[91] Screed City

[91]

02/03/2022. Thursday. Ironing Table. Room 412. Holiday Inn. Hamburg, New York.

We did it! Well, kind of. We still need to go to the jobsite tomorrow morning. Take down the tormentors. Load out. Oh, and bring in the Unistrut. But that is just four sticks of the stuff. I mean, my body is sore as hell. I need a shave. My fingernails need to be cut. But I think everything worked out just fine. The snow today was bad, but not too bad. Slow going, but no incidents. The job site was about 90F though. For some reason. Somebody broke the thermostat. They tried to blame us. Which, I mean, I am not saying that we weren't capable of breaking it, but we didn't. It was funny though that Kev's first instinct was to blame us. Then he went looking for someone else to blame. Also, some other Peanut Gallery type came around, told us to be careful about the stage, that sure, they were going to refinish it, but that didn't mean that we should be making huge gouges in it. Which we were not doing. He just happened to walk onto the stage when a loud noise happened. I mean, whatever. That is the kind of job we all need. Just walk around and make some idiot observation and tell people to straighten up and fly right and then walk away. Maybe come back three days later and do the same. I mean, Kev told me this story about this insurance lady that was watching him fix this thing this one time. Her whole job was to just make sure nobody was fucking with the thing that Kev was uninstalling. Then she put a tag on it. Went to the hotel. Came back in the morning and watched them put it into a truck and then put a tag on the truck and then left. I mean, that is an IDEAL job. Just watching people work. I mean, I guess the thing must have triggered some pretty hefty insurance money thing otherwise they wouldn't have sent her. But, I mean, my guess is that is all she ever did. I mean, she sounded like she was very good at her job. I mean, it must take a lot of focus to just watch schlubs like Kev or me work all day without, I don't know, walking around the space inspecting more interesting things. Like when I got accused of being a mondo creep that one job a few months ago. Sketchy as hell, they called me.

[insert stage picture]

Fucking Connie, that is what Conrad has become known as now. I mean, he is not a Conrad at all. I mean, he is either Rad or Connie. Not that I am trying to feminize him or whatever. I mean, I am not calling him a sissy or something from the Patriarchy. But, I mean, he just isn't a Conrad. And aside from being a space cadet and kind of not that bright, he does actually know how to work. But that fucker, nobody was watching him when me and Jayboo were up in the air yesterday and today. I mean, he just threw everything into a giant pile on the floor in front of the apron. Which, I mean if anyone knows about stuff at all, when you throw heavy metal things on top of long wire rope things you just end up with a giant tangled rats nest of frustration. I mean, I did my best to shame him about it. But he doesn't respond to shame. So, I mean, I just hope he paid a little attention to all the criticism and next time he won't pull that bullshit. I mean, he probably added at least an extra hour of really shitty work to our day today. I mean, at least he isn't Squirts is really all I can say about it.

[insert truck picture]

It was snowing the whole time we were loading the truck. Typical, right? I mean, moving day. The work was tedious and heavy and dirty and loud and sharp and ugly. We first had to undo all of Connie's nonsense. Then we had to load that onto the truck. Then the arbors. Then the loft blocks and head blocks. Then all the stage weight. Then we all drove back to the hotel. Me and Connie got into the Box Truck. Jayboo driving. We drove into Buffalo proper. Went to the scrap yard. Spent an hour unloading the truck. Which was harder than loading it. I mean, there was a lot more bending over and the space was smaller. Because all three of us were in there. They weighed us going in. They weighed us going out. Jayboo went inside to get us paid. I wish I would have gone with him. He said he told the woman with large breasts behind the desk, the one that gave him the money, that we were heading to Red Lobster if she wanted to come. She didn't think he was funny. When he told us this story after getting back into the truck, I said:

"You realize that every single asshole that goes into that place says the same shit to her, right?" Still, he thought it was funny. And it was funny. Because, I mean, you get a sweet pay day and then you ask out the big breasted woman behind the desk. And your selling point is Red Lobster? It was kind of comedy gold. But, I mean, the actual gold. We had 15,000 lbs of steel on that truck. $.10 cents a lb. That is $1,500 bucks, dineros, greenbacks. I mean, that is $500 bucks a peice we scored just from doing three hours of work. In cash. Not a bad haul! I mean, plus the $65 an hour we were making. I mean, that is a grand total of basically $700 dollars for three hours of work! $233 an hour. And we aint no lawyers over here. Finally my GED is paying off!

