The worker I hired to repair my house had just finished a difficult first day on the job. A broken wheel made him an hour late; his ladder( )fell down when he was painting the roof and now his old truck wouldn't start. With each problem he shouted angrily more at himself than at his things. As I drove him home, the man didn't say a word. I tried talking to the man to kill time. I managed to find out that he had come up from Blue Hills in Victoria with his family six months ago to find a job. This was his first job since moving here. I now knew why his price was lower than any other worker I could find in the local newspaper. He really needed the job. His clothes told me as much. On arriving, much to my surprise, he invited me to meet his family. As we walked through his front garden he suddenly stopped at a small tree and placed his hands on it. Then , when he opened the door he completely changed. Instead of his troubled face, there was now a warm smile, hugs for his two children and a kiss for his wife. The following day, I asked him about the tree. "That's my trouble tree," he answered. "Work troubles aren't welcome at home with my wife and children. So I hang them on that tree every night when I come home. Then in the morning I pick them up again." "And you know what else?" he said smiling, "The next morning I find that there aren't as many as I remember hanging up the night before." When did the worker first arrive in this town ?
Today. Last night. Six weeks ago. Six months ago.