[106] Screed City

[106]

02/28/2022 Monday. Cushioned Stool. Room 218. Room 2 Suites by the Airport. Albany, New York.

Jayboo joined the team. Which, I mean, he is a very welcome addition. This should be his job as it is, but he certainly knows how to stir the pot. Not only that, but if he gets his way, we will be done with this job on Friday, which, I mean, no offense, but as much as I find this job to be excruciatingly difficult, spiritually, I kind of want it to last at least another week. I mean, my poor wallet. I mean, I have some mixed feelings on the matter. I mean, sure, the job should get done faster. There are three extra workers on site that don't need to be there at all, but I mean, my compensation with having to babysit three iron worker kindergarten boobs is money. And having him on site takes that away from me. Then what? It's not like they will put me on the Buffalo job. That crew is already set. I will just go back to being unemployed. Worrying about money. Woe is me.

I mean, when he got to the site today it took him all of two seconds to see what was up. Instead of keeping his mouth shut he derided the union boobs. Essentially called them stupid. Said stuff like 'I have drilled thousands of holes and never had to use a pilot bit to make a 3/8's hole in quarter inch metal." Then when Billy walked out to use the bathroom because he was obviously flustered by this I had to give Jayboo the "Shut the fuck up," eyes. He just smiled like fucking Bugs Bunny. "Aint I a stinker."

I mean, during lunch we walked to the deli and I gave him the entire lowdown. How the entire job was politics only. That yes, there are at least one too many people on the job, but there was nothing I could do about it. That as much as I would like to kick one of them off the crew I just couldn't. That there is something in the contract about how many union workers we have to use. That yes, this job would already be done if it was just me, Jayboo and Scott, but so what? That the way he could help is if he kept his mouth shut. Let it all go. Just take it slow and help me move forward. I mean, he thought it all very ludicrous. And it is. Very much so, but there is nothing to do about it. And coming around causing grief for everyone involved was helping nobody. Himself included. If we are going to keep doing these union jobs, by we I mean BMI which includes Jayboo, we need to figure out how to make them happen. Not solve the problem of bad workers. Not only that, but if we could do that in the first place we wouldn't have to deal with Squirts or people like Squirts. And as much as I understood his frustration I wasn't going to let him take the system down from within.

I mean, he belongs to the old school. The school where people work really hard for companies that could give two shits about their employees as long as they are making money. And as long as they are making money one day they might give three shits about them. That hard work is it's own reward. That people should show up to work with ability and desire for more ability. And in principle I agree with some of the things he thinks. I think hard work is rewarding. I don't think some random company deserves my undying loyalty and unending hard work and ethic just because they pay me the minimum amount of money to get me to come to work. I mean, I think that within reason I should do a job I get paid to do. I mean, that in itself is very complicated. I mean, he should know this. You give an inch and they take a mile. They aren't working hard to pay you more money, no, in fact the opposite. They would prefer to pay you less money. If they could get away with it. They would do it. Which, I mean, is just stupid business practices, but that is how they all think. And I do mean all of them. All bigger and big businesses don't see their workers as a tool to making money, they see them as a hinderance to making MORE money. And, I mean, I am pro-union. I mean, in the collective bargaining scheme of things. I don't know about all the other stuff that comes along with it. The politics and global rules to local problems. I mean, labor itself should not have to exist on a sliding scale. Or maybe the better way to put that is, labor itself shouldn't be a race to the bottom. It should exist within the guidelines of living wage with respect to hourly work. I mean, the problem is this. The bigger the company the less likely they are to understand the daily lives of their employees. That is why they don't understand why you should pay your employees a living wage. But if you have a small business, you will naturally understand this structure because the people you hire will be from the same community that you yourself live in. And you will want to pay people what they need to make in order to live. I mean, you are very unlikely to underpay your workers just by pragmatics alone. If you aren't paying correctly you won't get any employees. You just won't. Even if they are desperate. And desperate employees are fickle employees. Because shit comes up all the time when you are desperate. And when you are making shit wages you never feel like you are under any obligation to continue to work at these places.

