Forget about perfection - just get the job done

I'm mad. I mean, who wouldn't be? After paying more than the going rate to have my house painted, I discovered upon returning home from work that the "handymen" had messed up.

Now, some would accuse me of being difficult. At least my husband did. You see, we live in a neighborhood where the number of unemployed is quite high. Among them are four men who live a few houses away. Three of them are brothers, the fourth a cousin. Two are married with children. They manage to secure continual employment doing odd jobs, fixing doors, painting houses or cleaning clogged drains.

My husband always hires these men to do things, like when the faucet leaks, or a bulb needs changing. Of course my husband can fix them himself, but he just wants to find a reason to give money to those people and allow them to save face.

The recent problem started when my eldest daughter wanted her room painted green while her sister wanted hers blue. We decided that the ceilings would remain white, to give the rooms a more spacious appearance than they actually are (as I had read in design and architecture magazines).

As I had to leave for the office, I told my servant to tell our neighborhood handymen to make sure the different colors did not run into each other. I told her to tell them to use a piece of iron sheeting the size of a wide ruler when painting the ceiling-wall border to make sure the green or blue paint did not run into the white ceiling.

Imagine my disappointment when I returned home to see a veritable mosaic on the ceilings.

The next morning I asked my servant if she had delivered my message.

"I did," she said, defensively.

"Then, why this mess?" I asked, unable to take in what I saw.

"They said it was too difficult and that it would take longer if they had to use the ruler like you asked them," she said.

I was truly, truly disappointed. And I made sure my husband knew how I felt. After all, he is the one who insists on hiring them.

"What do you expect? They are not professional construction workers. I anticipate things like this," my husband said.

"I know. The point is, I told them how to do it right. And it was easy," I insisted.

Indeed, it is easy. When I was living in the U.S., a friend who owned a construction company taught me different things, including how to paint. I used to paint my house myself, drawing satisfaction from a job well done, however trivial it may seem.

Sure, I have been accused of being a perfectionist. So what? I mean, why not make things perfect if we can afford to? I learned this during a visit to a car company in Japan. We were given a copy of the company's book on art and on the first page was the company's motto: If a thing is not beautiful it ought not to exist.

Now, one may argue that it sounds cruel. But I see it differently. I believe the motto simply wants to encourage the company's employees to always do their best and to take pride in what they do.

After the painting debacle, I am somewhat comforted by the fact that my neighbors are typical Indonesians. At the office, I have to rinse the plate, spoon and fork and glass in the dining room before using them because most of the time they are not clean.

I'm not exaggerating: sometimes a piece of chili is still there, not to mention the slippery texture from all the fat and cooking oil from previous use.

My colleagues argue that we cannot blame the office boys who do the dishes because they are poorly paid. So, in their eyes, a low salary is an excuse for sloppiness and being slapdash.

Forget about being a perfectionist: Whatever happened to self- satisfaction and taking pride in a job well done? That's something we still need to learn.

-- Sheila Putri