[142] Screed City

[142]

05/24/2022 Tuesday. Cushioned Stool. Room 316. Room Two Suites. Albany Airport, Albany.

Well, I wasn't going to screed tonight, I have exactly two chapters of Sugar Beets [italics] left to right and I am excited to finish, but that will have to wait, Albany has once again come back into my life. Fucking hell. I mean, I was expecting a very uneventful day today and there would be nothing to report so I could just add it to the thing tomorrow, but that is sadly not the turn of events.

I mean, I woke up at 530a worried about Cubby Bubbys. Specifically Breakfast Bubbys. I needed to make 20 of them for Saturday and they needed to cool enough to wrap them and put them in the freezer before I left. So I was out of bed by 6a. Kind of did my rounds. Thought about things. Made some plans. Half-packed for Albany. Around 830a I made a dough. Then set a timer for one hour. An hour later I made another dough. Rolled the first dough into 10 balls. Leaving the other dough to raise. I made 10 Breakfast Bubbys. Set them aside. Preheated the oven at 450 F. Started making the other 10 Breakfast Bubbys. About 30 minutes later the oven was ready. I gave it an extra five minutes to equalize. Which turns out wasn't enough time, but you live you learn. Again and again and again. Either way. I put the things in the oven. Set a timer 15 minutes. Finished making the other ten. When 15 minutes were up I took the things out of the oven and rotated and flipped them over. Put them back in the oven. Set a timer for 15 minutes. Et cetera. Et al. Took them out to cool and whatever. Did the same with the other 10. And that was that. Well ahead of schedule. I was done baking by 1130a I think. Maybe a little before that.

After the baking was done it was just a waiting game. I cleaned out the stairs to the basement. So I had a place to store my brewing stuff. At the moment I have 15 gallons of Ticklers. 12 Champagne Ticklers aging. So, I mean, I should be okay for a while.

My plan was to leave at 1p and head to the shop to give myself enough time to grab all the tools I needed and whatever. Load whatever. I didn't really think about it too much because I had so much time. But then I started thinking about it. And getting to the shop by 3p was just too much time to waist in Queensbury and Albany before I could start writing. So I changed my plan. I would leave at 230p and that would put me at the shop at around 430p. Probably earlier. They lock the doors at 5p, and as far as I knew all I needed to get was some paperwork and maybe a few hand tools. The job box would be in the van and if it wasn't, I could easily put it in myself. But I was very, very wrong. I mean, I don't mean to be dramatic, so maybe I should have said I was very wrong, no two verys, but still. I mean, I am getting ahead of myself.

The drive to the shop was uneventful at first. I got to Brandon. Let's go Brandon. Stopped for a meat puck as Scott calls them. A bacon cheeseburger, some chips and a diet Coke. Got back on the road. Took the scenic route. Down the covered bridge road. Now, last time when we were coming back we took this same road. And we discovered that there was an even shorter shortcut than the shortcut we took. And I thought I remembered the road correctly. But I did not remember the road correctly. I turned off on this road called Long Swamp. I drove and drove for quite some time, thinking I would end up at VT 30. I did not end up at VT 30. I ended up somewhere I had no idea where I was. So I turned around and went back to where the road turned from dirt to asphalt and drove on dirt for while longer until there was a sign that said "Last chance for turn around. No trucks." Now, this kind of sign is kind of innocuous unless you are driving a big rig or something so it didn't really send up any red flags. But when I thought about it, that I was thinking VT 30 was just up ahead wouldn't that mean there was a turnaround ahead? So did that mean I was now on an even more useless road for where I needed to go? This gave me a jolt of panic. My arms tingled. I pulled over to look at a map, but guess what? No cell service. Vermont. So I turned around and hauled ass back to Long Swamp road. Getting more and more paranoid that I was now going to be late and I wouldn't be able to get to the shop before they locked up. I mean, I was tearing down that road like a moron. Trying to make up lost time. I stopped myself when the road got rough and realized it wasn't worth crashing the car to get to work on time. So after that I just drove with determination instead of reckless disregard. But then, still, I missed my turn again. I don't know how I did it, but I was now on a fourth wrong road. I had to turn around and double back. And then, when things got even more unknown, like I was maybe, I don't even know, I pulled over and tried to look at a map again. Nothing doing. I just decided to go for it. I mean, what could I do? I knew I would either hit the road I was supposed to be on, or hit VT 30, there was literally no other option unless the road dead ended, which was possible, and just when I was about to turn around again, the phone got service, the map told me that VT 30 was just around the corner. I mean, I got spit out right where highway splits. I mean, I am pretty sure that isn't where we turned in last time. And as far as I know it wasn't the other shorter shortcut. I mean, on accident I found a third option. I mean, whatever, I was just glad to not be lost anymore. I relaxed and kept on keeping on.