I mean, I got a call from the Big Boss today. Let me go back, I got a text from the Big Boss today that said "Call me when you get a sec." I called him immediately. He said "Hey, Joe. Thanks for calling. So on these time sheets you filled out you wrote that you worked from seven until three. Did you not take lunch?" I said "Yeah, I mean, we took a thirty minute lunch." Then he said, "So you took a thirty minute paid lunch?" And I said "Well, not really, I mean, we took lunch." And then he said "So you worked until three thirty?" And I said "Sure." And he said "So you had eight hours on the job site then?" And I said "Yeah." And he said "Okay, next time write down that you worked from seven until three thirty." And I said "Okay." And that was that. I mean, I don't know if he was honestly confused or if he was accusing me of something or most likely, if he was just saying that I need to write that we worked until three thirty for the sake of appearances, but I mean, he could have just said "Hey, Joe. Next time you fill out the time sheets, just put in that you worked until three thirty. Thanks." I mean, I honestly felt like I was getting in trouble. Like I was shaky about it. But then I wanted to tell him that no matter what I did those boobs were leaving at 3p. Even if something was hanging down and might kill someone, they would just drop the ropes the second the work whistle blew. That I could not control that. And if he had a problem with it he should take it up with the union, because there was no way in hell I was going to force these boobs to work a full eight hour day. I mean, there are crickets chirping on the job site at 3:05p. Literally. I mean, it is usually just me standing there on the stage. Alone. Not a single person on the 30 plus worker job site still there. And the idea of wringing an extra thirty minutes out of these boobs is an impossible endeavor.

I mean, this job isn't about salary actuary tables. Or however you want to say it. There is no post-mortem to figuring out how to squeeze a few more pennies out of these guys before they leave the job site. You just have to accept things as they are. That an eight hour day is eight hours. Even with lunch. Even if it is supposed to be unpaid. I mean, does he want to talk about the thirty minute break at 9a? How in fact, they actually work a seven hour day in the end. And the word "Work" is very relative. I mean, I guess that is all I mean, the idea of giving resistance to these companies is not really about work at all, it is about understanding labor and what it entails. And if BMI is going to go forward with these union jobs the sooner they can get on board with how things actually work, the better.

I mean, that is something too I had to explain to Jayboo. That we were done at 3p. No matter what. That he would need to delay clocking out until 330p. Which, I mean the fact that he has to clock in in the first place kind of proves my point. Jayboo shouldn't be getting paid by the minute. That is ridiculous. Especially when he, like me and Scott, constantly have to drive five hours or more for work. Then stay overnight in shit-holes like Buffalo all week. And then to be nickeled and dimed the whole week long? I mean, we are hourly workers, sure, but we are hourly in the sense of day work. A day is eight hours. A half-day is four hours. Not three hours and fifteen minutes. Not four hours and twenty three minutes. Either or. Take it or leave it. I mean, circumstances dictate, but it's not like they add up all your extra time and add it to the other time that you are working and the opposite is true, it is not like they take time away from the other time that work longer. It is the bridesmaids shuffle of heads they win, tails I lose. And unions are the only way we have right now of fighting that. Even if sometimes they are out of control. I mean, if everyone, every single worker was in a union this shit would sort itself out. But instead they just pit us against each other and the only ones who win are the corporations and the wealthy. Us laborers just get the shaft.

I mean, we got all the horiz-bar up. I was able to get the boobs to fabricate some decent extension plates. More beefy than the ones that came with the J wall. I mean, I used an old piece of horiz-bar from some other job and cut it into ten inch sections. Used one of the existing slotted holes and had Billy and Allan drill a hole in the other end. Which made me nervous for Allan because he keeps hurting himself. Luckily Billy was there to do the drilling. But the J wall is finished. Finally.

