1/12/13 11:28 PM
I spend a lot of time on construction sites watching buildings and other modern architectural structures being fabricated. I’m not a construction worker myself but I oversee a certain element of the business (don’t mean to be vague but...don’t want any lawyers coming after me...signed confidentiality agreements and all), that puts me around the workers all day.
Guns. Sports. Women. Those are the topics of conversation most days among the workers. They smoke and talk about beer like reverends talk about religion. All with lots of off-color jokes and good-natured ribbing. I walk about this jovial madness, and I think of MASH, that line about acting crazy to keep from going insane. I tweet that quote during lunch, and I bet most of the guys would laugh their asses off about such a sissy-sounding thing as Twitter. These guys are tough, they work long, hard hours, and sometimes the job gets to them after a while. And I get a first-row seat to the show.
This particular day, just as I'm rounding the corner, a fight breaks out, and, when they see me, the two guys stop out of fear of losing their jobs. I look around, making sure no higher-ups on the ladder have seen it. I tell them, “Hey, I’m the biggest joker around but you don’t wanna lose your jobs.” The skinny, bearded one with fresh blood on his lip lies, “We were just joking, Boss.”
Boss? I see why Springsteen loathed the term. Who wants to be a part of the establishment that won’t let these men with soul-sucking jobs vent a bit. Like asking a croc not to thrash his tail. Like a ringmaster I walk to the sidelines, turn, and fold my arms to observe. I'm not the boss, don't want to be, though a report from me could get them fired. Being in the middle, I’m in an odd man out sorta wasteland. I’m ok with that. But just likes these guys need to vent, monotony kills in what I do, and I vote to skip out early thanks to a co-worker who agreed to close shop for me.
I drive the Jeep, listening to Trane’s Greatest Hits, to our home away from home (not my beloved Maine), and receive a big welcome from Baby Coconut who immediately wants Daddy to play with a circle of toy trains. Dinner's underway from my charmer and she fills me in on the progress of the cover art for “In the Clear, Black Fields of Night.” She’s concerned there's too much blue, but I like it and tell her so. Ava's hell-bent on getting her tiny trains in a perfect circle. I help her, and then we sit down to dinner. Afterward, I play some more with Ava and her toys, I network a bit, and my charmer and I finish the night with the movie BEING THERE starring Peter Sellers. We discuss the final scene of him walking on water and I agree with reviews that it was a brilliant stroke of directing. She falls asleep, and, for whatever reason, I feel like letting my friends in Blogger world know all about it.
Guns. Sports. Women. Those are the topics of conversation most days among the workers. They smoke and talk about beer like reverends talk about religion. All with lots of off-color jokes and good-natured ribbing. I walk about this jovial madness, and I think of MASH, that line about acting crazy to keep from going insane. I tweet that quote during lunch, and I bet most of the guys would laugh their asses off about such a sissy-sounding thing as Twitter. These guys are tough, they work long, hard hours, and sometimes the job gets to them after a while. And I get a first-row seat to the show.
This particular day, just as I'm rounding the corner, a fight breaks out, and, when they see me, the two guys stop out of fear of losing their jobs. I look around, making sure no higher-ups on the ladder have seen it. I tell them, “Hey, I’m the biggest joker around but you don’t wanna lose your jobs.” The skinny, bearded one with fresh blood on his lip lies, “We were just joking, Boss.”
Boss? I see why Springsteen loathed the term. Who wants to be a part of the establishment that won’t let these men with soul-sucking jobs vent a bit. Like asking a croc not to thrash his tail. Like a ringmaster I walk to the sidelines, turn, and fold my arms to observe. I'm not the boss, don't want to be, though a report from me could get them fired. Being in the middle, I’m in an odd man out sorta wasteland. I’m ok with that. But just likes these guys need to vent, monotony kills in what I do, and I vote to skip out early thanks to a co-worker who agreed to close shop for me.
I drive the Jeep, listening to Trane’s Greatest Hits, to our home away from home (not my beloved Maine), and receive a big welcome from Baby Coconut who immediately wants Daddy to play with a circle of toy trains. Dinner's underway from my charmer and she fills me in on the progress of the cover art for “In the Clear, Black Fields of Night.” She’s concerned there's too much blue, but I like it and tell her so. Ava's hell-bent on getting her tiny trains in a perfect circle. I help her, and then we sit down to dinner. Afterward, I play some more with Ava and her toys, I network a bit, and my charmer and I finish the night with the movie BEING THERE starring Peter Sellers. We discuss the final scene of him walking on water and I agree with reviews that it was a brilliant stroke of directing. She falls asleep, and, for whatever reason, I feel like letting my friends in Blogger world know all about it.
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