In your dreams

In many managers' eyes, that in itself would be reason for serious celebration: no two-hour drive or train dependence for me – but then this is the perfect site.

When I arrive, the foreman has opened up and the percolator is slurping away. My leather executive chair swivels 360° so I can see all the latest technology at my disposal and also over the hoarding to the agency across the road, where the models like to hang about outside during shoots.

The wise client
It's a three-year job building three, five-storey offices, one after the other, all exactly the same. No, not offices – hospitals. That's better, more worthy. Luckily, it's a greenfield site in the centre of town. No existing services run through it, no gas mains or high voltage cables to worry about. Not that I've got much to worry about on my perfect site.

The client is a wise client. Each phase begins with the excavations in May, as soon as the dry weather starts, and we're programmed to hand over in April the next year. All the winter work is inside like it damned well should be. There is time between start and finish for a good holiday.

Two of the five storeys are just for services: one for electrics and one for mechanical, so they never have to meet. There's a drawing for everything and schedules for anything there's more than two of. And they're cross-referenced. And they make sense.

The company I work for is superb. No one ever phones, and when the bosses visit, they do their best to praise before levelling any minor criticism. All the buying is done from head office. One phone call and items arrive the next day. Plant requests are met with the words: "If you think we need it, we'll get it in. And we'll get the best just in case." They are at pains to make clear that I don't need to fill in material returns, because that's their job – just stick the tickets in an envelope and send them over.

The QS, who's on site regularly measuring away, is always saying that he wouldn't dream of asking me to measure anything for him, because that's his job. The subcontractors are the friendliest, kindest and funniest people I've ever met. All of them. They know not to disturb me before 10am, during breakfast or after lunch. All their materials are neatly stacked. They clear their rubbish away twice a day, just like their contract says.

A day like every other
Every task the subcontractors do is risk-assessed and has a method statement. I keep the files outside my office so that they can put them straight in. They all know all of the drawings, they all get on with each other, they all work together and follow the main programme to the letter, with just the right number of skilled men for the job.

Of course my secretary does everything else for me. And today was like every other day; everything went exactly according to plan – except for when my boss arrived and informed me that my skills would not be required. Because I didn't do anything. So now it's off to a real site with all the problems that mean I've got a job.