Pedro had been Hunter’s business partner for seventeen years, a case of two perfectionists who were fortunate to find each other because no one else could tolerate them. Hunter would rather rip up a brand-new roof and start over rather than leave imperfect work in the world; he’d lost six figures on jobs that he’d redone for reasons that weren’t visible to anyone but him and, invariably, Pedro. His partner hadn’t started as a roof guy but a tile guy, which was perfect—tile guys tended to see themselves as artists, surgeons. Hunter believed with all his heart and soul that guys like them were part of a dying breed of masters, leaving behind work that would baffle generations of mediocrities.
— Hunter in Jason Pargin, I’m Starting to Worry About This Black Box of Doom, 2024, Ch. Day 2, p. 127
File in the collection of unexpected wisdom from unlikeable characters.
There is no correct view of the world. Hunter (however insufferable) and Pedro found something they needed in each other, and came to an agreement to collaborate. I guess I’m primed to notice this now by the emerging plan to follow Kyle and Avvai back to Vancouver, Canada, and see how deep the rabbit hole goes1.
That’s the missing key for a lot of us: when a person who sees you as you are arrives in your life, find a way to say “hey, I think you have something I need”. That we so often let that opportunity pass us by has the essence of the Parable of the drowning man,
A storm descends on a small town, and the downpour soon turns into a flood. As the waters rise, the local preacher kneels in prayer on the church porch, surrounded by water. By and by, one of the townsfolk comes up the street in a canoe.
“Better get in, Preacher. The waters are rising fast.”
“No,” says the preacher. “I have faith in the Lord. He will save me.”
Still the waters rise. Now the preacher is up on the balcony, wringing his hands in supplication, when another guy zips up in a motorboat.
“Come on, Preacher. We need to get you out of here. The levee’s gonna break any minute.”
Once again, the preacher is unmoved. “I shall remain. The Lord will see me through.”
After a while the levee breaks, and the flood rushes over the church until only the steeple remains above water. The preacher is up there, clinging to the cross, when a helicopter descends out of the clouds, and a state trooper calls down to him through a megaphone.
“Grab the ladder, Preacher. This is your last chance.”
Once again, the preacher insists the Lord will deliver him.
And, predictably, he drowns.
A pious man, the preacher goes to heaven. After a while he gets an interview with God, and he asks the Almighty, “Lord, I had unwavering faith in you. Why didn’t you deliver me from that flood?”
God shakes his head. “What did you want from me? I sent you two boats and a helicopter.”
— Troy DuFrene, Two Boats and a Helicopter: Thoughts on Stress Management, Psychology Today, 2009
