[102] Screed City

[102]

02/22/2022 Tuesday. Cushioned Stool. Room 410. Home 2 Suites by the Airport. Albany, New York.

Well, the blatant racism came out today. I mean, I guess I have endeared myself to the crew enough that they ask me about what I am going to have for dinner. I said I didn't know. The Billy guy. The one that is both a know it all and knows nothing. The one that is combative for absolutely no reason. The one that got into the racist tiff with Harold. He said:

"There is this one place near you. A Caribbean place if you like that kind of food. Although, you are White, so it is probably pretty dangerous to go there."

I mean, how the hell do you combat that? I could push back. Ask him what he means. But I know exactly what he means and I just don't want to engage the asshole. And just scowling at him doesn't work. I mean, I scowl at him all day long. It must be what he thinks my face looks like. I mean, I came very close to sending them all home today when shit wasn't going right and rather than just kind of step away and leave me alone while I figured it out, all three just came at me from different angles. I mean, I almost started yelling. But that is whatever. The racism however. I mean, the job site got stuck in the mid-90's and just never moved on from there. And, I mean, turn on the radio and you will find out why. Garbage. It is all garbage. Toxic garbage. Advocating violence under the guise of personal freedems. Advocating violence against school boards. Saying things like "We are coming for you." And then "The way you tell you have the attention of your adversaries is when they start to behave erratically and radically in response to what you do." I mean, if those aren't the seeds of physical violence and projection, I don't know what is. I mean, don't go to the Caribbean place because you are White and therefore you will get beat-up or killed? I mean, what other kinds of "Dangerous" could he mean? This isn't West Side Story. I mean, going out to eat won't turn into a rumble or something. I don't know these people and they don't know me. Why would I be scared for my safety? Unless...

That sucked. I mean, it's official, the Allan guy is a drunk. First thing this morning I wanted to get him and the Billy guy up in the lift to move the loft blocks that needed moving and to check the other loft blocks placing. He was nervous about it and I didn't know why. I mean, honestly the guy just seemed hungover and I assumed he has a fear of heights. But then he was saying that he was nervous about how the railing was broken. And at that point what could I do? He had a very valid point. I wasn't going to force anyone up into the lift that was afraid for their safety. This didn't go well. I mean, Sally didn't want to go up in the lift either. Her reasons were unknown. I mean, laziness. But so what? Sometimes at work you have to work. But then I realized that the Billy guy was truly confused about what was happening there was no way around it. I had to get in the lift and do the work. Which, I mean, I know this is the rub. But still, I am trying to get the job done!

I mean, Allan being a drunk just confirms what I was thinking. I mean, his not working since October. The way that the other two talk behind his back. The way that they think I don't notice this. The way that he over-compensates by lifting things alone that he shouldn't lift alone. I mean, I don't know what I mean. Work politics. And the thing is, I DON"T CARE. I don't. I know that I am basically a substitute kindergarten teacher on this job. Nobody knows shit. They have no scope of the job. Everything is a tragedy or an emergency. I can tell them to move some shit but then they break the shit somehow. Even if it is just stuff made out of metal. I mean, I had a look at the lock rail today. It is not looking very new anymore. I mean, I don't even know when they did it, but somehow it has aged about a decade since leaving the connex yesterday. I mean, I am worried about it a little bit. It is not going to look very good when it gets installed tomorrow. I guess I need to go buy some black nail polish.

But here is the thing. The crew is a union crew. Fine by me. I am in favor of unions. But the jerks are like me, in the sense that they don't show up with tools. I mean, my tool kit is the rigging basics tool kit. A bag filled with basic rigging tools. Not so big that you can't take it with you on the subway. But these fuckers. They have tools. Lots of tools. Drills, and whatever. Useful tools. But they leave them in their trucks. Which is fine. But the second you need a tool from them it is like suddenly you are asking them for a kidney. "I mean, I can go get it, it's out in my truck though." Which, fine. I am like that too. These jobs are not your responsibility. You are just there to work. But c'mon! You think I should drive back to Queensbury because in the middle of figuring out what I needed for this job it slipped my mind to bring a corded drill? And you have one we can use? I mean, Professor Curly put it best. They desire this sort of disfunction. I mean, I had to take them aside today and say:

"Hey, just so we are clear, I should have had an entire day down here by myself figuring out exactly what we needed to get this job done. This is not my job. I inherited it. Not only that but we stopped work on it two months ago." To which Sally said:

"Oh, sorry, I suppose we should have left you alone earlier."

