Chapter 14: You get what you pay for.

Little by little by little by little…

Once the portals were all up, I thought it would be clear sailing, attaching all the other components: The C channel (rafters), the top hat (battens for the roof and wall sheeting) and the steel posts for the awning – cut to size as they were, but despite the supplier’s assurances, nothing seemed to be the right size. Not one single thing. If you need to cut something, you’re doing it wrong, Kate, went around and around in my head. I said it out loud to Josh and he went back to the manual, gripping the booklet so tightly it took on a new shape.

The biggest problem with the booklet (that we’d come to hate), was that there were no technical drawings or measurements – it was full of generic close-up photographs of other sheds, with no reference to ours. No Ikea drawings with cute little characters kneeling on the floor, pencils behind their ears. No steps or order of assembly, just a load of photos showing bits of steel meeting up to other bits of steel. Josh rang the suppliers and emailed them on our behalf, questioning, probing, complaining, getting nowhere. The piles of steel and iron lay on the ground, embedding themselves in the dirt. I figured: Josh built his own house, pretty much all on his own. If he couldn’t work it out, there was something seriously wrong. Either that or the shed we’d purchased was ‘unique’ and needed specialist help.

We packed the car, tied down the tents and went back to Brisbane. I rang the shed supplier and asked to speak to the boss. Something in my tone must have either made him feel sorry for me, or afraid because he offered a solution, and gave me the number of a guy named John who used to work for him, erecting his sheds. John had managed hundreds of erections, the boss explained in a comforting way, and never had any complaints – I only had to read the testimonials section on the website.

I had a vision of an endorsement on their website in Comic Sans font:

 ‘We can’t complain about John’s erection.’

Sally and Steve Pratt, Browns Plains.

I rang John and he agreed to come down for one day, to get us on track. Then he said it would cost us $800 plus travel time and fuel. I mumbled ‘Great’ and said I would provide lunch. John did help unravel the puzzle, but I noticed he didn’t refer to the manual at all and there was PLENTY of cutting going on. At least he got us to a point where Josh could take over, and for that, he was worth every cent.

I’ve always found the saying: ‘You get what you pay for’ annoying. (As in, der!) During the shed assemble, I said it a lot. We’d gone through six different ‘erectors’, not including Josh who ended up having to reinforce the frame by welding a cross section on one end, and if not for the help of friends and family we would have spent a lot more on labour. Lifting roller doors up into place is a test of any friendship, as is lying on a roof in 35-degree heat and scribing (cutting in a curly, fancy way) metal ridge capping to fit the corrugated sheets. If I have any advice to give on the topic of shed selection, it would be to ask a builder first, what kind of steel framed shed they would build for themselves. I think the community build was a great experience but imagine how much better it could have been with a quality product.

When the roof finally went on, we held a party and celebrated the end of our association with the shed supplier by setting fire to their manual in the new dam. The manual’s ashes are in there still, submerged in the mud, covered now by water, never to be read again.

One wall to go! Note extra bracing on gable end and wall. She’s not going anywhere.