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Organization
Chris Hannas
I started The Organization Organization with a single client, a surly old man named Paul whose sole habits appeared to be collecting things nobody would ever want and spending time in his hot tub. The 54 jets of swirling steamy water made me jealous whenever I was on the fourth back-straining trip of clearing things from his house on a frigid January afternoon, but as for the rest of it, if it were my home I gladly would have set a match, walked a safe distance away and gleefully watched the whole place burn to the damn ground.
He paid me well, which was something I really needed from a first client because I was too chicken to ask for much. I was in between jobs and really not sure about what to do with my time, so an online ad asking for someone to help simplify their life caught my attention. He said the price was “to be discussed.” I went into our first meeting at his house (held on the back deck because that was the only place clear enough we could both sit down at the same time) with the idea of seeking $10 per hour for my labor. After all, who was I? What did I know? In my head, nothing and nothing, and so I couldn’t ask for much in return. Paul thankfully put his number on the table first, $1,500 for the one week he thought the job would take. I ended up being there for four months.
Paul’s kindness immediately struck me. It wasn’t the generous payments, but rather his gentle way of dealing with people, both me and those from his past. He knew the origin of every one of the thousands of dusty objects in his house, or at least, the person he got them from. That’s one reason why the job dragged on for as long as it did. Picking up an item launched Paul into a 20-minute story about a guy named Skid he met at a flee market in Alameda, California in the summer of 1972. There were a thousand Skids, and by the time I had Paul’s house spotless I wished I had the chance to meet them all.