The D. Christopher Davis Award ~ My Most Prized Possession
Mr. Davis was my hero. We met around Y2K when I did a carpet repair for him in his Anaheim condo. If memory serves, the carpet became detached at the tile transition to the master bath. The transition work was poorly done, I don’t recall the exact particulars but it had some sort of wood shim ramp under it. The tile was installed on a cement backer board (CBU), because the area was on a second level wood subfloor. The carpet had to be raised to meet the top of the tile. I could have ripped the whole abomination apart and repaired it properly; but Chris said, no. Just button it up, he said – so I’m not tripping on it. I said okay, while I inadvertently let out a tiny chuckle, and proceeded to do just that.
He asked me what he owed me. I said, and I remember verbatim, ‘you’re the CEO of the World Floor Covering Association, an association that represents and lobbies for flooring dealers worldwide in Washington DC. You support quality installation. If that doesn’t entitle you to a tiny little industry perk, I don’t know what does.’ But I remember thinking at the time – I wonder if this carpet was installed when he owned the place? I didn’t have the heart to ask. Though, I think we both knew the answer, but we left it – unmentioned. It has been an unmentionable, in this case anyway, until now.
Then he gave me the tour of his art. The most tasteful female nude art I have ever laid my eyes on. He had a lot of it, hung high up, like on, uh, to the top of second floor walls where it looked like these women were put on a pedestal from the vestibule below. It’s something he left me. Not his art, but his taste for it. To this day, I do love and appreciate it.
He wasn’t done rewarding me, though. He took me out for a ride to lunch in his BMW, 750i. Fancy. It was pretty high up there from what I knew of BMW i numbers. BMW did i’s long before Apple appropriated the letter. It was the fanciest car this carpet layer at the time ever had the pleasure of riding shotgun. I was afraid to touch anything. Kept my arms folded or sat on my hands. It was weird. I experienced then, not for the first time, but for the first, most meaningful time, what a fish out of water must feel like. I think we just made small talk as I’m sure my discomfort was apparent.
So, we get to the diner, and uh, we sit in a booth across from each other on what is now ironically, a vinyl covered slab of cushion. Both of us positioned in the middle of our respective seats. Looking eye to eye, he was a large man, and I’m a small man. I felt diminutive in comparison and a bit intimidated. Looking back, it felt more uncomfortable than performing in front of 40,000 people, which I did in January when I lost the Surfaces 2001 National Installation Contest; because I stretch according to industry specs and broke a seam open. I love irony because the next year when I won, I stretched to specs and broke through the unsupported drywall of the mock-up. The Judge said, there’s no rule you can’t bust through the wall, so we can’t deduct points for that. The fact of the matter was many of the competitors traveled to get there and it was merely four months after 9-11. So the AZ Coalition drove to Vegas with a JOBOX. I was sharing tools with my buddy, Billy B, ironically the competitor from the Southwest Region. Rest his soul, he had the stretch board at the time of the incident. Because he had a little one that fit in the box, I had a big one, so I guess he had dibs, and he held on to that like it was gold. Yeah it was sabotage, but that’s okay, he apologized. CFI published a nice article of his, where he congratulates me. It bordered on sarcasm, he got his fifteen minutes of fame off my back, but he and I knew what the deal was. He got a bit antisemitic going forward and we ceased being friends. Then our VP, Steve, got in a horrible car accident. He was the heart of the operation, the heart was gone, the movers and shakers, the AZ Coalition was disbanded.
I think my nervousness stemmed from not having anything to do with my hands; and I mean he was a successful CEO and all. I was a carpet layer, who just came back from traveling to Vancouver, Washington to win the WFCA Northwest Regional Installation Contest in the pouring rain. I felt like a soak and wet desert rat in defeating the reining National incumbent. That made the locals mad. They said, uh, that I was a ringer sent in by CFI. I still get a good laugh out of that one. A Ringer. If they only knew CFI wouldn’t spend a nickel on installers. They take, they don’t give. I was there on my own dime, raising the bar, the same deal when I was the elected Treasurer and President of The Grand Canyon State Chapter of CFI, which I invested with both my time and money. No different as my work with the First National Chapter’s Committee, Internet Committee and their joke of a board of directors. I was too noisy to ignore.
They let me close but they kept me far enough away from the inner circle to pull back the curtain. I like to think I earned it the abuse, because the rest of the AZ Coalition worked very hard and gave very much of themselves as well. There was no pay, and when I won The National Installation Contest in 2002 the prize was only $1000; it cost me more to get to Vegas and compete. If I were a gambler, I would have never left Nevada with that check and would have had empty pockets; to add insult to injury. Thankfully, I can live on Chicken & Rice ’cause that’s about all you can afford as a carpet mechanic. Plus it’s the leanest of protein and cleanest of carbs. Luckily, I was able to leave with my body parts intact as the Teamsters didn’t take kindly to our independent presence; noting they were dropping dumpsters in our path as obstacles, as the AZ Team made our way through the loading dock. Boom! Boom! Yup, the independent craftsmen out-competed the union mechanics from the INSTALL program that year. By a large margin. That was quite an accomplishment at a time when there was definitely a fierce Independent-Union rivalry in the trades.
