Call it fate, call it luck, call it what you will, but less than one day after my jobless diatribe I now have a job. It's not a bartending job, that would make too much sense. I'm now going to be Boston's latest addition to the blue-coller world of construction. Honestly, I know nothing about construction or even what I'm constructing. I know it's in Charlestown, pays $100 a day, starts early, and it's REAL work.
Working with your hands outside definitely has its benefits. It's got to be kind of rewarding to make something tangible and useful, rather than destroying livers and and involuntarily listening to degenerates rant and rave. Then again, I'm not your typical dirt-under-your-nails type of guy. I guess I'm going to have to break down some of my stereotypes of who these guys are and how they work.
Typically, my experience with construction workers comes from working the day shifts at my old bar, The Linwood. Most of them would come in at 11:30am, drink 5 or 6 beers in a half-hour, sexually harass any form of a female who would walk by, and curse like a sailor. So far, not too far off from how me and my friends act on a Friday night.
The gig starts Monday morning, and my first tasks will be to mix cement, lift buckets, and sweep. In my new boss' words, "You're going to be my bitch. But it's not so bad, cause I like you". I'll take that as a compliment. Well, I'll just take take that as it is. Six years of college and a bachelor's degree later, and I'm now a bitch laborer in Charlestown. Honestly, I couldn't be happier.
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