I mean, Sally's contribution to the crew is really as a diplomat. She is the key to communication with the other union crews. To the entire system. She speaks the languages. It is kind of impressive. And, I mean, she is the least racist, so I will allow myself to not feel entirely frustrated that I find her very useful. I mean, she did make me lunch today. I will go back to that.

I mean, the day started with Allan being too hungover to get into the lift. And Sally doing some sort of hunger strike about getting into the lift because she didn't want Allan to get out of having to work. So I went up into the lift with Allan. And he had all sorts of ideas about what needed to happen and what didn't need to happen. To the point that I had to stop him and say:

"Look, these are the marks we have. They were put up here by the last crew. I don't know why they aren't exactly where they are supposed to be, but I also don't know what the last guy was thinking or doing. I mean, I have to assume they are right and that they are within the tolerance allowed for what we are doing. I mean, we can't start over. That is not something we can do. They might be a little off, but until they are more than two inches off I am just going to assume it is us mis-measuring. We follow their marks." To which he responded:

"See this? I was the one that welded all these things. One two inch weld every six inches. It took us months." To which, I shut my mouth. Because his work was what created all the shit-show in the first place. It was his work that shut us down back in December. I mean, from what I have learned about the guy, he probably had all sorts of crap to say about it when he was doing it, but that didn't prevent him from doing the job wrong. Butwhatever. I mean, he has given me a certain Epiphone of sorts:

Don't trust guys that are resentful about not being in charge. They are not in charge for a reason.

I mean, I don't give a fuck. Let him be the foreman. That is the last thing I want to be doing. But just pointing out problems and then getting defensive about how nobody is listening to your solutions doesn't help anyone.

I mean, we checked all the loft blocks. Moved the ones that needed to be moved. Sally and Allan cut chunks of two by four to use as spacers for the lock rail. I mean, those spacers are only temporary. I wasn't able to find an Unistrut at the shop, and I had no desire to go on some wild goose chase as the bridesmaids say at the storage unit. Especially when the gas in the smaller van was so low. I mean, did I mention that yesterday? How the van was very much on empty? How it was my own karma catching up with me? That the last time I had driven that thing back from Buffalo I knew the thing was on empty but because it was in the middle of a blizzard I decided to just leave it for the next guy? And the next guy was me, myself? I mean, whatever.

We didn't have a circular saw or a Sawzall because I didn't think we needed either. So I didn't pack them. Which, I mean, I guess in the future I will just pack every single tool in the shop. EVERY SINGLE ONE. I mean, I did laugh to myself when I looked down and watched Sally and Allan cutting two by four with the portable band saw. Especially when I knew that Sally didn't know how to run the thing. I mean, it kind of gave me some pleasure. But they did it. And frankly, later in the day I had to cut some two by four with the same tool and it was surprisingly easy. Like, I mean, I hat the Sawzall. I think it is a junk tool. It has it's purposes. But for the most part it is just loud and brutal and one step away from just smashing things with a sledge hammer. But I digress.

After I did the job that everyone else could have done if Sally wasn't so lazy and Allan wasn't so hungover and Billy couldn't wrap his mind around. We started getting the L brackets ready to get installed in the concrete. For the lock rail. And guess what? That 1/2 inch threaded rod I got yesterday didn't fit through the holes. I honestly didn't think much of this. I just thought there was a mis-communication and the holes were the holes. So, it being break time, I told them to take a break, I would go to the Home Depot and get some 3/8's rod and be back by the end of break. Which worked out just fine. When I got back the new scissors lift had been delivered. They were literally driving away with the broken one. I backed the van into the entrance and had the goons unload it. We had gone down to the connex earlier to get all the hardware. I was sick of having to deal with that. I mean, having to deal with going down there every time we needed something. I would take a gamble and move it all onto the stage.

