Chapter 24

Chapter 24

With Dong-myeong joining, the demolition speed got faster than I thought.

In barely two days the inside of the house had the non-load-bearing walls that divided the space all torn out, and taking the ceiling board and insulation, it became a gaunt look with only the frame, timber studs, and the concrete slab floor left.

Then the chemical smell that had stabbed the nose had thinned to a level fairly bearable.

"Dong-myeong, please tidy the remaining debris and the floor. I'll go out and look at materials and come."

"Yes. Understood."

Dong-myeong nodded quiet and gripped the broom with a big hand.

Leaving the guy's sturdy back, doing his work quiet without talk, I started the Korando.

The first thing to get was oil-based primer to cover hard the smell molecules that had penetrated the house after demolition, and insulation and plasterboard to stick new flesh, and other sub-materials.

I headed for Bunnings Warehouse, Australia's largest building-material mart.

The moment I stepped into the store, a hollow laugh came without me knowing.

'What neighborhood mart is the size of an aircraft hangar?'

Inside the warehouse store spread without end, every material needed for construction, from timber and paint to every kind of specialist tool, was prepared like a mountain.

But the admiration brief, pulling a cart and turning the shelves, my brow gradually began to crumple.

'Dirty expensive······.'

Checking in order the price tags of large oil-primer tubs, insulation bundles, and power tools like nailers and laser levels, I shook my head.

Buy materials and tools at this consumer price stamped, and it was a situation of barely standing the frame and sucking a finger.

In the end I returned the empty cart to its place and came out of the mart empty-handed.

* * *

The next morning, smoko time after finishing the loading.

Sitting around in the shade with the colleagues, filling the belly with meat pie and cold cola, I casually opened.

"Peter. Do you know a place nearby that sells interior materials or tools cheap? I went to Bunnings yesterday and nearly had a heart stop."

"Why?"

"The Bunnings bastards were complete bandits. Seemed they meant to skin my wallet and raise one more roof on their store. A hammer, what······."

At my idle complaint Peter chewed the pie and gave a short laugh.

"Good heavens, Jeong-su. You didn't go to the mart and look at the price tags ordinary people buy, without a trade account?"

"Trade account? What's that? Go to a large mart and it's cheap originally, isn't it?"

"Oh, this. This is why in Australia information is life. Ordinary people have to buy materials at an amount with 50 percent added even at a wholesale shop."

"What!?"

I yelled, kwaek!

Not one or two coins, 50 to 100 percent?

Crazy?

Peter grinned and winked.

This is that. Welcome to Australia.

"Australia is a thorough license society. Contractors with a formal certificate like carpenter or plumber, or a business number, ABN, can make something called a trade account at a large mart or wholesaler. Pay with that account and you can get a price discount of 30 to 50 percent depending on the item, and credit trade is possible too."

A sound that opened the ears sharp.

"I have no Australian license and no business number. How do you make it?"

"Heh heh heh."

Then the colleagues around burst a laugh.

From the reaction, it doesn't seem an easy thing.

Peter giggled and said.

"If that were easy to make, anyone would have made it."

"Hard?"

"Yeah. Especially working-holiday people like you absolutely can't make it."

Damn. Then of course.

"ABN, a formal business number, of course, and you have to go through a credit check, and have a license in that field. Carpenter, plumber, electrician, like that."

"Really pie in the sky."

Then Peter gave a short laugh, put an arm around my shoulder, and said.

"Don't worry. If it really doesn't work, I'll lend my uncle's plumbing-company number, so put that up when you pay and buy."

"Is that all right?"

"Put it in the uncle's company name and you pay, and the results go up hard, so rather he'll welcome it."

Wow. A really amazing system.

Then Foreman Gary, who had been smoking beside and listening, laughed and cut in.

"Hey. Did you forget what we carry bone-breaking every day? Construction-material volume coming out of the plant and going to retail. If you want, Jeong-su, I'll dig this logistics-network connection and give you materials at plant wholesale price, no need to go through retail."

"Oooh!! Really, foreman!"

"Instead, bring beer well each time."

"Heh heh heh! Understood!"