The rest of the trip was actually uneventful. I got to the shop at 430p almost exactly. I parked. Went inside. The one guy, the ex-marine dude thought I was the wind blowing the door open. Which was a funny way to be greeted. I went into the office. Debbie and Monica were talking. They said they were talking about me. I mean, those two horny perverts. They said they were talking about me for other reasons, but I know what they are up to. Monica left. I talked with Debbie for a while. She had me sign some stuff. Gave me some badges. One for me and one for Sally. Scott was supposed to be on this job this week, but he decided to move into and airport. Just kidding. Kind of. He went down to Florida and boy did it not go well. I mean, last I heard he was getting into Burlington at around noon today. Who knows if that happened. Debbie said she hoped the badges would work. She couldn't laminate them. Plus they didn't have our pictures on them. Butwhatever, we'll find out tomorrow. But then she told me why we needed badges, and I was not surprised by what she said, but it did make me let out a giant sigh. She said:

"Oh, you haven't been reading the papers?" A great way to start a conversation about the job site you are about to go and work on.

"I, no, I haven't."

"Well, apparently some guy showed up to work one day with a Confederate flag on his truck. Then they told him to move it and he refused, but then he moved it down the block. And then after that there was a huge thing and he got removed from the job site, so now you have to have badges." I sighed and then shook my head. I said:

"I am not surprised, that is the most racist job site I have ever worked on. The entire crew. All the people there, super racist. We almost had to get some guys removed ourselves."

"Why do you think that is? They all live around there, don't they?" I guess because Albany is considered a city the people that live there aren't racist? I really didn't know what she meant. I said:

"Well, I mean, they live around there. One guy lives in Massechutesetts." That fucking state. A mouthful. I don't know if I am spelling it right and I don't fucking care. Mass-holes. Every single one of them. And they suck at hockey. "I mean, they think that me and Scott are just like them. The whole site is just MAGA idiots. Openly talking politics and saying racist shit. It is really one of the worst job sites I have ever worked on. Not only that, but they are anti-Union! I mean, they are anti-Biden and anti-Infrastructure, which basically means they are anti-Union."

"What? They think you and Scott are union workers?

I mean, after this question the conversation fell apart. I don't think Debbie was understanding what I was saying and I don't think I was understanding what she was saying. Luckily some other lady from the front showed up, so the conversation ended. I grabbed the Sprinter van key and went back outside to have a look see in the van. Then I took my phone out and called the Big Boss.

"Hey Joe."

"Hey BB [I used his real name.]Question, you said we do or do not have four inch arbor weights at the shop?"

"We do. They are in the storage sheds. The back one, like the third building over, but on the back it that makes sense?"

"Oh, where we keep the scaffold."

"Exactly. The code is the same as the code for the lock box at the shop."

"Okay, and what about 280 track? Is that here or at the job site?"

"Oh, shit. I forgot about that. That should be in the shop. What van is there?" As I was talking to him I walked over to the area it would be in. There it was. In all it's fucking glory. My shoulders sank a little. The Marine dude was long gone and sure as hell Debbie was not going to help me. She might have wanted to help me slide some track, but it was not that kind of track.

"The Sprinter van."

"Okay, those can travel down the middle of the van. They will fit."

"Okay. I see the tracks."

"Okay, and those arbor shoes are in my office, by the keys."

"Okay."

"Anything else?"

"Nah, I think I got it, thanks."

"Okay, good luck this week."

I walked back to the offices. Found the boxes with the arbor hardware and something else that said Albany High School. I took those to the van. Put them inside. Went back inside looking for a grinder. Could not find one. Grabbed some C16 just in case I needed to cut cable. The electric suager. Took those back to the van. Grabbed the two smaller pieces of track. Took those to the van. Came back. Looked down at the track. Sighed. Said "Fuck it." They were packaged together. 20 feet long, or maybe 21 feet long. Possibly 22 feet long, I couldn't remember what they make them these days. I decided to try and carry them as a two-piece. I mean, I knew they weren't heavy, they were just long as fuck. I picked them up in the middle. Had to do a turn around maneuver to get them closer to the door. Then do another turnaround maneuver to get them out the door. Nearly knocking everything in a 10-11 foot radius around me. I looked up when I was doing this. Debbie was looking at me, locking the door to the office. I mean, I didn't really expect her to help me, but it was salty wounds to see her watching me do this. She couldn't have thought that was something normal. But in the nature of corporate work the phrase "Not my job" really has a special meaning.

