*disclaimer fiction
I was 18/m and a couple months away from graduating. Unlike some other kids my age who were either starting or finished applying to college, going to college was never really on my mind. The main reason was that my mom didn't make enough to pay for college. I was also mildly autistic. I am not intellectually disabled by any means, only slow with emotional and social development, and a bit clueless in social situations. Classes always bored me, and I did not have the ability to focus on things I was not interested in, so I never thought of it as an option. I was an introvert and didn't have any friends. Never went out on a date.
I did have a plan on how to make a living, though. Over the years, helping around the house and volunteering for people, I got really good at assembling furniture. I eventually picked up furniture repair, refinishing, and re-coating too. I had become pretty damn good and fast at it, saving people a lot of time and money on calling an actual handyman to do the work.
I started posting ads on craigslist and some apps for my furniture assembly/repair services, and started getting some really interesting gigs, enough gigs to make me think about buying a van to bring furniture home at night and get work done faster. My mom was also getting tired of me using her car every night.
Then one day, someone called me up, answering my ad. His name was Karl (Name changed for the story). Karl had a deep mature voice that you could tell was softened up with a reassuring vibe. He explained how he had a couple of vintage french 19th century bedroom "Armoires" and dressers whose paint were starting to peel off, and was wondering if that was something I did, and if I was available that day.
My first thought was that this was way beyond my experience. I had worked on probably close to a hundred furniture pieces by then, but never anything antique or French-made. and was afraid of messing things up. I explained this to him as genuinely as possible, while also hoping he would agree and just hang up. I did not want to take the risk of breaking this man's furniture.
"Yes, they are even older than me. They make me feel like 64 is not that old," he joked.
"I'm not looking for, nor expecting perfect results. I am sure you will do a fine job at it. I won't hold you to damage. Bring your usual tools. can you stop by today?" He asked.
"Yes, I can come by after 6 pm," I said.
He gave me his address and I Hung up, his reassuring voice making me feel like everything will turn out okay. After school, I jumped in my mom's car and headed over to his address. When I arrived at this address, a half hour away, in an area that was mostly woods, I felt a little confused. The road had no houses on it, only mailboxes and dirt roads leading out behind them.
I saw the street number on the mailbox, and turned into the dirt road next to it, feeling a little bit concerned. After slowly driving a few dozen feet further, I noticed a large beautiful house at the end of that road.
"These are just houses. I should have know that," I thought to myself.
Until that point, the only service calls I had gotten were from friends and neighbors and then a couple of suburban homes and apartments in the area. This was my first time driving out like that, and I was pretty amazed at what I was seeing.
This property must have been an easy 10 acres. The dirt driveway was actually gravel and extended nearly 1000 feet down with trees and farm fields, and finally a huge yard with a pretty decent 2 story house that looked pretty luxurious.