At the foreman's words the other colleagues, whether excited, began throwing honey tips only locals know, one after another.

"Jeong-su! Tile and small sub-materials, dig the Smithfield industrial side. Go to the factory backyard and B-grade materials called factory seconds are everywhere. Corner chipped an eye-crust, or color slightly off, and fussy contractor bastards don't count them as genuine. Go there and goods they just throw at 10 to 20 percent of normal price."

"Ooh!"

"Right! And expensive machines and tools, no need to buy new. Tomorrow happens to be Thursday, so early morning buy the Trading Post first and dig. Go there and they'll sell a lot of used tools."

"A lot? Why? Isn't it a construction boom?"

A worker called Jack laughed and said.

"They quit because it doesn't fit the aptitude. Even without that work they can eat and live enough."

"Ah."

I understood at once.

Treatment good, so Australia had frequent job changes.

"Ah. That way too."

Foreman Gary grinned and said.

"Go find a new-build site in finish work. You know throwing construction waste at the landfill is dirty expensive?"

"Yes."

Waste that goes over a million won to throw once, depending on the kind.

If something like asbestos comes out, you really have to pay hundreds of millions to process the trash.

"Offcut timber rolling on site, half-left silicone or primer, throwing that is all money to the site chiefs too. Drag your trailer and tell the chief, 'I'll clear that trash'. From the chief's side, waste-disposal cost saved, thank you, and you pick up usable surplus materials fat from there."

From that day I went out on material hunting proper.

Thursday morning on the way to work. I bought the Trading Post newspaper at a stand and all lunch drew lines with a highlighter and made calls, and after work drove the Korando and got an air compressor, nailer, and laser level in fairly good condition at under half price.

If Dong-myeong could do English I would have had Dong-myeong, with time left in the morning, do it, and that was a little regrettable.

'Let's study English! Dong-myeong!'

Friday afternoon I stopped at a bottle shop, bought a box of cold VB, Victoria Bitter, and headed with Peter to the plumbing company his uncle ran.

"Uncle! This friend is the friend I mentioned."

At Peter's warm call a man walked out from the inner office.

The belly bulged out Namsan-size, but the features were a handsome middle-aged Australian man who would have been quite something in his young days.

Peter's father's side all seem handsome.

"Oh! You're the Korean guy who bought that vicious-smelling house whole! I'm Billy Davis."

The uncle laughed hearty, holding his rippling belly, and held out a big hand for a handshake.

"Good to meet you, Mr. Davis. I'm Han Jeong-su."

Then Peter cut in quick.

"In Korea the surname comes in front, the name behind. So Han is the surname and the name is Jeong-su."

"Haha. Right. Jeong-su, I'm counting on you. But just call me Billy."

I casually held out the bribe beer box to the hearty-laughing Davis.

Seeing the cool form of VB, Uncle Billy's mouth corner went up as if it would hang on the ear.

We cracked a can each on the spot and drank in a good mood, talking.

Mostly talk about me.

Unfolding the experience I had gone through on site in the previous life and this demolition plan, Uncle Billy liked me quite a bit.

"Hahaha! Jeong-su, you're a really fun guy. Already that much experience at a young age."

I just grinned.

"Since you're fixing it whole anyway, better to dig one sure line than just calling the number through our nephew and buying."

The uncle gladly handed a card with his plumbing-company ABN number written.

And on the spot he called the manager of the nearby Bunnings Warehouse.

"Hey, Michael! My nephew's friend took a big job this time, so I'll send him that way, look after him sure at my account price, not stingy!"

Not enough to borrow an ABN number with one box of beer at a mere 40 dollars, I even punched the direct hotline of a large-mart manager.

Bunnings found again with Uncle Billy's sturdy backing was a different dimension from when I had come as an ordinary customer a few days ago.

Ordinary people pull carts in the front door, and I drove the car square into the contractor-only zone, the drive-through line, where pickups and trailers went in and out without rest.

From the entrance there, the smell of meat grilling on charcoal was vibrating.

"Hey! You're the Korean guy Mr. Billy mentioned?"

The moment I got out of the car, Manager Michael at the trade-desk counter recognized me first and waved glad.

