It's very good, but — the roundabout's wrong. I asked for the wrought iron scrollwork, the double-loop pattern like on Marek's gate, and what I got is these plain half-circles welded on. It looks like a bike rack, Jo. I've got the sketch I gave you right here, I can dig it out if you want, but I'm fairly sure I said "loops" about four times when we talked it over at the yard.
You're misremembering the sketch. I have the yard log from Tuesday the 14th right here, and it clearly says "single-loop welds, heavy gauge." Marek's gate was a different job, three years ago, different supplier. You want double loops now, sure, but that changes the structural integrity of the uprights entirely. I'm not going to torch the whole thing again just because you're second-guessing yourself three weeks later. The welds I put in are perfect. You wanted something sturdy, not a decorative lace doily. Look, I've got to step out for a sec, but don't go tearing that gate down based on a feeling.
The 14th log's your writing, not mine — I never signed off on "single-loop," I said fine to heavy gauge, that's it. And don't tell me Marek's gate is irrelevant, I pointed at a photo of it on my phone right there at the counter, you nodded. Structural integrity, sturdy — that's your word, not something I asked for over pretty. I wanted the double loop because it reads from the road, plain half-circles just vanish. Go on, step out, but this isn't a feeling, it's forty-two hundred quid sitting wrong in my driveway.
Forty-two hundred? You're off by three hundred. It was four thousand nine, and don't start acting like I don't know what the invoice says. I nodded because you were holding that phone up, not because I promised the exact same pattern as Marek's. That photo was blurry, Vic. Half the detail was lost in the glare. You want "pretty" now? Fine. But you're talking about tearing out a perfectly welded frame because you're fixated on a loop I didn't explicitly agree to on paper. The log stands. I'm not paying to cut and re-weld scrap metal you refused to sign off on properly. I've got to go, my shift's over, but don't call me about the gap until you've read the contract.
Four thousand nine, fine, I'll give you that, my head's on the price not the paperwork. But there's no gap, Jo, that's the whole point — the half-circles butt right up, no shadow line, no depth. Marek's has a gap between the loops, that's what catches the light. You built me a solid strip that happens to be curved. And blurry or not, you were the one who said "yeah, like that" — I remember the counter, I remember the coffee going cold. Go on your shift. I'll read the contract line by line tonight.
You're conflating "shadow line" with the gap itself. The gap you want requires a structural spacer that wasn't in the original spec for a residential gate. Saying "yeah, like that" over cold coffee doesn't override the blueprint we actually used. You're fixated on the light catching, but you wanted the heavy gauge for security, not a gallery piece. The half-circles are solid, they're safe, and they're done. Don't pretend the contract didn't allow for standard fabrication when you were staring at the options. I'm not arguing with you about aesthetics anymore. If you want to read the contract and find some loophole about "light catching," be my guest.
It's not aesthetics, Jo, it's the whole reason I paid for wrought scroll over stock rail — the spacer's four bolts and maybe forty quid, don't tell me it's some structural crisis. I wanted security, sure, but I also wanted a gate that doesn't look like the one outside the tyre place on Renner Road. Standard fabrication's exactly what I was trying to avoid, that's why I brought the phone in the first place. Read your own log tonight too. I'll be at the yard Thursday with the sketch, actual paper, and we'll see whose memory holds up.
Four bolts? You're making it sound like a toy, but you're missing the point on the upright load. That spacer shifts the stress right where the weld thins. I'm not talking about a toy, I'm talking about the gate collapsing when the wind hits hard. And Renner Road has a different post depth, Vic, don't drag that comparison in. You can bring a sketch on Thursday, sure. I'll be there, but I'm not rewriting the invoice because you want to change the design after the metal's already cooled. My memory's fine, it's yours that's getting fuzzy on the specific constraints we actually agreed to.
Wind load, right — same wind that hit Marek's for three years and it's still standing, spacer and all, so don't sell me the collapse story. If the post depth's different, fine, tell me the number, I'm not an engineer but I can read a spec sheet same as you. I'm not asking you to eat the whole invoice, I'll split the re-weld labour, call it two hundred on top. But Thursday I'm bringing the sketch and the phone with the photo, glare or not, and we're matching it panel by panel.
Two hundred? You think I'm running a charity? That's not the price of the labour, it's the price of the wasted metal and the time to torch it out. Marek's gate might be standing, but his posts are buried three feet deeper, something you didn't mention when you waved that phone around. If you want the split, you're welcome to it, but don't act like I'm the one being unreasonable. I built exactly what the sheet said. The glare didn't stop me from seeing you nod. Fine, Thursday. But if that sketch doesn't match the dimensions we actually used, don't expect me to just cave because you brought a drawing. I've got a night shift at the foundry starting soon, so make sure you're there early.
Three feet deeper, well then you should've said that at the counter instead of nodding along with the phone in my face. Fine, Thursday, nine sharp, before your shift eats the whole morning. Bring the original spec sheet, actual pages, not what you remember writing on the 14th. I'll bring the sketch and the invoice with the four thousand nine circled in red so we're both looking at the same numbers for once. If the dimensions don't match, I'll eat it. If they do, you're re-welding, spacer and all, and we split the two hundred fair.
Nine sharp. Don't be late. And if you think the invoice has my actual signature circled in red, you're dreaming. I don't sign off on changes verbally without a date stamp, but since you want to play this game, bring the sheet. If the post depth on your paper says three feet, then I owe you an explanation I clearly didn't give. If it says two, like the standard for this yard, then you're paying the full rework cost plus the wasted metal. I'm not splitting labour to cover your confusion. See you Thursday. Don't expect me to wait around if you're five minutes late.
Two feet's the standard here, not three — that's the yard on Cobb Street's rule, not yours, so don't lean on it like gospel. Nine sharp, I'll be there with the sheet, the sketch, and the invoice, and we'll settle it on paper instead of over cold coffee. Five minutes late's not five hours, so don't dramatize it. Go on then, get to your shift. Thursday.
Cobb Street uses two feet, sure, but their soil is sand, Vic. You wanted heavy gauge for clay, that's why we talked about depth in the first place. Don't twist the standard just to make me look bad. If you're going to bring that red-circled invoice, make sure the date matches the log, otherwise it's just a piece of paper with a number on it. And I'm not dramatizing, I'm trying to get you to take this seriously before you wreck the whole frame. Get your head in the game for Thursday. The foundry's waiting, and I'm not standing here all day arguing about inches while you try to find a loophole.