I managed to get them out the door without clearing the shelves and decimating the receiving desk by the entrance. I got outside. Like an idiot, the idiot that I am, instead of trusting my instincts, knowing they would not fit, I tried to slide them under the job box and down the middle of the Sprinter van. Of course they got stuck. Of course the didn't fit. Of course I had to take them out and remove the packaging. Of course I had to lean them against the van. Of course I had to get up on top of the van. Of course I had to strap them down. I mean, I was a sweaty dog at this point. Annoyed as hell by my idiocy and lack of help. I was also annoyed that it was now getting late. And, the worst part of all of it, I was making minimum wage doing this shit. More proof that the harder you work the less you will be paid. I mean, bullshit! But I did it. I had to do it. There was no other option. I mean, there was one option, which I think is going to be an option tomorrow anyway, I will have to go back to the shop. A two hour drive in total. Because after I did that, I could not find the hardware for the tracks. It was nowhere to be found. I mean, fuck. I forgot a harness! But that shouldn't be a problem. There is no scissors lift work, so I should be okay, but still. Fuck. Maybe there is one in the van.

I said "Fuck it," and locked the door. Got into the van. Drove over to Junior Mint. Grabbed my stuff. Put it in the van. Locked the car. Got back in the van. Drove over to the storage units. Parked next to the one with the stage weights and scaffold. Slid open the door. There was a giant pile of tires in front of the stage weights. I could have moved it, but I didn't. I just reached around grabbing weights. Throwing them into a pile by the door. Smelling tires the whole time I was doing this. I think I grabbed 15 weights. I didn't know how many I needed. Pipe weight at least for now. I thought 15 would be enough. And one 1/2 weight. You only ever need one. Per arbor. Which has always confused me as to why they always get a million of the little things. You never ever need two because two is just a regular weight. A full brick. If you need two, you just take the 1/2 brick off and put a full brick on. I mean, okay, you need two for every arbor. Just in case you need a 1/2 brick for the pipe weight that is going to be permanent and then you need a 1/2 brick for temporary rigging. Maybe the idea is that you lose a few along the way? I don't know. I am sure Scott will bloviate me about this tomorrow, so I will have an answer for you tomorrow, but at this moment, and many other moments in my career, this has always confused me, maybe I am missing something.

I loaded the pile of stage weights into the back of the van. Took my Future Abe’s and leather gloves off. Put them in my bag. Shut the door. Went around the front of the van. Took a leak. Got into the van, put the address of the hotel into my phone. Tried to get the charger to work. I mean, of course I was on zero battery. Fucking phones. They cause more harm than they help. They really fucking do. Remember when you would print out directions? What ever happened to that? And don't give me that we are saving trees bullshit. As someone that lives in Vermont, that takes every bit of paper trash and separates it from the other trash, we aren't saving shit. We use more paper and plastic on a daily basis that you could choke a dolphin with a woodpecker every single day and still not keep up with the amount of useless trash we produce. I mean, twice today I got fucked with my phone. And twice there was a very simple solution. I mean, I have a Vermont map. A very intricate one. Had I just pulled over and thoughtfully looked at the map, my Long Swamp adventure would have been a non-issue, but I didn't. And the reason I didn't was because of "Convenience." My phone would save me, I just needed to get to higher ground. I mean, when it dawned on me that I had a map and I could have saved myself about 20 minutes of panic and confusion, I mean, that is why I bought the fucking map in the first place. But usually there is someone like Professor Curly giving me directions and keeping track of things, but nooooo! She is down in the City shooting movies with Hollywood movie stars, eating Shake Shack and having a good time. And here I am, all alone, against all odds, boot-strapping my way through life at minimum fucking wage. It makes you want to go berserk!

