Along the Old Tiburon Trail, where I often atone for my sins with a vigorous 8-mile ruck and film dirt-cheap commercials for Pure Talk on my iPhone, there’s a charming old gazebo where I sometimes pause to rest in the shade, gaze across the bay toward The Golden Gate Bridge, and contemplate the meaning of life. It’s called The Little Lori Gazebo, and it was built by a woman named Barbara Meislin, known to the locals as The Lady in Purple, since that’s the only color she ever wears. Barbara even lived in a purple house, until it burned down in 2009. Anyway, the gazebo was built as a memorial to her daughter, Lori, who died very young, and I’m not the only one to enjoy its shady charm over the years. I’ve noticed however, that’s it’s been in need of repair, and last week, as I was filming one of those dirt-cheap commercials for affordable wireless while rucking along the Old Tiburon Trail, I noticed that the long overdue refurbishments had finally begun. I also met the contractor who was hired to do the work. “Holy crap! It’s you!” Since there was no one else around, and because the man was looking directly at me, I quickly deduced that I was the object of his query. “You are correct,” I said. “It’s definitely me.” The man struck me as delighted. Perhaps, a bit too delighted. “This might sound a little creepy,” he said, “but I took this job because of you." “You’re painting a gazebo because of me? Why?” “I’m not just painting it,” he said. “I’m rebuilding everything below the roof.” “Because of me?” I asked. “I don’t understand.” “I don’t normally bid on projects this small, but I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time. And I’ve seen those ads you do while hiking along this trail. I figured I might run into you during the work, so I bid on the gig. And now, here you are! “You’re right,” I said. “That does sound a little creepy.” The man laughed and walked toward me, hand out-stretched, as I unclipped the hip-strap on my ruck, just in case I had to drop the 60lbs on my back and run away. I’ve had some unusual encounters over the years and learned that running away is often the best option. “Name’s Mike Sanguinetti,” he said. “My daughter and I have seen every episode of Dirty Jobs, and we love everything you do. I run a Painting and Construction Company here in town.” The logo on his tee-shirt confirmed the claim. And the presence of a daughter was comforting. I relaxed. “Mike Rowe,” I said. “Nice to meet you.” We shook hands and Mike Sanguinetti said, “You know, I saw you in Vegas last year at SEMA, when you were auctioning off that truck for your foundation. I stood in line to meet you, but you had to go before I got a chance to hello. I waited around for hours.” “You’re making it creepy again,” I said. Mike laughed. “I just wanted a chance to tell you, in person, what Dirty Jobs meant to my daughter and me. Best father/daughter bonding time ever. And I really love what you’re doing for the trades. Means the world to us independent contractors.” Like a lot of guys in the trades today, Mike Sanguinetti has a front row seat to the skills gap. He runs a small operation, and deals with all the challenges I talk about at mikeroweWORKS everyday. We talked about those challenges for a few minutes, along with the importance of a decent work ethic, and the extraordinary opportunities for those who would simply master a skill that’s in demand. “Maxine won’t believe this,” he said. “She thinks I’m crazy for believing we’d run into each other.” “Maxine is your daughter?” I asked. “Yeah. She’s in high school now, plays varsity volleyball. But we still watch Dirty Jobs whenever it’s on. It’s kind of our thing, you know?” “That’s nice,” I said. “Can I send her a video?” “Oh my God,” said Mike. “She won’t believe it.” Mike handed me his phone, I recorded a personal message to Maxine, and that was that. Mike thanked me for being the same guy he knew from the TV, (or at least, for appearing to be,) and I thanked him for going so far out of his way to say thanks. “Seriously,” I said. “On a percentage basis, how much did the possibility of meeting me factor into your decision to bid on this gazebo job?” “At least 95%. Maybe more.” “Well, congratulations,” I said. “You’ve made it creepy again!” Mike laughed and went back to work, as I walked off to film another commercial for affordable wireless, thinking all the while about the good fortune that allowed for two Mike’s with wildly different skill sets, to work on the same trail. I had to travel the next couple days, but when I threw on the ruck three days later for another 8 miles of penance, I walked by the gazebo and was blown away by its transformation, and the speed with which the work had been completed. One guy, armed with the necessary skills and a work truck filled with the necessary tools was all it had taken to restore Little Lori’s Gazebo to its former glory. I’ve attached a photo, along with a shameless plug for Sanguinetti’s Painting and Construction. He does good work. instagram.com/p/Dd7Xv8ZhI4t/ Happy Trails, Mike! (You too, Maxine.) PS. The Lady in Purple, Barbara Meislin, is now 91, and by all accounts, delighted by Sanguinetti's work. Like young Maxine, Barbara has excellent taste.