He did it again. And again.

The building inspector showed up early. He ran a gloved finger over a seam. “Pro2Go?” he asked.

He looked at the Pro2Go strips left in his pouch. Each one represented ten seconds saved. Ten frustrations avoided. Ten chances to look up from the dirt and see the building, not the bolt.

“That’s… cheating,” Jay whispered.

The old way of doing things was a ballet of frustration: carry a heavy impact driver, a box of loose bolts, a separate box of washers, and a separate box of nuts. You’d climb a ladder with your knees pinching a driver, a bolt in your teeth, and a prayer in your heart. You’d drop the washer. It would roll into the mud. You’d strip the cheap threads. You’d curse. The sun would rise higher, and the deadline would get closer.

He stood over a massive shipment of pre-fabricated steel beams, each one a $4,000 mistake waiting to happen. The spec called for a specific kind of fastener: the Pro2Go. But the bean counters in the front office had substituted a cheaper, “comparable” brand.

And Mike? He just smiled, slipping a fresh strip into his driver. He knew the truth. In a world that runs on speed and breaks on fragility, the fastest fastener isn't the one that drives the quickest. It’s the one you only have to drive once.