I will say, I don't know why the charger cords I keep buying are pure crap. I don't know what to do about it. I mean, last night, the tip of one literally broke off when I was going to use it. Luckily it didn't get stuck in the hole, but that is bullshit. I just bought it. Like two weeks ago. And it never worked right in the first place. I mean, have no problem buying one that is quality, but how the fuck do you know? They all cost basically the same amount. They look the same. I mean, imagine if it was an extension cord? You would never agree to that bullshit. Two weeks and it just breaks. Never worked to begin with. I mean, I understand that it is a racket. I accept that it is a racket. But a racket to this degree? I mean, when someone finally sues these fuckers in like a class action thing, I am getting on that fucking list. I want my money back! I mean, at this point, when I realized that my phone would just not charge, I looked at the map. Found my exit. I mean, I have done this enough times that I was going to find where I was going, I just wasn't sure which exit it was. And that was that. I mean, fine, sure, whatever! I should have done that in the first place, but that is the problem with these fucking phones. You have this false sense of security, and then when things start to go to shit, suddenly it is an absolute shit-show! For no reason. I mean, they solve the problem that they create. It is so infuriating. I mean, I tried. I tried my hardest to resist. I did. I had a flip phone until August of 2020. But then, fucking Vermont. I couldn't use the fucker. So Mimi, bless her heart, she gave me her old one because she got a new one, and now I am here. Blasting off into space with irritation. Thanks a lot, Mimi! Just joking, I love you, it's not your fault, I blame Dejoy. Impeach that beach. You know that asshole is still in charge of the USPS. The same guy that slowed mail down during a pandemic in order to hopefully keep people from voting against Trump. The motherfucker used the Postal Service to try and rig and election and he is still working at his fucking job. As the boss! But don't worry, no one really cares about this shit, because, I don't know, gas prices?

Anyhoodles dressed in noodles, I made it to the hotel just fine. Sorry, I have been trying out these new idioms because Agustin sent me this link to this Noir fiction writer guy called Dan Turner that writes things like:

“I could see the sudden surge of her gorgeous watchacallems under her fawn frock. I commenced shaking her until her thingumbobs jiggled like mounds of aspic in an earthquakes.”

Boobs. He is talking about boobs. And the detective shaking some dame by the shoulders and seeing her boobs bounce around. I mean, that is funny as shit. I don't know if it is good for Society or not, but still, I mean, I watched a whole Scottish sitcom, all the episodes, the entire run of the thing, just because there was this one scene in one of the first episodes a guy puts a lady in a headlock. I mean, I know that is not cool, violence, especially against women is a huge fucking problem in our culture, and it is nothing to laugh about, but the reason the lady got put in the headlock was not because the guy was trying to hurt her, he just didn't want her to go up to the roof and see what he was doing up there. I mean, it would be the equivalent of the lady kicking the guy in the balls. Which, I don't know if they are exactly equal, but from a comedic standpoint, I would say that they are. My point is, don't put anyone in a headlock. Or kick anyone in the balls. But if you need to make a point in your sitcom writing, I say go for it. Context is key.

But the idea of shaking someone by the shoulders and watching her boobs bounce. It's weird and it's stupid and it's funny in a very dark way. I mean, Noir is not for everyone.

I mean, I guess that is all. I have to get up at 5a tomorrow. Go to the racist job site. Be there by 7a. I am not sure what I am going in to. I have the badges. Who knows what kind of mess there is on the stage. I am basically here to help the electricians run power to the electrics. To add weight when they are done doing what they need to do. It was supposed to be just me and Scott. Now it is just me and Sally. I don't think she will be racist. Her racism is basically age related racism, not the virulent MAGA racism that has been rotting Society for the last 50 years or whatever. 100 years. Her racism is more of a Status Quo racism that goes unnoticed unless you are not White. Using words that shouldn't be used kind of thing. You know? Grandma's racism. Not your Grand papa's KKK robes racism. I mean, I don't really think she means ill will, she just refuses to change. And, I mean, I have no idea what to do about it. I mean, I will say, that since it is just she and I, me and her, if she pulls any shit I will be able to address it. with her, alone. I mean, that is the biggest problem with these assholes, you get a bunch of them together and they think they can do whatever the hell they want to do. If you get them alone, they kind of keep it to themselves.

I mean, we will see. I won't say I am excited for tomorrow. I was excited for tomorrow because I was going to go see G after work. Take them to dinner, but they have come down with a fever. Not sure if it is Covid or not, So those plans are now quashed. But I will probably have to go back to the shop anyway after work, so who knows, maybe it is better. The idea of not being able to see G because I have to go to the shop instead makes me want to quit this job and never ever do it again. How is that for being dramatic?

Anyway. Catch you on the flip-side. Jiggle your tits for me if you get a sec. AYEC.