Customer wanted a coffee table by Friday. It is Wednesday. The walnut slab is not even dry yet.
Explained how wood movement works. How the slab will crack and warp if I rush it. She did not want to hear it.
Gave her a referral to the furniture store down the road. Some jobs are not worth taking.
I am going to be honest: I almost took this job anyway. Almost talked myself into it. Maybe if I use stabilizers. Maybe if I put it together with really generous hardware that allows for movement. Maybe if I explain the risks and get her to sign a waiver…
All of that is cope. The real answer is no.
The Request
She came in Tuesday afternoon. Nice person, clearly had money to spend, had seen some of my work on Instagram. Wanted a live-edge coffee table in walnut for her newly renovated living room. The renovation is done, the furniture is being delivered Saturday, and she suddenly realized she does not have a coffee table.
Could I help?
I showed her my slab inventory. Found a beautiful piece of claro walnut, about 48 inches long and 24 inches wide, with a gorgeous natural edge and some curl in the grain. She loved it. Price was agreeable. She pulled out her checkbook.
Then I checked the moisture meter.
18 percent.
Why 18 Percent Is a Problem
For those who do not obsess over lumber moisture content, here is the quick version: wood needs to be in equilibrium with its environment before you build with it. In most homes, especially ones with heating and air conditioning, that equilibrium is around 6-8% moisture content. A piece at 18% has almost three times as much water in it as it should.
What happens when you build with wet wood? The water evaporates over the following weeks and months. As it does, the wood shrinks. Not evenly – it shrinks more across the grain than along it. That means a flat slab becomes a curved slab. Joinery that was tight becomes loose. Glue joints fail. Finishes crack.
With a slab this thick, at 18% moisture, I am looking at potential checking (cracks that open up as the wood dries) and significant cupping. The table might look fine in her living room for a month. By month three, it will start to warp. By month six, it might have a crack running through it.
The Conversation
I explained all of this. Showed her the moisture meter. Pulled up some photos on my phone of what happens when you rush dried wood – a gorgeous cherry dining table that a colleague built too wet, now with a three-inch crack down the center.
Can you just seal it really well?
No. Finish slows moisture loss; it does not stop it. The wood is going to dry whether I want it to or not.
What about putting it in your kiln?
I do not have a kiln. Even if I did, kiln-drying a slab this thick in two days would basically cook it. You would get surface checks everywhere as the outside dries faster than the inside.
Can you do anything?
I can sell you a slab that is ready to go. I have some ash that has been acclimating for six months, stable at 7%. We could do an ash coffee table by Friday. But not walnut.
She did not want ash. She wanted walnut. Specifically, that piece of walnut she had already fallen in love with.
The Decision
Here is where twenty years of experience talked me down from the ledge.
If I build this table, one of three things happens. Best case: the wood barely moves, the table survives, she is happy, I got lucky. Okay case: the table warps slightly, she complains, I spend hours trying to fix it or negotiate a partial refund. Worst case: the table cracks, she is furious, she leaves negative reviews everywhere, I am out the labor and materials.
Two out of three scenarios are bad for me. And the best case still has me holding my breath for six months waiting to see if something goes wrong.
Not worth it.
The Referral
I gave her the name of a furniture store about twenty minutes away. They stock pre-made live-edge tables in various sizes. They are not custom, but they are real wood, properly dried, and they can deliver by Friday. She was not thrilled, but she was not angry either.
What about that walnut slab?
I told her it will be ready in about three months. If she still wants a custom table then, we can talk. She took my card.
Maybe she will call back. Maybe she will not. Either way, I am not going to lie awake worrying about a table that is going to self-destruct in her living room.
The Lesson
When I was younger, I took every job. Any job. Tight deadlines, unreasonable requests, materials I knew were not ready – I said yes to all of it because I needed the money and the experience.
Now I am older. My reputation is worth more than any single commission. One cracked table, one warped tabletop, one unhappy customer with a megaphone on social media – that costs more than the profit margin on a hundred good jobs.
Some jobs are not worth taking. This was one of them.
The walnut slab is back in my inventory, stickered and waiting. In three months, it will make someone a beautiful coffee table. Just not this someone. Not this week.
