Fool’s Gold

Making sure nothing goes to waste can be complicated.

It’s fair to say that most people would identify with the early lessons we are taught regarding being resourceful with things, and not being wasteful with materials that have value. 

Maybe it usually starts with a simple example such as a focus on food—cleaning up one’s plate, as it were—and being grateful for what we have. Of course, there is likely a subtle element of leverage that is applied in these scenarios, a promise of dessert, but only if all of the vegetables are consumed first.

There may not be any group of professionals who are more sensitive to the ever-increasing cost of things than those in the building industry. We learned very early on that we needed to be careful and accurate with estimates of how much of any given product or material we would need to complete a project, because the only thing that rivals the fear of coming up short is having a surplus that can’t be used.

Back during the more than two decades when we continuously built custom homes for clients, we knew that we must strike a delicate balance, ensuring that we had enough supplies to finish the job without being left with a half carton of this or a partial bucket of that. It seemed like there was often just enough to hang on to, but not for any practical application.

I surmised that I would deal with this conundrum by leasing a 10-by-20-foot self-storage unit where I could not only safely stash some of our bulky construction equipment but also those assorted treasures that were byproducts of almost every description. 

The storage unit cost only $100 per month, which seemed reasonable enough until I realized that I was going to need a second one in order to hold everything. “Okay,” I said. “It takes what it takes, and we’ll make up the difference by being super-efficient with leftovers.” 

I tried not to think about what it was costing me in time and money on each occasion when I would send a member of the crew on the 30-plus mile round trip to pick up a handful of leftover anchor bolts or a box of assorted joist hangers. 

Before long, we had enough remnants, trim hardware and special finish items to outfit maybe two dozen custom dog houses. Year after year, as the stockpile grew, it forced out the aforementioned equipment.

Then one day, I was jolted by the reality that 20 years had passed. The arithmetic was brutally simple. Two units at $100 each, 12 months a year for 20 years. Yep, $48,000. After thinking about it, I kept asking myself why the monthly rate had never been raised in all that time. I suppose the owner figured it would be more profitable in the long run to just let me cruise along in my state of blissful ignorance than risk losing steady, dependable payments.     

Heck, we were very skilled and creative builders. We could have constructed a nice shop building in those days for under $50,000. Instead, I couldn’t even give all that junk away and ultimately had to pay someone $500 to haul it all off. The man was right when he suggested there is a sucker born every minute.

Well, you can bet I’ve learned my lesson, though I will confess that I do have one particular fetish that I still indulge in. You see, I have this thing about containers. I especially like metal buckets and sturdy plastic jars. There is hardly a shape or size that I can’t find a theoretical use for. As a result, we are never faced with needing to discard any leftover screw, nail, nut, washer, or bolt. Ever!  

And we have plenty of safe places for small batteries, short pencils and the dozens of keys that don’t seem to fit any of our locks. Best of all, many of the containers fit nicely inside one another like those wooden Russian dolls, so it makes it possible to save multiple sizes inside bigger ones. We practically have our own Fort Knox. 

I’m sure you’ll agree, this scaled-down version is much more logical and realistic. It saves money and valuable space while preserving the satisfaction of knowing that nothing is going to waste. The only thing I’m still struggling with is figuring out what to keep in those nifty little single-serving jelly jars.