Sunday, November 21, 2010

Do I have to go?

Did the unthinkable yesterday. I worked on a Saturday. Now I know what some of you are already thinking. It's either, I work every Saturday asshole, what's the big effin deal? Or it's But you just told us you love your job, so again, what's the big effin deal? But I wasn't working my for my new boss, I was moonlighting. Only the moon wasn't out. I spent a day painting for a friend. Yea, he paid me, that's why I did it, mostly, I needed the money. But then, on a day filled with the unimaginable, horror struck twice. Tired after a long work week, denied the Saturday morning pleasures of being a complete loaf with remote in one hand and scratching with the other, I went out that night.

Oh the utter horror! Well, why didn't I just stay at home then? The thought had crossed my mind several times. But in the end it was one of those times. You know, those times when you know what you want to do and what you have to do are two completely different things. You see, it was my sister-in-laws birthday, and the wife didn't want to go alone. Now I love all my sister-in-laws equally and without bias, but really? The couch looked so darned good yesterday. It was calling to me, not unlike a wanting mermaid on a rocky outcrop at sea calling to the lonely sailor. Usually I am content to let the girls be girls and have a drunken night of bar hopping all to their own, the wife sleeping over as I am too senile now to drag around behind her shouting "Can we go yet?" over and over like some parrot with a set of car keys. But last night, she really wanted me to go with her, and promised me she would be tucking me in by 11:00. And I knew the SIL would like me their too. So I did what I had to do. I went.

We had fun, don't get me wrong. Nice dinner and a few yucks. (Although I did manage to play the wet blanket when the group tried in vain to drag me past my bed time to a Karaoke bar. I am not against going to a Karaoke bar. I like to sing. I sing a lot. In the car, on the job, with the band, sing, sing, sing, that's me. But it wasn't me last night. Moral obligations do have their limits. It's not like they wouldn't have any fun without me.) But really, I went because it was one of those family obligations that bind us together like duct tape. You have to suck it up, and do something for someone else. Why? Why must we put aside our selfishness for the sake of someone else? Because it lets that person know that you care. That you care about something else other than yourself. That you would sacrifice one night of your life to make them happy. It's not about you. It's about them.

So, young kiddies, lies the moral of today's epitaph. If you want people to do something for you, because you are so special, than show them you are so special by doing something for them, even if you don't want to. Even if you are tired and just want to lie on the couch and watch the Northwestern/Illini game at Wrigley Field that you taped going all day without hearing the score. Even if you have to drive all night through a blizzard with no gas and a broken arm fending off crazed wildebeests knowing all the while you have to work the next morning. Just do it. Take that Nike.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Take this job and love it.

So how do you like your job? Do you really like it at all? Do you actually hate it? Would you rather be doing something else? Would you rather stick red hot knitting needles into your nostrils than get out of bed most mornings? Me? I don't. I think I really like my job.

At first, I am sure, it was the fascination of actually working again for a steady paycheck. But now? Last week I worked 51 hours. Fifty-one. That might not seem a lot to you, or it might be a normal week for you. But for me, I just worked one of the longest work weeks of my life, and when I was done, I didn't hate my job.

For 21 years I was spoiled working 35 hour weeks (getting paid for 40), standing at a desk on the phone. This week, I was on an elevated steel platform putting solar panels on a car charging station, I put a wind turbine on the side of a school in Wheaton, 65 feet in the air in a boom, and spent the remaining 3 days putting up 9 more said turbines at Cermak Mall in Berwyn (ow, Ow, OW!), previous home to the famous "Spindle" (a stack of junked cars that looked like an auto shish kabob). Oh, and each one weighs 624 lbs, not including the 5 foot extension that adds at least another hundred lbs or so. And all the wiring. My fingers feel like the devil took sandpaper to them. This is the life of a Solar and Wind energy installer.

But. I like it. I like the fact that I am somewhere else every day. Doing something a little different than the day before. I like spending hours in the shop cutting metal, drilling metal, bolting metal. It's like I am playing with giant erector sets. Except when I'm done, I go put them on somebody's roof. And my toy on the roof harnesses natures energy and gives them a break on their electric bill. It is almost like, now what's the word...job satisfaction. At the end of the day, you've made your little mark on the world. A far cry from my old career. You try working the trading floors of Chicago half your life, coming home at the end of the day and actually feeling like you've accomplished something. Now I get it. Now I know that feeling I had all those years. All the work I did. All the commuting to that hell in the city. All the yelling and screaming. It meant nothing. There is nothing at all that I can look at and say, "that meant something." But now, when I go home, I really feel like I made a small difference. And you know what? It's a good feeling.

Maybe you are a doctor. Must be a lot of feelings of accomplishment in that. Unless you spend your days lancing boils of the asses of 85 year old men. Or maybe you are a painter. I was for a while. I always felt good leaving someones house knowing that they were happy, the walls looked great, and that scratch you made on the floor was hidden under a rug. Or maybe you are a drug dealer. Your twisted mind tells you when you go to bed at night that you changed a few lives that day. Ahhh, that's a good feeling. But if your job sucks, I mean really, deep down, soul searching, God fearing, I would rather shove red hot knitting needles into my nostrils sucks, then get out before it is too late. Do something to make you feel better. It will change your life for the better. It did for me. Unless, that is, you make like massive six figures or more, then, well, never mind.