It was a hard choice.
My trophy wife was purring in my right ear about how much fun we would have in the South of France all winter. Shawn was puling on my left ear lobe explaining the quality of his ice shield and that I would never feel I had made a gaff if I chose GAF timberline that is.
Well since my Dad, rest his soul, had been a roofing contractor of superior reputation I decided to stay home and just see if Shawn really could deliver an EPIC experience, I mean Exterior. He did.
When I was a kid working for my mean old man, he made ME carry those heavy damn shingles up a ladder to load the roof. He made me cover the roof with dirty old tar paper felt before we installed the shingles. It never laid out straight and always rippled and tore. Then he made me drive all the nails with a shingle hatchet. It was so terrible I went to college to escape such a life. Perhaps the meanest cut of all was my old man said that was his plan while he was abusing his only son.
So first day Shawn’s crew shows up in their shinny new trucks and proceeded to combine into a well oiled machine of efficiency. Shawn meantime, as opposed to my mean old man, stands around something like an orchestra conductor with a baton (or was it a magic wand) overseeing just in time delivery of each item his efficient crew would need just before they would need it.
I was pissed. No nasty tar paper felt….High techno ICE and water shield GLUED down with no ripples just permanent protection. Synthetic underlayment followed…clean and so high tech. Next came the shingles. Now I am really Pissed. Up they came on a CONVEYOR without the slightest lift or effort on the executive crew of pampered workers. I was aghast…not one of these wusses even looked like they even knew what a roofing hatchet looked like. OH no now they proceeded to take out their super soft rubber cushions and sat down with something that looked like an air pistol which with the lightest touch delivered each needed nail at just the right place, with just the slightest effort. Now I am SUPER PISSED.
My EPIC experience with Shawn was the worst of my life. Imagine finding out that Shawn loves his crew more than my child abusing NASTY OLD DEAD STEPFATHER loved me. Now I remember that too! They call it recovered memories and they are all Shawn’s fault.
All I can say is if you grew up in an old time construction company and know how things used to be, listen to your trophy wife and go to the South of France. Avoid that Shawn Bellis and his crew no matter how low his modern methods have brought down the price. You too may endure the pain of recovered memories of how badly YOU were abused as a child.