“Put these on.” Our granite guide hands my husband and me orange vests to match hers.
“What for?” I ask, slipping my arms through.
“Safety,” she says.
“So they can find us in the rubble?”
She doesn’t answer.
On that mortal note, Dan and I enter the granite warehouse to find a slab for our basement bar. The warehouse is bigger than a Wal-Mart and colder than a morgue.
“Do you have these vests in down?” I ask, still trying to bond.
She doesn’t smile. “Stone face,” I whisper to Dan, who elbows me to behave.
We begin walking aisle after aisle of rock slabs the size of states. “What type granite are you looking for?” the humorless guide asks.
I answer with my typically succinct, “Uhhhh.”
“I see.” She looks at her watch. It’s only 9 a.m., but you can tell she wishes it were lunch already.
“She actually knows,” Dan says, reassuringly. “She just doesn’t know she knows.”
The guide gives him a dubious glance.
“Well, none that looks like a cross section of organ meats.”
“No Baltic Brown,” she says, making a note on her clipboard.
“And none that makes me seasick.” I point to a swishy pattern that looks like a cresting wave.
“No movement,” she jots, then looks at me as if I have a character defect.
“Not that I’m against pattern,” I clarify, “just not ones that cause vertigo.”
“That’s too much information, honey,” Dan says, shushing me.
The guide makes another note, which probably says: “blockhead.”
“But I don’t want the stone to look as if it came through the food processor either.”
She makes a note: “air brain.”
“And nothing too common. I don’t want all the neighbors to have it. But nothing too weird, so it won’t affect …” I lower my voice conspiratorially, “… resale.”
“Like anyone here cares about our real estate plans,” Dan says.
She writes: “nutcase.”
After two hours, we drag home six heavy samples and an eye-crossing headache. We arrange the samples from favorite to least favorite.
The showroom faxes the prices. Salespeople don’t give you these prices in the showroom because most granite employees aren’t trained in CPR. We rearrange the samples based on price, which reverses the order based on favorites.
Why? Prices range from $60 to $200 a square foot installed, which increases my liking of Formica.
Marni Jameson is a nationally syndicated columnist who lives in the Denver area. You may contact her through marnijameson.com.
Know your stones
How hard is it to select granite slabs? Hard. Rock hard. But pointers from Gary Kay, owner of Earthquake Granite Fabrications, in Denver, can help:
Feel: Don’t just look at the stone, run your hand over it to feel for pitting.
Homework: Walk a stone yard getting familiar with what’s out there, what you like, and pricing.
Variation: Don’t just pick the type of stone you want, pick the actual slab. Stones in the same vein can vary a lot.
Edge detail: Basic edge cuts include waterfall, bull nose, flat polished and simple rounded. Upgraded edges include hand chiseled, ogee, double ogee and rope. The edge detail can make a huge difference in the final look – and price – and dictate whether your space looks more contemporary (flat polished), masculine (bull nose), European (ogee), or rustic (hand chiseled).
Pattern: Generally, a heavily patterned stone works where other backgrounds are subtle. A quieter stone won’t limit décor as much.
Thickness: A 3-centimeter slab may cost more than a 2-centimeter slab, but working with the thinner slab will cost more in labor if fabricators have to sandwich slabs to get a good thickness.
Price: Most installers want you to choose material before they quote a price for installation, because price often varies depending on your stone.
Biggest mistake: Working with someone who doesn’t understand the properties of stone.
