[108] Screed City

[108]

03/02/2022 Wednesday. Cushioned Stool. Room 218. Home 2 Suites by the Airport. Albany, New York.

I mean, today went almost exactly as I thought it would. I mean, we got six line sets up instead of five. And we hung the turnbuckles on the dead hang points. But both Sally and Allan lost a lot of sleep last night. Billy didn't mention it, but he was definitely more docile today than usual. I mean, it may just be projection or wishful thinking or something like that, but there was lots of listening and very little attitude. Even Jayboo seemed a little restrained, but I don't know if that was just because I told him to restrain himself or if he is maybe catching a clue for once.

I mean, I took aside first thing in the morning and said "Hey, so here is what I would like to do, we will probably get five of these things up today, take Sally and Billy with you up to the load bridge, I will work with Allan down here. And then when we run the cables across the stage I will come up and act as a guide." To which he said:

"Well, that knocks the wind out of my sails, I was hoping to do twice that amount." To which I said:

"We'll see, if that happens it happens." Then he said:

"Okay."

I mean, we did six because we could do three at a time. That is the only reason. And more proof that it isn't that we can't do more work, it just can't be done all at once. I mean, Allan was pretty good at dressing cable on the deck. But he needed absolute focus to do it. Billy is pretty good at driving the scissors lift, but when Jayboo had them running three sets of lines even he could barely keep up. I mean, there were a lot of ups and downs. Backs and forths. Confused boobs. Worried boobs. But diligent and dedicated boobs nonetheless. I mean, it is what it is. It takes as long as it takes. I mean, we got all six line sets done by 2:15p, which is why we hung the dead hung hangers. I refused to start a new job that wouldn't get finished. That the boobs would forget about until tomorrow morning and then they would have to spend the first hour just remembering that they had no idea what was going on. And, I mean, Jayboo deferred to me. Which was helpful. I mean, there really isn't much to say about it. It was a very long and quite boring day at the old salt mines as the bridesmaids say. Slow and excruciating and cold and long and dusty and bleak. I mean, it is what it is.

I mean, I did learn something about Sally today that broke my heart. She had a fiancé at some point in her life. Who was killed ten years ago in an on-work accident. He was down on some deck adjusting a laser when some brute jack-ass start banging away on tack welded four inch tubing and it broke free from the welds creating a cascade of raining metal tubes that he wasn't able to get out from under. So he died. In what sounds like a very gruesome and tragic way. I mean, what a horrible thing to have happen. And the reason it came up was because we were talking about work site safety and how some guy from their union had died a few weeks ago because he slipped on some roof and fell to his death. And the thing is, he was wearing a harness AND he was clipped in. It is just the metal sheets of whatever he was installing cut his lanyard on the way down. Meaning, there was no way to prevent the accident aside from, I don't know, blunting the edges of the metal sheeting? I mean, it really did seem like a pure accident. I mean, these thing also get covered up lots of times. And not to be super cynical, but kind of smells a little like a cover-up. The guy was in his 30's with two kids and there was no pay-out from the accident. And apparently that led the union hall to remind people to fill out paperwork for such contingencies. Meaning, I mean, my gut tells me the guy hadn't actually connected his lanyard and they, whoever "They" are, manufactured the cut from the sheeting and it was just by accident that he didn't have his papers in order. Which, I mean, it sounds like there will be some long and drawn out legal issues that are going to have to be dealt with. And that is why the memo went out about paperwork. Like a virtue signal of sorts. I mean, Sally said her fiancé's family got something like $11 million dollars from his death. So...

