Several months ago, I was in Chattanooga for a workshop. I took myself to a local bar that presented itself as safe for a single lady in the early evening hours. It had been raining, and I didn’t feel much like shopping with some of the other ladies on the trip. And truthfully, they hadn’t invited me. I learned about their activities the next morning. At any rate, when I arrived at the well-lit restaurant on the end of a forgettable beige strip mall, I was pleased to ascertain there were three empty barstools, all in a row. I opted for the farthest one against the wall. I settled myself and the bartender was immediately there, ready to provide assistance. I must’ve looked like I meant business. Or maybe I just looked desperate. Either way, I got prompt, friendly service. I was enjoying my beer when an older guy walked up and sat down on the stool next to me. I nodded to him, as etiquette dictates, and he returned a greeting along the lines of, “how do you do?” He had a spiral bound notebook with him, so I immediately made an assumption that he was a local contractor who caught up on the day’s paperwork at the local watering hole. I have seen this in action countless times over the years. Forget scouring the internet and community “speaks out” Facebook pages for reliable contractors: simply…