14 posts tagged “construction”

You'd think that once you're unemployed you'd have to worry about work quite a lot, right?

Not for me!

I don't really know how people regard me, but two days after I'd told everyone I'd be happily unemployed for the whole duration of the summer holidays, job offers started pouring over me.

From my friends.

I got four offers within three days, two of which I actually took up the offer on, seeing as they were one day gigs that'd probably pay pretty well.

The first gig was last Sunday: some couple wanted to whack up a patio where they'd used to have a garage, but destroying the foundation had been too big of a problem for their first contractor, so they needed a real professional...

Well, since they couldn't find a real professional to do the job, I was called in by a friend of mine to go rip it apart, since concrete's my thing and I know the tools.

Ten hours, one broken sledge, a bent crowbar and a charred back later there was no trace of the old garage any longer, and I got a hefty few hundred €'s for it to boot. And most of all, it was fun as hell - c'mon, you gotta love demolition work!

The back got a pretty good sunburn, though, which I noticed in the shower while washing off all the dirt and grime. Word of advice: don't take a coarse brush to a scorched back, it hurts like the f**king Apocalypse. The tanline was awesome, though: picture a polar bear next to Red Square and you pretty much get the color difference.

The other job was working as a chauffeur for a bunch of salespeople: driving them to a golf course and getting their ( at least I'd expect) drunk behinds back home before work the next day.

I'd like to think that "escort service" would've been a more appropriate term for it.

Seriously, who plays a par-3 course with a bunch of semi-unknowns, has a fantastic dinner, socializes and barbecues on a "job"? Minus dropping the pants, I think I hit the term pretty damn close! AND I got paid for it!

I could seriously get to liking these gigs! A few days' work for a half month's pay sounds pretty effing A.

The next plan of action's gonna be a "tad" less glorious: going back to the parents to prepare for next week's military re-training.

But at least the state pays you for it.

... Not as good as the escort service, though...

For once I'm glad not having had to resort to more... questionable measures ( you wouldn't believe how fun it can be) when simple threats and persuasion just isn't enough. ( Who'd have thought that it'd actually be enough???)

Ladies and gentlemen - mostly ladies -... I have now not only found out that they do actually still make The Sofa, but after ( in my mind) far too little smooth-talkin' I was also able to persuade a local dealer to sell me one according to my requirements. We're naturally not talking about the price, since it'll probably be something between 'the whole shirt' and 'MY 'NADS!'. The final info I ( quite nicely, considering my usual attitude) asked for should be dropped off on Monday, so... well... Whe-hey!

See, it ties the room together, right?

Of course, we're still not talking about shipping times, either, so it may all end up being easier for me to go to Denmark myself and rob the manufacturers. A design-crime that'd make Dolce & Gabbana proud.

( Oh and Lies, really appreciate the offer to help!)

In other news, today was my last day at work. People had been asking me for the past few days if it felt melancholy in any way, seeing as I'd been working there since January.

Truth be told, it kinda did...

... since my paycheck'll stop coming in the mail.

Not that it was a very long last day, either; I jumped the gun and left before lunch. But I got to keep the clothes ( sexy construction worker, anyone?) and my coworker got all sentimental and handed me a half liter of vodka as a going-away present ( and that's pretty ***king sentimental for a construction worker). So here's to you, Markku - the next time I get shitfaced, I'll be thinking of you ( and if the vodka ends up being a close relative to sewage, you'll be finding your ass somewhere in Siberia, you belittling old f**k)*

Now it's off to spend the weekend in Helsinki, though considering what's planned, I'll either not be remembering it or I won't want to.

*We had a very healthy work-relationship. And if anyone dares to ask me whether I'm gay or not again, I'll personally come and show them where not even the rainbow shines.

While trying to come up with something remotely serious to rant about today ( mainly to get my mind off of ... things), I realized that today's actually the 28th. Nothing special with that per se, but being July it means that I've now held my job for a full half year.

The implications of that should not, of course, be instantaneously obvious to the rest of you, 'cept of course for the very good things it's been doing for my finances.

Apart from that, it means that I've got less than two weeks left before I finally quit, which means I'm a month away from finally starting my university-studies, which then again means that I finally need to move out - which means I'm scared absolutely shitless.

Not to say that I'm scared of moving out; far from it. The thing is that I'm still not quite sure what I'll be leaving behind ( both physically and emotionally) since I'm moving so ( relatively) far away.

Then again, maybe I shouldn't be worrying about that kind of stuff; maybe I should just do what regular people do: let it hit me in the dead of winter, forcing me to cower in the corner with nothing to comfort me except for a bucket of Phish Food and a feelgood-movie. Y'know, like any sane human being would?

And, I mean, let's be serious: I'll be meeting a whole lot of new people, I'll get to extensively explore the capital and I'm set for a job which promises little ol' overly ambitious me both a hefty paycheck and a good deal of power; if not, I'll be ripping both of those out from the spines of my fellow men, so you'd all be better off to offer me both from the get-go. Got it?