So, that was done. We started doing layout and whatever. I mean, I started doing layout while fielding questions that nobody needed answers to. Which, I mean, this is where shit went sideways. I brought Allan over to check out the blooper prints so he knew what we were doing. I mean, there, in tiny black letters the words:

1/2 inch anchors supplied by the installer.

I mean, my whole plan was to just use the 3/8's rod that I had just bought. I could have ignored everything in some sort of plausible deniability sort of thing. But because he saw it and I saw it and Sally saw it and Billy saw it. I mean, those holes were wrong. The holes the manufacturer had punched into the L brackets were wrong.

Suddenly Billy is pissed. He storms off to get his battery powered drill. He comes back. The only drill bit we have that will work is an 1/8th inch too large. Butwhatever. I am not going to split hairs. He starts drilling. Reaming the holes. I can't even. I mean, I know he is using the hammer drill setting on his drill but it is too loud to stop him. I assume he will figure it out. He doesn't. He chews through four holes. Then his drill starts dying. It is over heated. I mean, I am trying to ignore this, but I can't anymore. I tell him to stop. I mean, I can't even remember what I had them do because there was nothing to do. Oh! I had them put up the dead hung hangers. Or, I told them and showed them what to do. They seemed like they understood. They did not understand. I mean, I went to the Home Depot. Bought a chorded drill and two 9/16th inch bits. I mean, I looked around for some lube, but that is a totally different story. That involved Allan really milking it about going to his truck to get some WD 40. Butwhatever. I mean, I was gone for like 20 minutes. When I came back the looks on their faces. Spending all that time trying to figure out the task that I had set them too and failing. I mean, it was my fault. I should have just done the work myself. I mean, this shit is actually just odd work and they have no idea what is happening. I don't hold that against them. But it was very hilarious to see them using all of their mental faculties trying to figure it out. I put my harness on and went up in the lift with the Billy guy. Sally and Allan started reaming out the holes. Which, Allan hurt his wrist no fewer than three times doing so. Sally shaking her head. No help. I mean, whatever. I showed the Billy guy what exactly I meant for him to do. Then we took the lift down. Sally got into the lift and who knows. I don't know what they did up there. It was just busy work as far as I was concerned. To get them out of my hair for a little while so I could focus on moving the job forward. I mean, I am sure tomorrow I will have to go up and do it all again, butwhatever. Kindergarteners.

I mean, this is the point where you say there are no bad workers just bad bosses. I mean, you are probably right. But if I had my druthers, I would just can all three of them and do the entire thing myself. I mean, that, or just have them wait in their trucks until I needed them to lift something heavy. I mean, that wouldn't work because the Union would get wind of it and there would be a giant stink. I mean, I don't have the time and energy to teach these guys how to do this job. I just don't. They will never use this knowledge ever again. They just won't. They will have some vague memory of it, the Billy guy will pretend he is an expert on it from now on, but Sally and Allan will just forget it and move on. And so be it. It doesn't matter. But I can't be a good boss when there is absolutely no bossing to be done on a one-off job with workers that don't need to know how or what we are doing. They are literally just muscle. But I can't treat them like muscle because they are costing $1,500 dollars a day. Which, means nothing to me, but it means a lot to the people in charge.

Anyway. I sent Sally and Billy up into the air to do god knows what. I took over the reaming job from Allan so he didn't break his wrist off. We positioned the L brackets for the lock rail and took lunch.

I ate alone in the new van. Sally made me lunch. Chicken salad with hoagie buns and some chips and an apple and some Girl Scout cookies. It was really kind of tasty and sweet. I mean, I don't trust her motives as far as I can throw them, but I didn't mind. Like I said, she is a diplomat. I mean, she got into a car with some other Union workers and went off to do what, I don't know. I know she came back with scratch tickets. I mean, I wonder if they went out to smoke a joint or chug beers or something, I mean, she didn't seem high or drunk when she came back, but that doesn't mean she wasn't. I mean, she doesn't seem like that sort of person, but what the hell do I know?