Me and Allan did some work putting in pipe splices for the truss batons. Which was kind of funny. I mean, there was steam coming out of Allan's ears while we made sure that we were putting the things in the right holes. I mean, the trusses have a left side and a right side. If you put the splice in the wrong side the holes won't match up. But Allan had a very hard time deciding which side was which. Which witch was which, as Grit would say. With respect to twin witches. I mean, but we did it. Or we half did it. There are still half of them to do. We did this while Sally and Billy and Jayboo were on the loading bridge dealing with the knee wall. I mean, that was kind of funny. Jayboo was just going to get out onto the J wall by standing half-on, half-off of the loading bridge. With a harness and a beamer. But he couldn't stop them from putting the Unistrut and OSHA planks back up. Which gave me shameful joy because he finally saw what I have been seeing this whole time. That, even if you have an idea about something that means nothing. I mean, you can yell at Squirts or Connie, but you can't yell at these boobs. I mean, you can, but you won't enjoy the results. They won't buckle like those two. And for good reason. I mean, my plan all along was the put those OSHA planks back up if we needed to. I mean, for safety reasons. I mean, Allan won't even get in the scissors lift. What does that tell you?

But by break we had the horiz-bars up. I think. No, we were ready to start putting the horiz-bars up by break. Then we took a break. Jayboo and I talked for a while. Mostly about Donkey. He has been reading it. He compared it to Faulkner and Virginia Wolfe. Which was a nice compliment. I mean, he meant it in the stream of consciousness kind of way, but that is what it reminded him of. I mean, he has finished Part Two. The next round won't go out for a couple of weeks. I mean, I could get him on an accelerated course, but I am not going to. He is getting the full treatment. The slow, excruciating burn. Like the serial itself. But then he ate a muffin. And an American desert cake that looked like a toilet paper tube filled with whipped cream. I mean, Jayboo is kind of weirdo. I like him. If it wasn't for his religion and misguided fiscal understanding I think he would be a Democrat, if not at least an "Independent." But for now he considers himself a Republican. Which is too bad. I mean, the Right has gone too far to the Right. There is nothing else to say about it. They are flirting with Fascism all across the board. And Fascism is the end of Democracy. It just is. This is not political. If America needs two parties. One on the Left like a donkey pulling it forward and one on the Right like an elephant pulling it back, I mean, I am okay with that. It sucks for me, but at least we can agree that Democracy, even in it's faulted state is something to pursue. But when the Right just wants to burn the whole thing down and create a White Christian Ethno-State, I mean, that goes against the entire structure of what America is supposed to be. I mean, this is not politics. Racism and Religious Fascism is not a culture war. You can't convince me otherwise.

But I digress. After break the boobs on the loading bridge put the horiz-bar in. Tightened down all the loose hardware that I don't know why it was loose. Allan worked his brains off trying to figure out the truss splices. I did some calculations for trim heights among other things. Checked emails. Drank coffee. Foreman stuff. I mean, these jerks. They think I can't make a decision. They harass me about it when I don't just tell them what to do. I mean, I have to joke about it. I say stuff like "I democratize the work site and you have the gall to complain to me about how slowly I make decisions? You aught to be ashamed of yourselves!" Then they laugh and leave me alone. I mean, they don't understand. They just don't understand that I am working with children. Children that expect everything to be black and white. That I can't just tell them to do something because I have to show them how to do it. Then I have to watch them do it to make sure they are doing it right. And then, when they do it wrong, I have to fix it for them. And I can't just make a decision because if I make a wrong decision at the wrong point then I have to come back and make another decision about how to fix this other decision so we can move forward but at the same time I have to make a decision about how to keep them engaged at the same time otherwise they will just wonder off onto the other parts of the job site and start bullshitting with their friends. And as much as I would prefer to be left alone until I can make a decision that takes every other decision into consideration getting them back is like herding cats as the bridesmaids say. And, I mean, it is kind of funny, but it is extremely exhausting. I mean, for the first time in six days on this job I was actually able to sit down and do some calculations and think about the future of the job. I mean, I could do this in my hotel room, but fuck that. Go back to the previous bitching I was doing. I am not going to work overtime unpaid in order to make this job happen. My reward will be less work and less money. I mean, I might make someone happy, but so what? I mean, as long as I am not making somebody pissed off my job is going along just fine. I mean, even getting the tire changed last week was kind of outside my scope of responsibilities. I mean, not really because it NEEDED to happen, but still. I should have charged them for that, but at that point it would be considered "Travel" and giving them a bill for $12 dollars just seems mean spirited. And not only that, but someone somewhere would see that bill and have some very inappropriate thoughts about how to solve the issue. Which, I mean, the company supposedly makes millions of dollars a year, having someone in the office up in my business about getting a tire changed while on a job just seems like asking for trouble. And, I mean, I am not worried about the bottom dollar, but I know they are.