But other than being a day of slight existential crisis ( one in a line of many), today's also the unbeatable Suck that is Monday; more exactly, today's the Monday when most people at work come back from their holiday, which means my workload got cut to about ¼ of what I'd been forced to get used to during the time that they weren't at work - unfortunately, this also meant that the only foreman I honestly hate at work, also came back.

Not that I have a thing against the man, but if he keeps calling out "Hey, boy!" to me for much longer I'm seriously going to insert a 2-by-4 to his face at roughly 90mph.

*sigh* Oh well, back to watering the plants...

As ever, whenever I'd like to think that Life's starting to settle down, that I can anticipate the damn thing at least a month forward, that there shouldn't be any unexpected ... events to be ( un-)expected, Life turns into that giddy little 5-year old bastard that runs around going "WoooEEEEooooEEEooo", only to hide in an all too thick shrub, forcing me to go fetch it because it won't come out otherwise, ending up in Life kicking me so hard in the balls that I end up wheezing through my teeth while the little fuck runs of laughing.

( Could've gone with a shorter analogy, but Noooo...)

Among other things ( not going into the ramifications of the Parental Unit once again having gone on vacation, effectively leaving the house open for robbery, armed assault and/or spontaneous firestorms), today had me going "WTF mate?" way too early in the morning, when I'd finally gotten to work.

To be precise, there was a man standing at the gates there. There is generally not supposed to be a man standing there, so sleepy attention was shifted ( rather slowly, I might add) towards this manly apparition in the middle of the eeriest ( but incredibly cool-looking) fogs in a while. Turns out he was a New Guy on his first day at the site.

It also turns out that I'm now working with my former brother-in-arms from the army, one in my platoon, to be exact.

What, anti-climax don't suit you?

I'd Originally planned on deciding my date of resignation based on my schedule, courteously sent to me via mail by Teh University.

Teh University being a stingy dongpile, however, has seen fit to stiff me of my rightful lot of papers, forms and curricular whatnot so that I could instead enjoy the summer while there's still summer to be enjoyed.

Unfortunately, my vacation won't start until I officially resign, and to do that, I need some goddamn paperwork to show about! Alternative excuses for quitting my job had to be cooked up!

So I decided to sift through my bank-account, using what little was left of my math-skills to try and find a date at which I'd be financially self-reliant. When that date went over to around 2013, the oh-so-mundane 'fukit'-syndrome kicked in; once I actually have money to speak of, I'll quit.

Having gotten an agreeable date, I gathered all my courage to walk up to the office of my supreme Boss' office (who happens to be one of the most non-intimidating people I've yet to meet) and laid down my ultimatum.

He pleasantly accepted, noting that "we won't have to wonder where you are onthe following Monday, then".

That was awfully simple.

But now, after finally having climbed out of the Deep Pit of Uncertainty and now knowing when I'll finally give back my uniform (actually not, I'll be keeping them, helmet and all. And be a leading member of the soon-to-be revived Village People), it seems like I can finally breathe easier. A huge load has been lifted off of me, the final paycheck is right around the corner, and the mental jumpsuit is off, revealing the all-too-hairy Legs of Purpose and the somewhat funky Briefs of High Hopes.

Now I just have to live with working for another six weeks...

They call us the Married Couple.

That's right. The Married Couple.

Me, and a 50 year old ex-biker that could probably win a fistfight with a grizzly-bear. To clarify, it's a He, and he's my coworker.

Apparently, we're the most feared twosome at work, or at least the scariest to have around. Mainly because we yell at each other. A lot. Even more so than your usual Finnish construction worker-duo, and that's saying something.

Yeah, we're that kind of 'married couple'.

Neither of us have really been bothered about it really, but apparently people don't think we're taking it so lightly. But then again, if two people cuss and insult each other all throughout the day at work, wouldn't you think so as well?

We even had a few masons come and ask us if it we could tone it down a bit so they could work in peace. Three floors down. Not even the acoustics are that good.

One of the bosses even said it was "hella easy" to find us, even over the noise, since "you'd start fighting again within 5 minutes", after which he'd just follow it to the source.

One of our coworkers, a year younger than me, came by one day and asked me if I "wasn't scared to work with him, since he always keeps on shouting to you". When I asked him if he hadn't heard me shouting back, he had to admit that, yes, he had, after which he wondered if it'd ever gotten close to becoming a fistfight.

"Nope, never."

To clarify, it's not that kind of yelling. The Finnish words "Vittuilu raskaalla kädellä" (heavy-handed insulting) explains it to most Finns, though it essentially means poking fun at each other (though in a considerably more vulgar way than most, more decent peoples would expect). And we honestly enjoy working together... even if you can smell the sulphur.

And you can't really say that there's any tension between us.

I like to think of myself as a calm, humble person. Most people would, ultimately, probably, call me that as well, after they've called me smug and conceited...

... and egotistic.

BUT TO THE POINT!

In most situations, I'm able to contain myself, even when most would falter and simply, well, snap!

