I remember what our head foreman told us about his window installer, Henry Syl.

Impatient.

Always misunderstanding the work order.

But when he is on, he is one of the best in the business...at least, in this area of the bluffs.

What I wouldn't give to have a guy from the cities bring his crew down here...but alas, here I am, on hold waiting for Henry. William had an appointment of his own to keep, meeting with the equipment specialists to go over a purchase order as well as tour the grounds. Before the call, I made sure to send my exact plans for the windows over to Henry. My suspicions were either he was a slow reader, or the plans ended up in his spam filter again. Still, I have to credit whoever chose their hold music. Nothing stiff and corporate; just some light samba against the sound of ocean waves.

*click*

"Alright, Mr. Berget, you still with me?" Henry asked. His voice startled me, both from him returning so quickly, and how dramatically different his accent was. Was it Bostonian?

"Right here; did you find my request?" I inquired.

"I did. Took me a second, though; darn thing ended up in my spam folder," he replied sheepishly, confirming my suspicions. "Plans look solid, design choices are straightforward. Yeah, I got a crew of guys that can get this done pretty quick. You wanna hear how it'll go or do you want to talk price first?"

"Lets start with the plan," I negotiated, "and we'll discuss price later."

"Alright, I'm sending you a summary of the plan; you'll get a copy of that with your quote also," Henry instructed. A few seconds later, the email with the plans came through. "We'll start with the large window in the back. I want to block out a full day with our guys to make sure that this is installed properly; given the size and the additional work you are planning on doing with that piece, I don't want to risk any screwups. Next, I'll split my team into two, one to hit the main windows, one to hit the privacy windows where you want'em..."

Henry continued on for a while as I absentmindedly skimmed through his notes. 'Glass block' caught my eye right away. "I hate to interrupt," I said, completely unashamed of the interruption, "but I noticed on here that you're recommending glass block instead of privacy windows?"

"Oh yeah," Henry remarked, transitioning fluidly to the next topic without a hiccup, "just something I thought you'd want to consider. The storage areas probably don't need a pane of glass in them, but glass block will still let natural light in. Plus, considering most of your storage is on the first floor and cellar, it will add extra security. Much harder for someone to kick in glass block than a pane of glass, right?"

Oh, Henry; if only you knew the kinds of people I work with on a regular basis...

"Sounds like a good recommendation. How will this all pay out?"

"You'll get a breakdown of how much everything will cost once the call is gone, but I'm estimating about thirty grand," Henry noted. "Most of that cost is toward the specialty installation of the large window, which includes the day's labor and pre-installation insurance on the window panes that will be installed. That way, if anything happens during the process, you won't owe a dime. The rest of the cost is mostly due to the number of windows and the time it will take to do them, though you are saving about four or five grand doing the glass block; cheaper, sturdier material that will last you a while and installation will take no time at all."

I stroked my beard, thinking about the cost. As a whole, it would be a drop in the bucket compared to the earnings I usually make; however, I also want to ensure that we are getting a fair price. "Well even with that cost reduction, I wonder if I could get a better deal elsewhere."

"You might, but you won't get as good a crew and it will definitely take more time," Henry confidently stated. "You want it done right, you go through me. No half-asses on this crew."

I paused for a moment, taken aback by the sudden surge of confidence. Then I laughed, replying, "I like your enthusiasm, Henry. Send over the quote and I will get back to you tomorrow. I knew I had the right man for the job after a glowing recommendation from our foreman."

"You're going with Eriksson's, right?" Henry asked with curiosity. "Good crew; love workin' with those guys. Tell you what, since you got a recommendation from them, I'll knock three grand off the quote. Family and friends discount, y'know?"

"Well that is much appreciated," I commented politely. "It is rare to find someone enthusiastic about this whole process, and you made everything as clear as possible so far. I only hope that our potential work in the future will be just as transparent. I am not someone so easily swayed by expert jargon."

"Wouldn't even think it. Expect the quote in the next hour, and I'll hear from you tomorrow, alright?"

"Until then," I concluded, ending the call. I removed the headset and placed it on the desk next to the keyboard, taking in a deep sigh. Twenty-seven thousand to have all that work done...sure, it was in the budget, but it was still one of the largest expenses we have on the operation. Perhaps I should make a few more calls...

---

This match of ours is one that is based heavily on opposites, Barney.

...Were you not aware? Well let me explain.

We are both men who take pride in the kind of people that we are. You are content with being a man who enjoys the simpler things; a preference to drinks that are "gritty" and "give the liver a nice punch." And while I too enjoy those, I also find that you can have a similar experience with finer libations; mead, for instance, can give you that delightful kick that you want without making the drinker seem overly pretentious. Hell, I have seen many a trailer park rockstar knock back several plastic cups of mead at renaissance fairs. They are, however, the training wheels of the wine world, and what separates wine from other liquors is that while they may not give you that solid hit from the get go, they bide their time, waiting for the right moment to strike. And when that wine hits, it is like being struck in the neck with a lightning bolt; an overwhelming sense of realization that indeed, you did finish off that bottle without realizing it.

I mean, why else would they call it a Tour de Franzia?

While I am not overly fond of these types of comparisons, our attire also very much differs. You are fine wearing whatever is lying around. As am I! It is wonderful to have a day where I do not have to prune and peacock. But sometimes I just enjoy looking nice, smelling fresh, and being dressed to impress in my three-piece suit. However, a suit simply will not do in the ring. Underneath the threads is a warrior ready to strike at a moment's notice.

But most importantly, we represent the two primal forces; destruction and creation. You are here to try and demolish me, to end my time in this tournament with as much violence as you can inflict while within the confines of rules. Meanwhile, I am the hand of creation, building my legacy and using you as a foundation for the house I am about to build. After all, what greater ground is there to build on than an established name in the company? See, creation implies progress. I am only here in my second match, and my stock continues to rise. Meanwhile, you are just now returning into this tournament to destroy and reclaim the ground you have lost. And it is here where I have a headstart.

I enjoy your straightforward nature. With you, there is no bullshit. No subtlety. No nuance. You're just a man with one plan; beat up the other guy worse than he can do to me. It is honestly refreshing. Most would try and be clever with wordplay, saying things like "I'm going to light up your head like a birthday cake." The one thing I will say, however, is that a boomerang is most effective on the return, not on the throw. And it is certainly a perfect representation of the kind of person you are; the goal is in sight, and you charge forward as far as you can, knowing that the forces of nature will inevitably pull you back to your starting position so you can try all over again. The problem is, in this analogy, I am that primal force. It would be entertaining to say that I will strike you so hard with windmill fists to your face that you will not wake up for the next...say, six hours, but I too do not mind utilizing bluntness here either. Any amount of violence you think you will be able to inflict on me is not going to be enough. Nor will it ever be enough. 

I will fill you in on a little secret. After Chardonnay won the contender match for the tag belts, I decided to scout the tag title match. It should make sense; after all, it was one of three teams that we would have to face, why wouldn't I want more information? And what drew my attention immediately was when you chose to abandon the main goal of the match and brawl in the audience, leaving your partner to contend with three others also reaching for belts. Your goal priority is off-base, Green. Even here, where you claim you are here to win it all, you still focus on the violence you want to inflict. Violence is already a part of this tournament.

You see the match and anticipate a battle.

I see the tournament and anticipate a war.

We are not the same.

My creation will continue as scheduled. Your destruction will only destroy you.

You do not want a war with The Lord of the Vine.