Where was I? Oh, right. I did some stuff. The boobs did some stuff with Jayboo in charge. Allan did some stuff. The boobs on the loading bridge finished what they were doing exactly at lunch time. We took lunch. Jayboo and I walked to the deli. I got some chips and a soda. Jayboo got some chips and a soda and a pre-made turkey sandy. We walked and talked. I told him how to mind his P's and Q's. He disagreed but understood. We got back to the job site. I ate a burrito. He tried to eat his sandy. It smelled weird so he threw it away. He had me smell it. It did smell off. But just because of the cheese. I would have eaten it. I said "What is the worst that could happen?" He said "I could throw up." I offered him a burrito. He turned it down. I had mentioned earlier that I thought that the hot sauce I made had fermented in a way that it was possibly 1% alcohol. Then he made a joke about the burrito that knocked him off the wagon. Which, I mean, it was pretty funny. He is pretty candid about his past. Which I respect. Stigma is 99% of what is wrong with Society right now. And there is about 50% of the country that wants to stigmatize everything that we have been fighting for in the last 50 years. And it will backfire and it is gross and I look forward to it backfiring.

After lunch we spent the rest of the day running op-line. Which was nice. I showed Boob #1 and Boob #2 how to do it. ONCE. Just once. And they were able to repeat the thing. Jayboo was up on the loading bridge with Boob #3. They were having a good time. Sally smoking, I mean, at one point I went up there to get a measurement and she literally hid her smoke like a fucking teenager. I mean, I made a joke about it. And then Jayboo made a joke about how teenagers now go into the bathroom and take their masks off, like they used to do with smoking. Which, I won't lie, the joke is okay. It very much misses the point and it says way more about him than it does about the current state of life as was know it. But, I mean, I have said this before, the MAGA douchers are the punk rockers of the 80's except they are just stupid. They are not fighting against the status quo they are fighting for it. And to see them as being on the right side of the resistance, is frankly, I don't know, reactionary? I mean, mask mandates are ending. Systematic racism and oppression is still going very strong. I mean, the if the MAGA douchers are punk rockers from the 80's they are the straight edge assholes. Wearing D.A.R.E. shirts and joining the Guardian Angels. I mean, how the hell they got as much traction as they have kind of blows my mind. Butwhatever. Jayboo like a big FU to the world. I do too. We might not agree on what that means, but his heart is in the right place. I mean, being pro-Covid is an odd way to express that, but to each their own.

I mean, Jayboo kept calling Billy, Charon. From the river Styx. From the Dante poem. I mean, "All ye who enter, cross your butts!" Which was genuinely funny. Nobody else got the joke. I mean, he didn't say it like that. I mean, I kept hearing this punk rock song that I can't remember the name of. I mean, I think it was Husker Du? Or Bob Mould solo. "Abandon all hope!" And then for some reason I think the next line is "Boobs!" I don't know. It will probably come to me in the middle of the night. I mean, butwhatever.