But still. Nobody should be dying at work! I find that insane. Am I wrong? I mean, what brought the subject up was I was talking about what I would do if I was boss. How I would change the work site. How I would outlaw faster/louders because they don't make things go faster they just make things louder. And then the OSHA 10 came up again and Allan said I should take the OSHA 5 meaning the OSHA 500 which is something you take so your job is just going around job sites and making things safe for everyone. I mean, what a job that would be! I mean, 12 and a half weeks of training though. I should look up how much money it would cost to do. It might be a fantastic investment on my behalf. I mean, what could it possibly cost? $1,000 bucks? I mean, I could rake it in just watching people working. WHILE grinding this ax that I have. I mean it. NOBODY SHOULD BE DYING AT WORK. Nobody. Never. Not one. Yes, accidents happen. I won't deny that, and yes, maybe the union guy really did have his lanyard cut while he fell off the roof, but, I mean, maybe that is something that needs to change too? I mean, safety isn't a thing practical, it is a thing political. And I am not saying that saw blades need to be dulled so they don't cut things or that utility knives should be outlawed, but if your job is to put up metal sheeting and it looks like maybe working on that metal sheeting is akin to working on vertical razorblades, I mean, fuck that noise. Those factories could easily have a buffing station. I mean, the stage weights get hit with a grinder before they reach us. Why can't they do that with other metals? Especially if they are widow makers? I mean, there is a difference between tools and material. They don't just send you hydrochloric acid in unlabeled clear glass jars just hoping you won't confuse it for water. I mean, context is important. And I am not saying that sharp edges should be outlawed either, I just mean that creating an atmosphere where hazard is the norm not the outlier, I mean, it reminds me of asbestos. Nobody got sick from asbestos just because they were installing it. I mean, not in the sense that the act of installing it was the cause of sickness, it was the nature of the material itself. I mean, I just mean that if I took the OSHA 500 maybe I would have some ideas. That is all.

But this story made me feel pretty bad for Sally. It explained a lot. Her loneliness. Her commitment and solidarity with all the other union boobs. They are her family. It is as simple as that. And I think that is true for most of the boobs. I mean, I feel bad calling them boobs right now, but their emotions and humanity doesn't change the fact that they really do struggle with basic skills. I mean, I don't hold it against them. Jayboo does. Which does not bode well for him. I mean, the world is not as black and white as Jayboo thinks it is. I mean, now I am not only feeling bad about calling the iron workers boobs to make this point, I kind of wish I would have not decided to call Jason, Jayboo all the time. But I made my choice. I can't change the narrative now, can I? I mean, I am the Foreman, I can change whatever I want. I am the foreman at work and I am the foreman when I write, so, like good ol' HW, I don't like eating broccoli, now that I am president, I don't have to and I refuse. Or whatever he said. My point is, these union boobs have a community. That is their life. And good for them. You don't have to work your finger to the bone just to prove some arbitrary point that hard work is somehow a moral imperative. I mean, hard work is hard work. Work hard, it is actually very satisfying to try things, work hard at them and succeeding or failing depending on how it goes. But it is not some moral fucking imperative. Especially when for most of us hard work just gets you more hard work. No matter how long or how moral you are. There is no boot-strap that will save you from the gutter, man. And having a community of people to belong to, even if they are all boobs is commendable. Work is work. Money is money. Community is community. I mean, Sally really doesn't care for how Allan does his job. She even talks shit about him. But my guess is that when push comes to shove, as the bridesmaids say, she would gladly give everything she had in his defense. I mean, I don't think she would die for him or some such nonsense, but you know what I mean. She would defend him. Even though she thinks he is a bad worker. And such is how it should be. No paycheck is worth destroying your community.

Which, I mean, Jayboo. I am not saying he lacks this moral commitment, his loyalty belongs to the Catholic church. So his problems and feelings are of a different context. He thinks that hard work is a moral imperative. That poor work and laziness is a moral failing. Which, I mean, him and Scott get into it sometimes. Because Scott can work circles around Jayboo. He is smarter and more perspicacious and frankly much better at the job than him. Which, I mean, if your argument is that the more moral you are the better you are at working then that would mean that Jayboo is morally inferior to Scott. Which, gives me a good lark. I mean, mostly because what a ridiculous idea, but the idea that Jayboo is in some marathon race with Scott about moral authority based on working habits is kind of the stupidest thing I can think of with respect to how to live your life. I mean, life is very simple. Some people are better at things than you are. And all the boot-straps in the world won't change that. I mean, it reminds me of Henry Rollins.

