I hate concrete
Just out of college and with no prospects for a job, I accepted a relative’s offer to work on his construction crew. He would allow me to time off to interview for jobs and paid me much more than I was worth since I had no experience. Sounds great, right? Factor in it was Dallas in July and August. Then add in that I probably weighed all of 140 pounds, too small and not strong enough to handle a lot of what I was expected to do.
After a few days on the job I was sunburned and dehydrated. I had trouble getting out of bed because I was too sore to move. What wasn’t bruised just plain hurt. Needless to say, this was one of my biggest incentives to find an indoor job as fast as I could. The thing I hated most was concrete. Especially if I was off the ground when it was poured—I still remember what the lime tastes like. And there is something special about handling rebar when it has been in the 100+ degree sun all day.
I have displayed the hard hat I wore at that job in every cubicle or office I’ve worked. It still has some flecks of concrete on it. No matter how bad things are at work, I am reminded that it could always be worse. A lot worse.
The guys I worked with were all extremely nice and I have a greater appreciation for construction workers now. While these guys were great, their finances were a set-up for diaster. Payroll checks were cashed at liquor stores. Their idea of a savings account was uncashed checks tucked away in their wallet. A checking account was unheard of among them. (To their credit, they moved around a lot and Texas had archaic banking laws at the time that would have made having one very difficult.)
I wonder what has become of those guys. Have their bodies given out yet? Are they still puttering around at job sites? It has been 20+ years and many of the guys would be retired by now—what can that be like for someone with no savings?
As much as I hated that time, I learned a lot from that experience and it still impacts me today. This stroll down amnesia lane has been brought to you by a blue hard hat that I had to move to get to some files.
After a few days on the job I was sunburned and dehydrated. I had trouble getting out of bed because I was too sore to move. What wasn’t bruised just plain hurt. Needless to say, this was one of my biggest incentives to find an indoor job as fast as I could. The thing I hated most was concrete. Especially if I was off the ground when it was poured—I still remember what the lime tastes like. And there is something special about handling rebar when it has been in the 100+ degree sun all day.
I have displayed the hard hat I wore at that job in every cubicle or office I’ve worked. It still has some flecks of concrete on it. No matter how bad things are at work, I am reminded that it could always be worse. A lot worse.
The guys I worked with were all extremely nice and I have a greater appreciation for construction workers now. While these guys were great, their finances were a set-up for diaster. Payroll checks were cashed at liquor stores. Their idea of a savings account was uncashed checks tucked away in their wallet. A checking account was unheard of among them. (To their credit, they moved around a lot and Texas had archaic banking laws at the time that would have made having one very difficult.)
I wonder what has become of those guys. Have their bodies given out yet? Are they still puttering around at job sites? It has been 20+ years and many of the guys would be retired by now—what can that be like for someone with no savings?
As much as I hated that time, I learned a lot from that experience and it still impacts me today. This stroll down amnesia lane has been brought to you by a blue hard hat that I had to move to get to some files.
posted by Dwight at
9:36 AM
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