Recently I had some blinds made and fitted in my house. I have been slightly misleading in my title as this ultimately required the input, of not one, but three blind men or “technicians” if description applies better.
The first blind technician, a polite young man probably trainee in the art, came to measure the four windows requiring blinds. I carefully chose the fabric from his booklets and ultimately received a quote.
In quick time I received a phone call saying that a second blind man would come to install my blinds. I found him an affable middle aged gentleman who competently did his job and was dismayed, yet completely solution focussed when, on starting to affix the fourth blind, he found the measurements of that particular window had either been unsuccessfully made or wrongly transmitted to the maker. He was careful not to traduced the polite young trainee or the helpful young woman who liaised between customers and blind tradespeople.
I was very happy with the way he hung the three correctly sized blinds. He had been very conscious of my furniture arrangement when placing the cords or “chains” so that I would be able to very easily access them to open or close the blinds.
Less than a fortnight later a third blind technician arrived with the replacement blind. He seemed very distressed about, not my having to wait for the last blind, or indeed that the error had been made and I had to be available for a second call, but on how inconvenient it was for him to have to come out and hang only one blind as a consequence of someone else’s error.
As he was led to the offending window he asked to see the other blinds that had been hung. He claimed, loud and long, that they had been hung the wrong way around. Is their indeed a “wrong” was to hang a blind? I expressed my complete satisfaction with them and he hung the one remaining blind the way he wanted to and grumpily departed.
In the months since, I have pondered these disparate views about blind hanging. The first hanger had, not only positioned the cords so I could reach them easily, but had hung the blinds so the the opening of them was a more accessible task than the closing. The second hanger had done them the other way around so that the opening was the more awkward task.
Did this match their disparate views of the world? The first man was so positive, even in a slightly difficult situation, and obviously his view was that joining the wider world at the first opportunity was an important factor in the provision of blinds. The second man, apparently disappointed at the offerings of life, finds it necessary to shut out that world as long as possible so we can, instead, admire the beauties of a shuttered environment.
Oh what we can learn from the views of blind men!
I dwell on this thought as I open the blinds at the first opportunity each morning.
Thank you first blind hanger and please go and cheer up your hanging partner.