Quite a few years ago Henry Rollins was on some tour with Iggy Pop and the Stooges. Every night Henry would go on stage and perform the best he could. And every night Iggy would come on afterwards and wipe the floor with him. Well, one day Henry decided he would do the best performance of his entire life. He went out there. Gave it everything he had. The crowd loved. Everyone agreed it was his best. As he was walking back stage afterwards he ran into Iggy who was heading out onto the stage to perform. Henry said:

"Good luck following that tonight." Iggy just smiled. Took his shirt off. Chugged a bottle of wine and blew Henry right out of the water as the bridesmaids say.

I mean, in this scenario Scott is Iggy and Jayboo is Henry Rollins. The key is learning when or when not to compete. I mean, Jayboo knows it. He even said as much. That one time when he told me, or asked me:

"Scott knows he has a special mind, right? For this stuff, right? He has to know, right?" He was asking me because I spend a lot of time with Scott. I said:

"He doesn't not know." I mean, it doesn't matter if Scott knows it or not. He will do what he needs to do because it is what Scott needs to do to live in this world. With himself and with whatever else there is out there. I mean, moral or not, Scott is going to do what he thinks is right. It isn't a question of being good about something. Jesus doesn't need to get involved. Scott doesn't pray each morning to ask god to deliver him the rigging goods for the day. I mean, he might. I don't fucking know. But it wouldn't matter if he did. That is not the point. The point is, sometimes people are really good at shit and sometimes you suck at things. Ego assessments might rule the way that we have Society structured, but it changes nothing with regard to getting the job done. And, I mean, Jayboo would be better served learning that lesson and listening to people that know more about shit than he does than he would by trying to teach a ragtag group of union boobs how to work. I mean, THEY. JUST. DON'T. CARE. Squirts too. Even Connie. Connie has a little baby and is a 30 year old male bimbo. I mean, when he thinks of himself, which I know he does, quite a bit of the time, if not always, he is playing video games on a stage with a crowd of thousands cheering him on while drinks a micro-brewed beer and is getting a blowjob from a stripper. I mean, he will never ever understand that a turnbuckle should be splayed out two and a half inches for maximum usefulness. I mean, he just doesn't have it in him. I mean, you can lead a dog to a leg but you can't make him hump. And as far as Connie is concerned, he is all hump and no leg.

I mean, this work we do is very simple. It is just kind of high stakes is all. It is dangerous IKEA furniture at this point. I mean, these union jobs specifically. I mean, there is a myriad of other things that someone like Scott knows that I know I will never know in a way that I don't think Jayboo is capable of understanding. I mean, so what? That is not the job. What is that line from that movie Trust by Hal Hartley when the old man goes into the television repair shop to get his son's job back? The old man says something like:

"My son is a genius." Then the boss who fired his son says:

"I don't need a genius, I just need someone to fix TV's"

