Thursday, 6 August 2009


You know you're in for it when the guy sent to help you do your job, says this sentence.......
"Am I here to rip out these stupid looking rocks?"

That might not be a deal-breaking phrase, if you hadn't spent the past two days installing those stupid looking rocks.
Not everybody sees things as we see them.
I've been working with machine operators long enough to know two things.
They can do their job better than I can.

The end.

Machine operators arent exactly a romantic artsy-fartsy bunch, if you know what I mean.
Getting "Scary" or "the Shirt Nazi" or Bill (no, thats not a real name, thats an acronym for Brother In Law), to understand WHY the rock HAS to be tilted "just so" is a difficult task.
Even worse, when you can hear him on his nextel radio saying to the other not so artsy fartsy people he talks to "yeah, I'm stuck here puttin deese stooput friggin rocks in dis stooput dirt like da guy wants me to. I said we should just make a friggin wall, but hes a goddam goofball who wants to do it all crooked and stuff..."

Ah hell, I dont mind anymore.

My boss should give me a raise just for dealing with all this.
He gets to be all artsy fartsy with the clients and the architects, and I gotta DO the artsy fartsy stuff, with guys who think artsy fartsy stuff is gay (not that theres anything wrong with that.............).
AND, I do it with Frank Sinatra or Michael Buble on my MP3.

Oh, you should have seen the guy rip his nextel out when I told him I was listening to Michael Buble'. I think he sprained his wrist................

The operator is good at what he does.
And......................if you need some really big rocks put in your yard, to look like they were put there by glacier movments, and if you can tolerate some goofy (albeit strangely attractive) guy waving at maching operators telling them...............
"NO! 6 inches THIS way!!!"

Then I'm your guy.
Hey. Theres a nitch.

For whatever reason, I'm doing what I'm doing. Mostly I'm assuming its for not finishing college but all other things being considered, we're doing ok here.

I gave up trying to explain to family and relatives and friends at parties and social gatherings, so
"yeah, I cut grass" is what I tell them.
What, you think Joe the computer programmer can comprehend that someone pays me to stands in their yard and put rocks there!?
Yeah thats it.
Trust me, its easier to say "I cut grass"

But I really like meeting artsy fartsy types.
For a few reasons.
Mainly, because most artsy fartsy types are women,and if you scroll back to the hockey locker room joke, you'll understand what that means.
Secondly, because I can finally TALK to them about STUFF.
Stuff we can relate to.
Its hard to relate to people who respond to your words with *blink*. Machine operators blink a lot.
I bet accountants blink like a frickin strobe light.

I kinda stare off into the distance.
Especially when my boss is talking to me.
But thats a different kind of blink.
Poor guy (my boss, I mean).
Imagine yourself being in a position of responsibility and reputation, and having some (albeit strangely attractive) goofball staring off into the distance watching butterflies or chemtrails or whateverthehell shiny object happens to flutter into his mind, be the ONLY thing between YOU, and the clients check!?!?
He gets all detailed and specific and stuff, and I tell him, "just grab me by the shoulders and point me in the general direction......................."
You'd think after 20 some years, he'd get it by now. Nope. Fat chance. He's STILL trying to get me to be "normal".

No, we are what we are, and the best we can hope for is for some reluctant machine operator, to say at the end of the day,
"hey, I hope I can do this again sometime. I get what you are doing now, and its pretty good............."

I'm telling you, rewards NEVER come when of from where you are expecting them.

But they come.

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