The insulation refit solved the heating issue in my master bedroom, but then I noticed that the guest bedroom had a similar problem. I asked the builder to please schedule a crew to come out and refit that overhang as well.

“No way” they told me. The master bedroom problem was an isolated incident – there was no way that they were going to tear apart my other overhang just to satisfya draft that surely must exist solely in my imagination. After failing to win that argument with them, I stormed back to my townhouse, got out my hole saw, and repeated my little craniotomy in my guest bedroom floor. No surprise to me – that overhang also had not been insulated either. Another work crew was dispatched to tear apart the overhang in the back of my house.

As the winter progressed, I bragged to my neighbors how my little hole saw brought down the evil empire of Kaplan and Sons. Of course, through chattering teeth, they explained that they had the same cold drafts, and the same cold shoulder given to them by the builder – my unit was an isolated incident, they were told – all the other townhouses in my development were properly insulated.

The revolution started with my neighbor Sal. He asked if I could come over with my hole saw and drill through his floors? Happily, I obliged (Sal, besides being a nice guy, was not the sort of man you refused unless you actually wanted an ice pick in your ear).

Of course, the results were the same in Sal’s townhouse.

Soon, I became the Johnny Appleseed of Belcourt. Have hole saw, will travel. I flitted from unit to unit, drilling holes in many of my neighbor’s floors. I actually never found a single overhang that was insulated. And I drilled enough holes to wear out my hole saw and my drill.

Several months later, my wife and I chanced to walk by a work crew refitting yet another overhang with insulation. After they removed the aluminum fascia, they gazed up at yet another neat 2 inch hole in the floor above their heads. One workman griped – “Yep, the asshole with the hole saw is at it again”. I bit my tongue as I walked past them, but my chest filled with pride.

I was that asshole, and I was damn proud of it.

So may be that’s my motivation for writing this blog. Someday, somehow, I dream of overhearing some CEO of a pharmaceutical company or insurance company referring to me as “that asshole with the blog”.

I know that the chances of this actually happening are between slim and none, but an asshole can dream, can’t he?

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