The Federal Association of Pallet Manufacturers is also feeling the effects of the war and the crisis. Anyone who produces pallets needs special nails, which unfortunately are made in Russia and are no longer supplied due to the sanctions. There is a risk of a pallet shortage and thus a shortage of goods of the direst proportions.
Before the age of waste such a mishap would not have happened. Because nails used to be scarce, people used this resource with care. A defect was prevented by repairing and reusing the parts. Even the smallest nail was valued, no matter how rusty and bent it was.
If old boards were lying around in the yard, then of course people grabbed the pliers and used them to pull the nails out of the rotten wood. Bit by bit, bucket by bucket. Accompanied by occasional curses, the nails were then painstakingly knocked straight again with a hammer.
If the nails were running out anyway, then with a heavy heart some were bought in the general store. They were stored on a shelf in the back corner, they came in different sizes. The penny nails were very large and cost a penny each. The small nails were sold by weight, and a farmer also bought saupech for slaughtering and various calf ropes, and a pack of toothache powder couldn’t hurt either.
The general store evokes memories that go back to an old neighbor, a Häuslmo, as the smallholders were called. He quickly got angry and then blew up like the HB male in the commercial. Once, in the middle of the prairie, the engine of his moped made a bubbling sound, died and wouldn’t start again. Trembling with anger, the good man hurried home, returned with an ax and chopped the snuff to bits. The village boys then gathered all the parts together, of course the metal, the screws and the leather seat were put to further use.
Not only the war is an expression of the irrationality of this world, but also the wastefulness. Unfortunately, even the frugal are not always rewarded. A reader told us about the pastor who repaired old nails while banging the hammer on his thumb with a flourish. Bowed down by the pain, he heard an altar boy sigh: “Hey, Father, now you should be allowed to swear!”