It’s a spoken word thing #2 (Pete Barbutti)

• 2 Comments
• Wednesday 30th June 2010

(I imagine you’re wondering what the Grainger logo is doing here. And where is Pete Barbutti? Please be patient; all will be revealed in the fullness of time)

Last Saturday morning, I woke up to discover that our attic fan (known also as a whole-house fan) had ceased to work. I am not the most mechanically-inclined individual (pause here for raucous laughter offstage), but we don’t have a ton of money to piss away on the local fix-it guys unless it’s absolutely necessary. So I heaved my butt up into the stiflingly hot attic and made my way to the eaves in a sweaty, crouched shuffle to figure out what the problem was.

The belt connecting the motor to the fan blades was lying loose on the floor underneath the installation. Further inspection revealed that a large chunk of the side of the metal pulley wheel that guided the belt on the motor had simply broken off and retired after lo, these many years, leaving a large,  jagged shard on the floor.

Even with my lack of knowledge regarding matters in the physical realm, I realized this was a part too specialized to be found at the local Home Depot or Lowe’s. And because it was Saturday, it was unlikely that I would be able to poll local specialty stores – ventilation specialists? Electrical supply? How should I know? – about something as esoteric as a single replacement pulley wheel for our ancient fan.

I recalled a place our former landlord (a particularly handy person) used to go for beyond-the-pale specialized parts; a series of warehouses run by Grainger Industrial Supply. Grainger is staggering in the depth and breadth of their stock. I had their physical catalogue at one point a few years ago; even printed on the thinnest paper, it weighs several pounds, and runs over 3000 pages, if I remember correctly. There’s almost nothing mechanical they don’t carry, most of it available at each mammoth warehouse.

Feeling exceptionally clever, I internetted my way over to their site to find out if there was a Grainger open on the weekend. There’s one warehouse in the entire state of New Jersey that’s open on Saturday. The DIY home repair gods smiled on me; the place is only 15 minutes away from here.

I grabbed the busted pulley and the belt and hightailed it over there.

At Grainger, like most warehouse operations (Pep Boys, AutoZone, etc), the employee/customer interface is a counter on the border between the stuff and the street. Two of the people behind the Grainger counter were speaking with customers, I approached the third, a young woman, and placed the busted pulley on the counter.

I tried to sound knowledgeable. “I’d like to get a replacement for this pulley thing,”

“Got an account?”

“Uh, no.”

“Purchase order?”

“No.”

“Who you work for?”

“I’m self-employed.”

“Well, we’re not open to the public. Just, you know, companies. Sorry.” She pushed the piece back at me. I saw visions of the wife and me spending the weekend sitting in our underwear in front of a fan and a block of ice. I let the desperation seep into my voice.

“Please. I can’t get this anywhere else. It doesn’t say on your website that I have to have an account. Please.”

She looked at me, at the part, and at one of the other people back of the counter, a slightly older guy, who was waiting on someone else but clocking our action, as well. “You know, we get three or four of these every weekend, and I complain, and they don’t do anything about it ” he said, looking at me. “We’re here for the contractors, not the homeowners.” He was beginning to get worked up.

“Man, I’m sorry about this, really, but I have no idea where else I can go. We’re screwed if I can’t get this part. Maybe I can apply for an account right now?”

The guy looked disgusted. Lame-ass homeowners wandering into the joint every weekend, can’t let the goddam contractors pick up their goddam parts in goddam peace. He shook his head slowly, torn, but still (thank heavens) too human to let the rules get in the way. “Get it for him. One-time sale.” He looked at the pulley, then at the belt I brought along, not knowing what I’d need to get replacements for. “You need a belt, too?”

“Yeah.”

He turned to the young woman. “Get him a belt. Check to see if this one’s stretched. If it is, make sure the replacement is the next size under this one, not a bigger one.”

She looked at him with a hand on her hip, I swear. “You think I don’t know that?” She snatched the belt out of his hand, took the wheel, and walked over to a computer, where, muttering and shaking her head,  she compared numbers from the screen to one of the actual catalogues, and began writing down part numbers.

I felt like I’d wandered into the mother temple of Skull & Bones or something. The infidel homeowner that stormed the gates of The Contractor’s Retreat. No account, even! And what’s worse, I couldn’t even pass myself off as a pro; I had to whine like a… a… homeowner.

Which brings me to Pete Barbutti.

Apparently very popular as a comedian in clubs and on TV (Steve Allen, Carson, Leno, Letterman, everyone), I’d never heard of Barbutti (what do I know?) until I got a cassette of “Jazz Humor” Mal Sharpe put together, with this routine, The Hip Mechanic. Larded with a fair amount of beat and musician slang, it’s about how mechanics wanted to appear hip when going to jazz clubs, but manage to give themselves away unconsciously as non-hipsters. The converse, of course, was when musicians went into a garage to buy parts to fix their cars and couldn’t answer the hard questions. That kind of nailed my situation at Grainger. The “pulley wheel,” incidentally, was not that at all; it’s a one-groove sheave. I actually made the repair myself (using the new sheave and the old belt) in about 30 grotesquely sweaty, dusty, dirty, profanity-filled minutes under the eaves. And yes, I straightened up too fast and hit my head on a rafter. Twice.

I’m sending in my application for Grainger account (one bank reference, two trade references) tomorrow, in case you were wondering.

The Hip Mechanic. (2.4 meg, 2:37) From the album “Here’s Pete Barbutti” on VeeJay (VJLP-1133), recorded live at The Slate Bros., Hollywood. You a copyright holder and you got a problem with this? Let me know, I’ll take it down. We don’t mean no bad.

And here’s Barbutti on Carson, doing what I gather was one of his best-known routines, about the ‘ccordine.