We got all the op-line up. It took the rest of the afternoon. I mean, Sally was calling down for me to come pick her and Jayboo up with the scissors lift at 2:55p. Even though there was still one more rope to pull. I mean, this gave me shameful joy as well. Knowing that Jayboo was doing all the work and Sally was trying to get down before the 3p work whistle blew. I mean, I looked at my phone after I put my harness on, went up and grabbed them, brought them down. Let them get off the lift. Drove it closer to the electrical chord so we could plug it in. I mean, it was 3p exactly. I mean, only Sally said goodbye. The other two boobs were long gone. I mean, Jayboo and I just kind of stood there. A little dazed. I said "See?" He just bit his teeth and kind of blew air into his cheeks. I mean, I could see his brain working, but he didn't say anything. Then I told him to wait until 3:30 to clock out. Otherwise he would cause some issues. We walked out together. He used the Jake. Told me he would be in around 10:30a tomorrow. Because he needed to go to the doctor. I said I would let him know if we needed anything. He said that he thought we could just muscle the arbors up to the head blocks. No need to use the motor hoists. I said I thought we should try, but I was not as confident as he was. About it. I mean, if it is true then that means we are losing about four hours of work. Which is fine and all, but it means less money for us and more body work. I mean, I really don't know what to do about. I mean, he is right. We can easily make this job just get finished. But I won't lie, I am not happy about it. I mean, we will see. I also have this plan to do the line sets one at a time. To drag things out, on one hand and to make sure that I can get the boobs on track to doing this alone. So I don't have to do all the work myself. I mean, it is funny. Very funny. The idea that I am slow rolling Jayboo in order to keep the job going. But still, I mean, go back to before. The only pay-off for me is if this job slowly runs itself out. I don't need an accelerant. I don't want and accelerant. And not only that, but he has work for the next few weeks. In Buffalo. Which, I mean, is now being slow rolled by I Wiess, naturally. I mean, there is a good possibility that he will be with us next week too. That is, if the job continues past Friday. I mean, if tomorrow we can just muscle the arbors to the head blocks and then connect the wire ropes without involving the motor hoists, I mean, like I said, that means half a day of work is gone. If not more. I mean, I don't know what I mean, this should be his job in the first place. Maybe I will work myself out of a job and just let him deal with the aftermath? I mean, there are only 22 line sets. If we do five a day, which is a small amount, that puts us at next Monday being done with them. Then there are two curtain tracks. Which, one is on a moving truss and the other is dead hung. I mean, we will be done by next Wednesday at the latest. Which, okay. That is close to next Friday, but two days short of what would be worth it, as far as I am concerned. I mean, whatever. It will be what it is. Sally has a plane ticket to Florida on the 28th and I would like to be in Philly at some point before the 24th. And we do have all that syrup to make, so maybe things are looking up. But still. MONEY. Give me money. I want more money. Money=Suffering. And without money, Suffering=Suffering. I guess I should just get a job?

To end this on a lighter more tragic note. Niece A has been having some troubles with her stomach. I got a text from G today that said "Did you hear abt A?" To which I went into full panic mode. Thinking something horrible had happened. I called and called. No answer. I called PegLeg. She finally answered. I said "What's up? I hear..." PegLeg gave me the lowdown. Things are fine. Then I said "I went into full panic mode. I really thought there was an emergency." To which PegLeg said "Sounds like payback." In the "Payback is a mother fucker" kind of way. Meaning, of all the times I have worried my mom and people that love me. I mean, I had to laugh. "Touché," I said. I mean, a 14 year old getting information from an 18 year old that then gets filtered through a grandma. I mean, when the Big Boss sent me the "Call me when you get a sec." Text. I mean, maybe that is why I was so worked up about time sheets. Because I thought something very horrible had happened. I mean, I am sorry. I am. I don't mean to cause people grief. But my whole life I have been able to take care of myself. It is everyone else that is constantly in crisis. I mean, that is decidedly not true. But when you are panicking on a racist job site in Albany and all the information you are getting is from a teenager, I mean, having kids is a wild fucking ride! That is all I mean. G!!!!!!!