[insert scrap yard picture]

I mean, I was expecting $100 dollars. Max. But I was very wrong. I mean, after that we went into downtown Buffalo to get the Unistrut. When we got there there was a Canadian guy behind the counter that was very nice. He was quite concerned about how we were going to get the Unistrut into the back of the Box Truck. At that point we started to realize there was a little bit of a miscommunication. He thought we were buying 80 sticks of 20 foot Unistrut. Which, I mean, that is a lot of Unistrut. Like four pallets worth or something. I mean, it would have fit easily in the back of the truck, but it would have sucked getting it on there. I mean, that is like enough Unistrut for an entire I don't even know, rebuild of a school or something? I mean, Jayboo had to call the BIg Boss to sort things out. And the whole reason we were even going there to pick it up was to save $800 dollars in shipping costs. I mean, considering the miscommunication, that bill seemed pretty big for what we actually needed. Meaning, 80 linear feet of Unistrut. I mean, something was very wrong, but I guess because of how shipping is working right now the Big Boss just accepted it? I mean, but $800 bucks to ship four sticks of Unistrut? I mean, no offense to the Big Boss, but that is ludicrous. But business is business, I suppose. Either way, it got figured out. The nice Canadian guy helped me load the four sticks of Unistrut into the Box Truck and we hauled ass back to the hotel. On the way Jayboo had some thoughts about James Bond and Cancel Culture. I tried to point out that nobody is cancelling James Bond, it is just outdated and needs to appeal to younger audiences. It is only about money, nothing else. But he wouldn't hear it. He just kept saying that the story is the story. If you want a film about a woman or a Black man being James Bond you should just make a movie about a woman or a Black man being James Bond. At that point I gave up. There was no point. I mean, no offense to Jayboo, he really is not a bad faith actor in the scheme of things, but he really is the kind of guy that thinks that the issue with bathrooms and Transgender "Politics" is just about bathrooms. I mean, the same dude that will say shit like "The second they take your freedom away you will never get it back." Is the same dude that will say "What does it matter? Just use a single use bathroom if you don't want to cause a stir." I mean, it is not even that he is missing the point entirely, he also thinks that taking freedom away from some people is okay as long as it coincides with his feelings about it. Which, I mean, the world must be pretty scary to him if that is his thinking. But, I am not worried about Jayboo. He has a child that identifies as They. And as much as he resists it now, he will eventually come around. As annoying as his thoughts are now, they are not long for this world. And he can really have his thoughts. I don't fucking care. He isn't standing in picket lines in Alambama or wherever making the world intolerable for people just trying to live their lives. But, I mean, I think he will fight it until the last second he can. Which, I mean, whatever. I respect his "Fuck You" attitude. I just wish it was coming from the other side. And the youths in the world will one day take over the world and poor Jayboo will either get on board or he will just be some old crank with a half-open mind writing screeds about how the kids these days just don't know how good they have it. What the hell do they have to complain about? Shit, in my day, we didn't even have bathrooms. And if you wanted to use one, you had to put a full days work in first. And then they would charge you for toilet paper. I mean, he did start talking about Classic Rock after nobody engaged him with his "The world is changing and I don't like it," rant. Which led him to talk about this song:

[insert Accept video]

Connie was not in the breakfast nook today. He showed up late to the job site. But, I called it! He just passed out the second he got to his hotel room last night. Then he over-slept. I should have been able to call that too, but I forgot about what it is like to be in your early 30's. When you get a good sleep going, it is hard to let it go. I mean, he was just so tuckered out. It was hard for him to wake up. Poor guy. I mean, here is the way I have to write in this place:

[insert ironing board picture]