Anyway. We got the L brackets set and anchored. I mean, I did almost all the work. Woe is me. I mean, I really don't mind doing the work, but it is insane that I can't delegate anything to these boobs. I mean, they certainly have tons of thoughts about stuff. Their delivery is just useless. I mean, as it stands, hopefully the anchors are set by tomorrow morning. I will need to stop into the Home Depot on the way to work to get a 3/8's bit to drill some holes that stupid I Weiss didn't punch when they fabricated the bracing. I mean, it kind of messed up my idea about how the lock rail was going to go in, but so what? What can you do?

I mean, I would like to cut this short, but I won't lie, there is more. We got to a point where it we couldn't keep working without going down to the connex or starting a whole new project so I just had everyone clean up for twenty minutes. Which meant everyone grabbed their tools and stood around while I cleaned up the job site. The pipe fitters never moved their shit. Tomorrow, they said. Always tomorrow. I mean, until they move their shit we can't move our shit. So it is becoming a problem. I have Sally on the politic end of it. She says they will do it. I have to believe her.

When I got into the new van the thing said I had a low tire. I got back out. Checked it. It was indeed low. I started driving back to the hotel. Thinking I would stop at a gas station and fill it up. The low tire. I missed my turn. Ended up on the interstate. Which would have been fine except the tire was losing pressure as I was driving. The new van is very modern. It tells you when you are losing air pressure. Now I was losing air pressure on the interstate. I thought about this. How often I had seen people on the side of the road broken down. I always think "How do you get on the interstate when you know something is fucked up?" And like all karmas, this came out of nowhere. I mean, I was able to limp down the road. Going 50 mph. Cars cruising past me at alarming speed. I mean, I got of and went to the first gas station I found. I paid $2 dollars to fill up the tire. Annoyed that it cost that much when I didn't need to fill up all four tires. Biden's America, am I right? I drove down the road. Went to the Hannaford's to get some supplies. I mean, that was a process as well. I didn't have a mask, which, I had left my mask in my hotel room. I mean, depending, wearing a mask indoors around here is a little social-political. But still. I was wearing my high-vis shit at that time, still. So everyone thought I must be an asshole anyway. I managed to get my supplies and get out without any drama. I got back to the new van. The tire pressure was low again. I was losing air pressure at an alarming rate. I pulled over. Thankful for once that I had a smart phone. Looked up a flat-fix. Half a mile down the road. Went there. Pulled up in front. Left the van running. Went inside. Told the guy what was up. He said:

"We can try and fix it, but if something is wrong, I will have to ask you about it."

I told him to do his best. He did his best. He said the tire had a nail and the walls were bubbling. I called the Big Boss. Told him what was up. He gave me the okay that I could get the tire replaced. I would just have to pay for it and do an invoice. I said thanks. Went back inside. Told them to exchange the tire. They did it. It took like ten minutes. They charged me $300 dollars. I mean, whatever. I will get the money back. I started walking out the door and the guy yelled to me:

"Have a good drive home!" Everyone is a comedian. I mean, the guy really was a yuck up. While we were doing the payment he said "The thing is going to ask you a few questions, like if you are a member of Firestone, or if you want to donate to Jerry's Kids or if you want to take a trip to the moon." I mean, I was hyper focused on his weird hair and thin lips and something about him seemed Canadian. I mean, whatever. I liked his jokes. His delivery was just off. I mean, there was a guy before him that was better, but he was done for the day. I mean, jobs. Some people are good at them. Others? Not so much.

Anyway. That is all. I have to stop at the Home Depot on the way into work tomorrow. To get a 3/8's inch bit. Which I was going to do before the tire scenario messed it up. I mean, when I was sitting in the waiting room waiting for the tire to be exchange I had a text exchange with Scott, he was wondering how the crew was. I sent him a picture of the new van jacked up, the tire being changed, with the caption:

"Being a foreman suuuuuuuuucks"

I mean, it kind of does. Who wants this job? It is thankless and the pay increase is not worth it. But hey! I have the respect of people that don't know shit about stuff. I can put it on my resume'.