Why Hiding His Worry Made the Repair Feel Worse
He met me at the front door with a glass of iced tea in one hand and sweat through his shirt collar, and the first thing he said was, "It's fine, no hurry." This call is a composite. I've run some version of it more times than I can count in 47 years, so I'm not putting anybody's name or road on it. It was the back half of July, one of those stretches where the nights never drop below 80 and the wind feels like it's coming off a stove. The house was a brick ranch from the seventies, with a low attic and the ductwork up there baking all afternoon. The homeowner was retired. His wife was home…
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