It must be so great to work with your hands…
the wages of sin and construction
Yeah, I am a lot of things .
One of those things is a carpenter. I’ve been one for a good number of years now and it never ceases to amaze me how ridiculous some folks can be. As an apprentice, I used to be eager to mention that I was a carpenter but now I just steer as clear as possible of those introductory “O what do you do?” conversations. Putting aside the whole work-as-life assumption implicit in the question, it is inevitable that I’ll have to wade through the same gauntlet of stupid shit: “Oh it must be so great to work with your hands.” “God, I wish I got to work in the fresh air.” “At the end of the day, you actually get to see what you have accomplished…”
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck you and the ergonomic chair you rode in on.
That’s like me saying to some keyboard jockey “Oh, I’m a big fan of sitting down and coffee machines. Your job must be great.” “Walking around your job without falling through a hole in the floor onto some rebar must be awesome!” See, I can’t really peg your jobs with a smarmy comment or two because I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT IS LIKE IN AN OFFICE and I DON’T ASSUME A BUNCH OF SHIT ABOUT YOUR LIFE BECAUSE I HAVE WATCHED THIS OLD HOUSE A COUPLE OF TIMES.
When you picture my day in your mind and see simple men doing an honest days work, the salt of the earth heaving that load, lifting that bale, raising that wall in the sunshine like a bunch of sturdy Amish; beer loving cowboys cutting, making, and building a brave new world for you and me, you must have been thinking of a day like yesterday when I was up two stories, walking on the rafters, custom cutting a roof in the sunshine. Today I’m on my ass in the mud repairing crap that a stoned termite carpenter screwed up 4 years ago. It’s raining, I’ve ripped the crotch of my Carhartts, I have to spend half my day in the crawlspace rolling in piles of catshit, the bosses have screwed up payroll, and I just tagged my thumb with a chisel. Either way, either day, I am essentially spending a chunk of my life building equity into the homes of the wealthy.
At least with the rain I have a a frog keeping me company out there in the ivy.
I know you dumbasses are just trying to relate and I really should just lighten up. It’s just small talk and not all of you cube farmers are idiots. As a matter of fact, most of the IT maestros that I know (and that have never said stupid shit like the above) came out of construction – go figure. But it’s not that being a carpenter sucks: I’ve taken this path for a whole host of reasons. It’s being assumptive, boring and unthinking that truly sucks. So take your classist – ‘grass is greener’- workaday – live for the weekend bullshit and stick it up your ass. [Hear Me Now cuz here’s The Rub: ALL BOSSES MUST BE HUMORED, THE ‘GOOD JOB’ IS A BOURGEOIS MYTH and ALL WAGE SLAVERY IS SLAVERY. Grrrrrrr… Snarlll….]
Say whatever. Believe whatever you want. Be a Nazi. Be a Satanist, an evangelical Baptist, junkie nihilist, write D&D erotic fan-fiction… whatever. Have whatever opinion humanly possible and spew away. All I ask is that you use your brain a little before you say something to me. It’s a lot to ask, I know, but I’m gonna keep demanding it no matter what. I certainly don’t know everything about all things but –
What was that, Mr. Frog?… Ah yes, there are more things on heaven and earth than are dreamed of in our simple philosophy… I will call you “Horatio,” Mr. Frog… and if there is anything I like, Horatio, it’s a frog that knows his Shakespeare…
Oh shit. I’ve been chatting with a frog…
Whoops. Left the cap off the glue can. Heh.