And Michael held out a hot dog with a just-grilled sausage set on bread, and a hot free coffee.

"First eat this one and start. What you need is on that rack, so pick and I'll load it."

A few days ago I had pulled an empty cart and turned away sighing at expensive price tags, and now I was chewing a sausage the manager handed himself and getting VIP escort.

"For oil primer, that will be better than this."

Michael drove the forklift skilled, told me the information I needed, and set the various sub-materials straight on my trailer.

How convenient it could be.

The payment process was more fantastic.

"I put 35 percent off on Mr. Billy's account. Consumables don't get extra discount, so understand even if it's a shame. And if you need more, don't wander outside, come straight to the trade desk anytime."

An amount that would have made the wallet tremble if bought at retail was cut refreshing, only because of one ABN number and riding the contractor-only line.

I downed the remaining coffee and gave a short laugh.

Well, at this level, isn't an ordinary consumer a mark?

The difference is this much?

As expected, wherever in the world, know the rules and find a hill to lean on, and the body is easy and the wallet sturdy.

That evening I held the strong smell and applied the oil primer.

* * *

Saturday morning I headed for the Smithfield industrial area with Dong-myeong, pulling the rented trailer.

Reaching the entrance of a huge tile factory, a big Australian guard resembling a bulldog, coffee in one hand, walked out slouching from the wire-fenced front post and blocked the front of the Korando.

"What business? Today's a day the factory line is off."

When the guard asked blunt through the window gap, I grinned a good-natured smile and raised a hand.

"G'day, mate! Not here to buy genuine. Came to see factory-seconds tile."

At the word seconds, the guard's furrowed brow slowly loosened.

He pointed inside the factory with the pen he held, as if annoyed, and cocked his head.

"Going to the backyard clearance? Then no need to stop at the front. Go straight along this road, then right at the blue logistics warehouse. Then a place with pallets piled like a mountain will come out. Park the car anywhere there."

"Thank you, mate!"

Passing the barrier the guard opened and entering the factory backyard, indeed as the guard had said, B-grade polished-tile boxes were sprawled like a mountain, literally.

"Wow! Are those all tiles?"

"Right. Defective tiles, at that."

I got out of the car and began scanning the state of the tile boxes with a hawk's eye.

A moment later a person who seemed the manager came out.

"Here to buy tile?"

"Yeah."

"Pick."

"How much is the price?"

The manager answered blunt, a bored face.

"Give 5 dollars."

"Hm? 5 dollars? From what I heard it was cheaper······ hmm. Do I have to go somewhere else?"

The manager's pupils shook.

"······Give 3 dollars."

As expected, trying to skim was right.

Uncle Billy told me, and I use it useful like this.

"Thank you, mate!"

"You know it has to be cash."

"Yeah. I know."

"Call when you've picked all."

The manager turned his body blunt.

Sulking.

"He's sulking."

"He couldn't skim."

"Ah······ 5 dollars was the skimmed price?"

"That's why he's like that. Let's just pick fast."

Tile is usually distributed with several sheets bound hard in one box.

So if even one sheet inside takes a shock, they scrap the whole goods.

That is, even inside a box with a defective sticker, sound tile is packed.

Top Spanish polished tile that at normal price you would have to give a full 30 to 50 dollars a box was rolling on the floor here at an absurd dirt price of only 3 to 5 dollars.

I carefully flipped the boxes one by one, and picked only the ivory top-grade tile bundles with no flaw, or the least.

"Dong-myeong. Load mainly the boxes I set aside."

"Yes."

Dong-myeong, without asking, began lifting the heavy tile boxes I had picked flashy and carrying them to the trailer.

And the last hunting ground Foreman Gary told me.

See only a construction site on the road, and go in holding the beer put in the cooler and hold it out to the site chief and say.

"Any usable leftovers? I can clear them free."

The site chief, seeing the beer I handed, made a full smile, and gladly loaded the offcut materials that had been a headache, and half-tub leftover waterproofing and silicone, on my trailer.

I picked only the materials I needed and brought them home.

* * *

"Wow. Even without eating, the belly seems full."

