When I first entered the lumber business in the early ’90s I was a manager trainee at 84 Lumber on the east side of Toledo, Ohio, in a town called Oregon. At the time, it was the epitome of a blue-collar town and in dire need of being put through a heavy-duty industrial rinse cycle.
However, we were blessed with lots of great, down-to-earth small contractors and handyman services who provided us with a brisk walk-in business. Among my favorite regulars was an old gentleman named Ennis.
Ennis was raised on low education and high morals. He had dull clothes, a bright mind, but a “limited” memory.
And he was funny. Really funny.
And best of all he could laugh at himself as well as anyone I’ve ever known, and that’s why the memory of Ennis has stuck with me all these years.
So, there I was at the counter, preparing a garage bid for a customer who was due to come in after his shift at the oil and gas refinery across the way. The moonlighters and DIY homeowners were just starting to come in for a couple sheets of plywood and a couple dozen studs or some 5/4×6 treated decking on the way home from their day jobs. Ennis was among them.
“Hey Neil!” he beamed.
“Hey Ennis! What’s the good word?”
“It’s all good, man. It’s all good.”
Life was always all good for Ennis.
Then with a slightly quizzical look, he says, “Hey Neil, I’m lookin’ for some stuff I think they call ‘cheeseboard.’” He paused.
“Cheeseboard, yeah,” he said as if wanting to hear himself say it again to make sure he’d got it right.
“Cheeseboard…,” I said, my mind racing through several products he could have had in mind.
“Yeah, ‘cheeseboard.’ I think that’s what they call it.”
I was stumped.
“Hmm … What’s it look like?” I asked.
“Well, it’s about four feet wide by eight feet long, and about this thick,” holding his thumb and index finger about a half inch apart.
I realized at this point he’s looking for a sheet good of some sort. Then I start putting the pieces together. Back before there was OSB, there was waferboard. And when waferboard first came out, the folks in the neighborhood used to call it “waffleboard,” mainly because they didn’t know the correct name of the product, and then later reinforced because waferboard’s newer, better, stronger cousin (OSB) had a screened pattern imprinted on it to allow better footing on a sloped roof which gave it a waffle-like appearance.
The name waffleboard kind of made sense when you traced it back. Ennis was probably looking for 7/16 OSB, which he probably knew as “waffleboard.” The missing link was how did cheeseboard relate to waffleboard?
“Cheeseboard, huh?” I said. “You sure you’re not looking for ‘waffleboard?’”
“Yeah! That’s it! Waffleboard!” he laughed as he threw up his arms. “I knew it was some kind of food!”
I joined him in the laughter, wiped my eyes and told him to pull around back so we could load him up.
We were both still laughing when we met in the back loading lot.
From that exchange with Ennis I learned that regardless what you call it, OSB, waffleboard, cheeseboard, or any other colloquialism, the most important thing is to get on the same page as your supplier or customer. Talk their language. Don’t force them to identify the “correct” industry term before you help them.
Life, and business, are easier when you can simply enjoy the process.
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