The Man with the Tool Belt


 When I was much younger, I spent several years making a living working as a contractor. I did roofing, general contracting, carpentry, and woodworking. During that time, I definitely met some interesting people.

This one particular guy was a bit unusual. There were several interesting aspects of his character, but the one I think stands out the most was his tool belt. I know there’s nothing special about a contractor wearing a tool belt, but this guy made it unique.

He was a self-proclaimed painter, and it’s possible the paint fumes were to blame for his odd obsession with his tool belt.

In the time I worked with him, I don’t believe I ever saw him with his tool belt off. Of course, being a painter, his tool belt was one of the cheaper models—with the metal hammer loop—so as he walked, the steel hammer handle would jingle, similar to a cowbell you’d find on the milk cow back on the farm.

Come lunchtime, if the crew decided to take a break at the diner or fast-food joint up the street from the job site, in he would straggle behind us, his hammer handle jingling and other tools protruding from the pockets. If the crew decided to pull up some buckets and sit around munching on a boxed lunch, the tool belts would hit the floor before settling down on the buckets—all of the tool belts other than you-know-who’s. The hammer remained swinging alongside the bucket.

First thing in the morning, he would pull into the job site, hop out of his truck with his trusty tool belt already wrapped firmly around his waist. I often wondered how many nails, screws, and paint brushes could be found in the crevices of his truck seat.

To this day, I often wonder if he didn’t wear a regular belt and if his tool belt kept his pants from falling down. I have no other possible explanation for this bizarre behavior.

I’m not sure what happened to tool-belt guy after our paths parted. I wonder if somewhere he is still walking around wearing his tool belt—with the hammer still jingling and nails and screws leaving a trail like breadcrumbs for some poor soul destined for a flat tire.

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