by Karen Topakian
Charlie Asadorian, my maternal grandfather and an Armenian immigrant businessman, often thought people who worked on his house might try to cheat him. Maybe because he spoke with an accent, maybe because he had experienced dishonest business people first hand. No matter how good the deal, he was wary. To protect himself, he suspected them first, assuming they were swindlers.
“What do you think of the new wall?” asked my father to my maternal grandfather while they surveyed the progress on the low stonewall separating my parent’s house from their neighbor’s.
“It looks good so far. I hope he knows what he’s doing,” declared my grandfather about the mason.
“John said he does good work,” responded my father referring to a well-respected mutual friend.
“I hope he didn’t charge you too much,” stated my grandfather who always sought a top-rate job at a cut-rate cost. “Are you sure he’s not a swindler?”
My father raised his eyebrows. “I hope not.”
Several months later, my father noticed some serious problems with the wall and mentioned it during a Friday night dinner with my grandparents.
“I have to find somebody else to fix that wall. Several big stones came loose and fell on the ground. The guy that did the work won’t answer my calls.”
“I thought he might be a swindler,” acknowledged my grandfather regretfully, disappointed that he turned out to be right.
“You always think you’re going to get cheated,” accused my grandmother.
On another occasion during a Sunday afternoon dinner with my grandparent’s, my mother discussed their newest home improvement project.
“Dad, our new bathroom is almost finished,” declared my mother. “You’ll have to stop by and see it.”
“Where did you find the guy?” asked my grandfather to my father.
“He’s a customer at Mal’s Market,” replied my father while cutting up a piece of chicken.
“How do you know he’s any good?” asked my grandfather who often relied on my father’s recommendations of good workers.
“Last week, I heard you cursing in the garage about the rakes, clippers and bushel baskets piled up on the floor,” said my grandmother holding a serving spoon full of pilaf. ”Why don’t you hire him to build the shed you want? What are you waiting for?”
“I’m not ready yet. I want to make sure this guy’s not a swindler,” said my grandfather laughing.