"Wow. A lot."

In the middle of the living room, the materials and equipment we had run around scraping for a few days were piled like a mountain.

From primer tubs to cover the smell, white plasterboard, thick insulation, a shining compressor and tools, and Spanish tile boxes stacked neat on one side.

A place no different from a ruin until a few days ago now had the look of a fairly plausible construction site.

Dong-myeong, staring blank at the materials, asked sudden.

"Hyung. How much is all this?"

"Price? One moment."

I opened the diary with receipts packed in from my pocket.

"Let's see. First the equipment. Air compressor, nailer, laser-level set picked up in a lot from a person emigrating, seeing the Trading Post newspaper, 350 dollars. Give the proper price and you have to give 800 dollars."

"Ooh! Completely free."

"Heh heh. And new safety boots, leather tool belt, and safety glasses I bought at Bunnings for you to use, 70 dollars. My hand tools, 40 dollars. And a hand-tool set like putty knives and a wide cement trowel to use when we hang plasterboard and do joint compound from tomorrow, 30 dollars. Up to here, matching equipment, 490 dollars total."

I turned one sheet of the receipt bundle.

"Next, five tubs of oil primer. Buy this at retail and it's over 150 dollars a tub, and with the discount I scraped 100 dollars each, 500 dollars. Plasterboard and wall insulation whole volume pulled direct from the logistics warehouse on Foreman Gary's backing, 1,100 dollars. Buy this at retail and this alone would have gone well over 4,000 dollars."

"Wow, jackpot!"

"Jackpot. On top of that reinforcing timber 150 dollars. A urethane-foam gun and a box of foam, 50 dollars. Base materials, foam and all, 1,800 dollars total. Buy this at list and 4,000 to 5,000 dollars would have come out easy."

Dong-myeong nodded and listened close every time a number jumped from my mouth.

"Finish materials. Four 20-kilo tubs of joint compound to erase plasterboard seams, and mesh tape, 100 dollars. Top Spanish ivory polished tile picked up at the Smithfield factory seconds. That's 50 dollars a box, and I beat it to 3 dollars saying the corner went slightly, and swept 50 boxes, 150 dollars. Sub-materials like rollers, brushes, screws, 80 dollars."

I jerked my chin at the boxes set in the corner of the trailer.

"Waterproofing, silicone, offcut flooring got from the new-build site on condition of clearing trash, 0 dollars, so finish materials total 330 dollars. And one box of VB beer offered when borrowing the number from Uncle Billy, 40 dollars. Four boxes of VB beer offered to the new-build site chiefs for collecting surplus materials, 160 dollars. Together 200 dollars."

I shut the diary and looked at Dong-myeong.

"So add it all, equipment 490, base materials 1,800, finish 330, beer 200. Exactly about 2,820 dollars. About 2.25 million won in Korean money."

"Yes? 2,800 dollars?"

Dong-myeong jumped in place as if startled.

The guy's build so big, the concrete slab of the floor seemed to ring, kung.

"Really only that much? We loaded the car and trailer bed until it burst?"

"Yeah. Go to the mart and pick it all naive at the consumer price tag, and at least ten thousand dollars would have broken easy. Thanks to us using our feet, using connections, and passing some beer, we settled what would have been near ten million won at 2.25 million."

Dong-myeong looked back and forth at the materials piled like a mountain and me, then began grinning in a deflated voice.

"Hyung Jeong-su. I thought labor was unconditionally grinding the body and making money······ looking at what you do, labor is done with the head too. Really amazing."

"This floor, originally the one who knows eats it all. Cut a receipt at normal price here, and as much as is left becomes margin."

"Hul······ so that's it."

"Keh keh. Don't use the head and only use the body, and you only get bone-sick and 6 dollars an hour, like you. Got it?"

At my joke with a bone, Dong-myeong scratched the back of his head, awkward.

I stuffed the diary in the pants pocket and lightly gripped the handle of the new putty knife set on the floor.

The grip settling in the hand was not bad.

"Right, shopping ends here. Weapons all filled, so from tomorrow it's the real start. Brace."

"Yes! Just leave it to me!"

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