I mean, my entire body is a big stiff mess. I have this wonderful experience every morning when I get out of bed and walk to the bathroom naked. There is a full length mirror. I mean, it is out of a movie or something. I am this middle-aged man lugging around this middle-aged body. Getting up before sunlight. Just trying to hold my shit together. Wondering why I didn't sleep very well. Wondering what the day is going to bring. Wondering what deal I made with what devil that brought me here. How I am going to keep my shit together for just one more day. I mean, I feel like a murderer or something. Doing some bargain basement crime just to get enough money to pay my alimony bills. I mean, it is dark, but also kind of funny. I mean, one more day. Just one more day. And things will finally come together for me. I will pay off that cheating ex and the government will stop garnering my paychecks. Then, maybe I can get my shit together and finally move down to Florida. Open a little crab shack on the beach. Maybe spend the afternoons surfing. Put this all behind me. But, before I can do any of that, I have to do this one last job. And I don't know it yet, but shit is about to go very sideways for me. Things will happen that I have no way to anticipate. And it will all blow up in my face in the end. And I will deserve whatever is coming to me because I was never any good at anything to begin with. I mean, the end of the scene is me putting my jacket on and turning the hotel room lights off. Walking out into the hallway. The door shuts. And I realize I have forgotten my wallet. With the room key in it. But I don't have time to go to the front desk. And then, like everything else in my life, this tiny mistake will lead to bigger and bigger mistakes that eventually lead to my downfall. I mean, it is pretty dark and depressing, but that is how it feels in the hotel room in the mornings. There is just too much time alone, combined with too much tiredness and not enough sleep. I mean, the one thing that holds these kinds of stories together is the one thing that makes it dark in the first place. There is no turning back. Every single decision you have made if your life has led exactly to this point. And that thing that is simple, that forgetting your wallet or whatever, I mean, it was never about that, but god-damnit! How did shit get so fucked up to become this way in the first place? I mean, I guess this is just a thought experiment of sorts, but because it lives in real time in real life, I mean, when you are in your 60's being in you 40's is young. I mean, if in 20 years I wake up in a hotel room and look at myself naked in the full length mirror and slowly and deliberately get myself ready for work. Work that is brutal and unforgiving and depressing. I mean, and I will look back at myself in my 40's as a young man? I mean, ouch! It is not depressing because it is possible, it is depressing because it is true. I mean, I need to write something that really takes off. I mean, take this shit seriously for once. I mean, I at least need to try. Otherwise I am looking in a mirror of not only who I am now, big, beastly and bulging, but a mirror of who I will become. Tired, flaccid and beaten down. I mean, noir without jokes is just a haircut without a towel wrapped around your shoulders. A pointless itch that has too many reasons for itching. Nobody cares for a character when he is just an idiot all the time for no reason. You know?

Butwhatever. I think I will eat some pizza and then maybe shower. Or not. I haven't decided. Tomorrow morning will be alright. Then the five and a half hour drive back to the shop. I have set up my phone to play the Donkey tapes. So that will be good. Then, who knows. I don't know what the roads in Vermont will be like tomorrow. It is supposed to snow all day tomorrow. There. I mean, maybe I will get to Brandon and have to turn around. Go down South? Come around up VT 4? I don't really know. I mean, I am hoping we get back to the shop by mid-afternoon. Then, I guess, then, I will have some daylight left to drag my ass back to Beaver Haus. Assuming the pipes haven't burst and the place hasn't burned down with all of my ironed money inside. I mean, it is Vermont. There is a possibility that the electricity will fail and the internet will break and I will have to spend the night in Junior Mint with the heater blaring and the idiot goats bleating at me until I get so frustrated that I move them into the car so they will shut the fuck up. And then in the morning I can put the snow shoes on and walk to the Compound. Where Scott and the Publisher and Grit will be eating the last of the pancakes, the syrup hoses having been redirected to the Trailer Manor. Saying:

"Oh, sorry, we weren't expecting company. There is some Squeewkill Tootsie Rolls if you are hungry." And then they will just laugh and laugh and laugh. And then Lovey dog will hump my leg and fart out a cat turd fart.