I don’t want to stray too far off-topic; in that something interesting developed at that lunch meeting with Chris. I don’t know if it changed my life, but sent me out on a path, in a direction unknown at the time, but has led me right here. Chris excused himself and went to the restroom. He’s gone a little bit when the food arrives. I think it’s bad manners to start eating before everyone’s at the table, I was hungry, as the wonderful aroma of hot French onion soup (his choice) filled my nostrils. I have a very keen olfactory sense; I think its developed from decades of inhaling urine from well worn floor covering. But there’s just no way I was gonna dig in, especially when I was getting a little antsy about Chris’ welfare. I’m human, I have a good idea how long it takes to have a normal bowel movement. Ironically though, I did get some manners from my parents. They insisted on that. They also had a no drinking until you finish your food, and respect your elders – rule(s). I never could comprehend their circular logic. Anyway, food’s getting cold, and at the same time I’m starting to sweat bullets. To this day I have recurring dreams reminding me of that salty, cold sweat.
At this point I’m laser focused on the path to the restroom, as I was sitting on the side facing that particular direction. I wonder to this day if he sat down first intentionally. Because he did. Like I said, I had manners and I was gonna let him choose. Not let him, as in allow him, but step aside and go with the flow. But he just did it, without so much as a glance in my direction. Cool, I thought, no negotiating trivialities. One less decision for me to make, I’m already feeling like I want to dive back into my bowl. He’s obviously a CEO for a reason. I didn’t even know at the time what a CEO’s daily responsibilities were. I do now. And I see why the good ones deserve the big bucks.
Just when my thoughts were about to run away with me, I grab a whole of them and my mission abruptly appeared before me – I decide, I’m going in there! Something isn’t gonna happen to the WFCA’s CEO on my watch. That’s when he emerged, looking spry as ever, almost galloping. Thank God, I remember thinking. He sits down and says (and I succinctly recall), “I had to take care of business before I ate”. I said ‘okay’, wondering if that was his idea of a mixed-company joke. I mean usually most people do their business sometime after they eat. Who knew, but he was in front of me and he looked good. That’s all that mattered, I wasn’t gonna try to over analyze it at that point. Soup was on.
Of course, the curious george that I am, now knows what type one diabetes is…it’s a horrible, debilitating disease, and I believe he probably died from it’s complications. I speculate only because we never spoke words to each other again. Even though we never talked, I decided I would join his organization. While I had and still have very little respect for retail floor dealers because they don’t respect us, the blue collar men and women. I greatly respected Mr. Davis, and the way he laid his humanity bare in front of me. I was confused, and I wondered what I did to deserve it. Then I got his letter.
It’s your typical boilerplate welcome aboard. yada, yada. But the notes, not footnotes or margin notes. This is what CEOs do. They read between the lines and fill in the blanks and in doing so, set everyone up in their periphery for success. Those notes if you will, we both know what those mean.
Today, The INTERNATIONAL CERTIFIED FLOORING INSTALLERS ASSOCIATION honors people with an award in his memory. Except, you know. He wrote me exactly what his vision was when he was very much on top of his game. Unfortunately, I don’t think he’d be happy with how his legacy has devolved. A lot of years have passed and a lot has happened to me on my journey, but the industry still is, and continues to be entrenched in the status quo. I would know. I’ve been a part of that status quo for 44 years now. The WFCA has done nothing to help solve the floor covering industry’s installation crisis. Except to increase the number of floor installers set up as indentured servants. When they bought out Walker and CFI, they bought and invested in their own puppy mill. The so-called installation crisis is not about the lack of talent, or the quality of the people installing floors, or even training. I’ve always said, floor installation is a common sense trade. There are no trade secrets but there is a lack of common sense throughout the entire industry, and that starts at the top with the elite individuals that don’t respect the very hard-working people that crawl on the ground to fill their pockets. It’s been a long time since I’ve swung this torch, and about time for Hammerin’ Hank to go to work.
I framed his letter posted below some twenty years ago, and until now prominently displayed it on my private office wall, for myself only. As a daily reminder that respect is a two way street. Things have changed drastically in my life and I’ve had many, many set backs, but my mission remains intact. To make sure that Professionalism, Respect, Integrity, Dependability and Education in floor covering installation is not only appreciated but fairly compensated; and well rewarded.
That’s my pledge to Chris, a human being with foresight unmatched in the industry. And if I shall fail, it won’t be for lack of effort. It’ll be because the middlemen have cleverly built an impenetrable wall that simply can’t be chipped away at. At the very least, anyone with hopes and dreams that chooses to make people happy by installing their floors with PRIDE will know what I was told when I first got on my knees.
In 1981 after my first full year in the trade, the Mob in New York looked me right in the eye and informed me what I was in store for. In their typical beat-around-the-bush fashion they said, “This is a nickel and dime business. Is that what you want? Nickels & Dimes?” I didn’t have the words at the time, but what I felt then in the pit of my stomach, I still feel more than ever, right to my very core – I’ll take nickels and dimes before I sell my soul.