I mean, I don't mean to harsh on Jayboo. I really do respect him. He has some thoughts though that cause him more grief than they do the other thing that is not grief. And much like the union boobs, it is what it is. But sadly for him he will need to change. Not his surroundings. Because if he is to stay in this line of work those surroundings will never change. Not slowly, not over time, never. His version of hard work and conservative values, things that for some reason a large swath of America still think is the way forward and by forward I mean backward. I mean, nobody, not a single one of us thinks dying on the job is okay anymore. Supposed dignity from work is just pure and utter garbage. And it is not because everyone is a lazy immigrant or something. I mean, I don't know where he gets his thought process, but because if we actually lived in a just and merit-based society where hard work and perseverance paid off equally we would not be having the troubles we are having because Capitalism would actually work and there wouldn't be only straight, old, White men deciding everything. Holding all the money and the power. And that is changing. Thank god, but until that power balance is corrected, his antique ideas about what it means to show up and do a good days work are outdated, sexist, racist, homophobic, transphobic, xenophobic and even worse, they are the antithesis of what he thinks they mean. Because the problem with Society is not that poor Braveheart can't go on racist, anti-Semitic drunken rants because "Slippery Slope" or that "Hollywood" is anti-Conservative, it is very simple. The problem is that nobody wants that anymore. There are one billion artists in the world. Hollywood is not conspiring against him. Or who he thinks he is. Hollywood is just making shit that people want. And the problem for him is that nobody is buying what he is selling anymore. I mean, American Capitalism strikes again. I mean, he has all the solutions, but he doesn't realize that his solutions are actually the problem. He doesn't know that he is the problem. He just thinks everyone is weak and lazy and too sensitive. I mean, he is not wrong, but so what? The other day he said he would love to go back in time and kill Nazis. And then he asked me what I thought about all the Russians on the job site. And then he called Nancy Pelosi Skeletor. I mean, the "Party" that he is commiserate with is flirting with all-out fascism, members are speaking at White Pride rallies and his most favorite president is calling Putin a genius. I mean, how he keeps it all straight in his head I find very confusing. I mean, I know I am missing something, but I am not sure what it is. And since I am from Wyoming I can usually intuit these things. I mean, the only thing I can think of that it might be is very simple. White Christianity. And to me that is the scariest possibility. Not because I am afraid of Christianity or god or whatever, but in the history of mankind the White Christian Nation has been the most destructive and unreasonable of all the things that have transpired. And tribalism is at the very core of this movement. Meaning, there is no reasoning when it comes to someone and their god. It doesn't matter how discordant the viewpoints might be. When they start saying things like "Nobody asked us if homosexuality was okay, or transgender issues." Which, I mean, I heard this verbatim on the radio two days ago. I mean, there is a call to arms happening right now. And it isn't simply a "Culture War" any more. To them it is an all-out assault.

I mean, sorry, that got a little dark. On a lighter note to end this, I had dinner with G. At Jimmy D's. I got the gyro with fries and a Greek salad. G got the chicken souvlaki again. Third time in a row. They drank iced tea. I drank diet Pepsi. We had a pretty good time. They have died their hair purple. Told me about school. Things are going pretty good. The Juice Man is doing alright. I mean, I like the Juice Man. What teenager gets the nickname, Juice Man? I mean, he is tall and he likes juice. I don't know why I think that is so funny. G's mom is still out of town. On the Hot Mom's Gone Wild Tour of Puerto Rico. Which means that G has to spend a lot of time with M, her stepdad, I guess? I don't know what they call him. I mean, M, but I mean, I don't know what they call him to their friends. So G is spending as much time at school as possible because all the interactions are awkward and apparently he can't cook. I mean, I forgot to ask about Romeo and Suki, but I assume they are doing alright otherwise I think they would have brought it up. I mean, typical teenage vibes. It is funny to show up to their school in the work van. The mask mandates have been lifted. Which G says doesn't make much difference. Most of the kids still wear masks. Some of the teachers don't. I mean, nobody is ripping their mask off and running naked through the streets. I mean, it is just a thing that happened. Eventually it will get back to "Normal" whatever that means. I mean, I will go pick them up after work on Friday and we will drive to Portland and hang out with PegLeg and Phyliss and Brother Luke and family for weekend and then come back here and do whatever it is that people do. I mean, it was a nice time we had at the diner. G and I have quite a few things in common. I mean, it is nice. I wish it happened more often, but such is the modern world. I mean, I should hit the sack. I got work tomorrow. Another six line-sets and maybe hang some more of the main curtain rigging. I mean, it will be what it is. I might go to the taco shop for lunch. I mean, I need to take the work van back to the shop after work tomorrow, so I need to keep that in mind, but that doesn't affect the daily business. I mean, we will work all day, then the day will be done and then I will take a little trip. Such is life.