Old

     Yesterday was a solid day of physical work, much of it near floor level, and I'm paying the price.  I can still work with vinyl floor tile* but even a little leaves me with a sore back and aching knees.  We've got the first major piece of the big project in place.

     It turns out the manufacturer did make one tiny little mistake when they refurbished this (slightly) used transmitter: while most of the components didn't require adjustment when moving from the previous channel to ours, one high-power radiofrequency filter is critical and difficult to adjust.  It's a factory job, set once and never touched again.  Or, at least, not touched again unless you put the transmitter on a different channel.

     So they touched it.  While most of the component parts -- about half a semi-truck load -- were dropshipped from the previous owner† to us months ago, a few that needed high-level test equipment and esoteric skills to set up went to the factory instead.  There, they were all retweaked without delay, packed up and put on the shipping dock.  The filter, in a refrigerator-sized crate, never left the dock.  Monday, checking through the big box I thought it was in and finding everything but, I asked and after about an hour, heard back from the guy who found it in a corner, "Oops."  The plan is to get it to us before the installer arrives next week.
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* Vinyl Composition Tile, that is, and not Vinyl Asbestos Tile.  The latter is generally removed by moon-suited specialists when found.  I learned to do tile work after three successive floor-tile crews left bad impressions when we rebuilt the transmitter site; the ones that did very good work were primadonnas, who begged off after having to work around electricians for three days: "We usually have the whole jobsite to ourselves.  This is too difficult!" --On a project proceeding under immense time pressure, rebuilding after a fire while the smoke-damaged equipment in the back room, patched up and mostly functioning, tottered from minor failure to minor failure.  It was difficult for everyone.  The next crew arrived high, stayed high, did adequate work for a day -- and were never seen or heard from again.  The final ones also enjoyed their glue fumes and, from circumstantial evidence, other substances, but they had the job mostly finished when the general contractor escorted them off the site, paid them off at the gate and suggested they and their contraband depart forthwith, because they were, ahem, too under the influence for safety and he would call the police if he saw them again.  Every single crew had delivered a constant stream of complaints.  At that point, I learned how to cut and lay tile: Most people use too much glue even with a serrated trowel to spread it, a hot air gun softens tile for cutting, a big rubber mallet knocks out the trapped air.  Don't get too fancy!  I don't know if I could tile a floor from scratch; it's a big job and there's some critical prep work.  Over the years, I have cut, patched and filled enough floor tile to cover the floor of a large bedroom.  I don't know if all tile crews are flaky, but if you find good ones, don't lose their number!
 
† Technically untrue, since both stations have the same corporate owner.  The transmitter is free, left over from a reshuffling of TV channels in that other city -- free aside from the cost of factory retuning and checking, and field installation with their expert.  This is "free" like the cost of my house, almost, and still cheap as such things go.