Today was not such a situation.

I don't know, maybe it was because it was a freezing Monday after a sweltering weekend, maybe it was because I'd had a hard time falling asleep last night.

... Or maybe it was because my job for today had me jamming 1 cm thick foam-carpet into a 3 mm gap!

I don't know, certain mundane tasks can sometimes be quite debilitating and mess around with your brain 'til it all ends up being a huge cluster-fuck* of gray matter. And it's not as if having to stuff way too large pieces of foam into way too small crevices would be able to push me past the point of blind rage - but I have to admit, the whole setup was as if it was straight out of some psychologist's thesis: each time I missed the gap, my inadvertently bare wrist would hit bits of iron webbing, resulting in tiny, yet surprisingly painful cuts and scratches. Call me Pavlov's contractor, but being automatically reprimanded for failure of fulfilling a task was quite frustrating. By the end of the 2nd hour I was ready to just whip out the nailgun and nail my cranium to the nearest air-intake.

The problem with working at a construction site is that there's really never a nailgun around when you really need one!

*Didn't really expect the spell-check to actually know the word 'cluster-fuck'. Hmh, live'n'learn.

Being in construction ("for the time being", I usually find myself explaining to people) has given me the opportunity/forced me to meet some quite peculiar characters at work, and while they may not be your average, "larger than life" kind of characters, they're definitely Characters with a capital C ( meh, why not throw in an A as well?).

Among other things, we have:

• A foreman that looks decidedly like a fat John Voight, even though he sounds like Bill Clinton dealing with a severe case of constipation.
• A guy who looks pretty much exactly like what you'd expect a crazy old hermit to look like at these latitudes: flowing beard, dirty disposition and a "crazy-stare" that would make a bear falter. The fact that he's got quite a few front teeth knocked out of his mouth doesn't exactly alleviate the whole look, either. And because he's always wearing this weird grin/smile, you usually find it best to just laugh along and hope he doesn't whip out the nail-gun. Seriously, this is the kind of guy who could walk around in a dusty cowboy-hat or sombrero and a fur-coat and nobody'd dare make fun of him. He also has a very disturbing habit of moving every conversation towards the much more discussable topic of shooting wolves.
• The painter, who's either been inhaling way too much paint-fumes, or something very different. I've never met a guy this mellowed out, and I've had my fair share. Only early for coffee breaks, this guy has the stare, the voice - hell, the whole being of a complete narc, and yet he's probably the most rational of the bunch. But I've definitely gotta check his paint buckets.
• A 50-60 year old dude, who thinks the whole world's against him and out to get him, has to confide about it to pretty much everybody and claims he'd have made a two bedroom apartment by himself in the same time, if only he'd have the tools.
• The crazy Russian welder, who doesn't speak a word of Finnish, Swedish, English or any other language for that matter. This guy looks like he was just dragged out of some Soviet coal-mine just the other day and carted off here to work as cheap labor. Unfortunately, that's probably not too far off. And me having to try and explain to him that he "can't break down that wall, because we just set it up" even though most of my Russian is either not very appropriate for small talk, or talk for that matter, or is more appropriate for military use. "Get down!" and "Don't shoot, I have a wife!" doesn't really help when all you want to do is borrow a welding-torch.

I'd also like to give an honorable mention to the forty-something year old guy with an imported (and probably considerably younger) wife from Thailand, but since I've already found two, I can't really call them unique characters, now can I? Even if they're... "unique".

I've been having a serious creativity-block for the past few weeks, and I apologize. The reason I'm apologizing is because this has been affecting my posting frequency. I haven't really been able to maintain the fervor and concentration to go through posting (if you haven't noticed, mine tend to be rather long), and it's been a pain to scrap post after semi-finished post in favor of a drink and bath.

I love writing and I adore drawing, both on paper and per computer, but recently I haven't really been able to get a good enough hold of myself to really pull through and create something. Don't get me wrong, I've gotten ideas upon ideas, I just don't seem to have the mental fortitude to flesh them out right now.

I don't know, perhaps it's just hormonal imbalance coupled with f**ked up working-hours and the oh-so-lovely twilight between the Finnish winter-Suck and the sexual innuendo that is Spring, but something's got me roiled up. Give it some time and I'm sure it'll right itself, but right now my mind's one big spaghetti-bowl.

I'd tell you about my day at work, but with the construction-workers all talking about bunnies it was manly as hell. More to the point, killing bunnies via necktwist. There was a whole side-story to it all, but upon considering, I don't think it would've really made the whole thing seem any better. And since they were talking about those little bunnies that don't really grow bigger than your palm, I think we should just drop the whole subject.

Having aimed at for most of my life so far and finally being a (not entirely self-proclaimed) member of Academia and higher education I've had most of my life to prepare for the bouts and battles that may or may not lie ahead in my field(s) of work. Mental stress has, is and will be a part of all this, and I've gotten pretty accustomed to it. I assume I'd be fully prepared to have someone tell me "If you fail, we lose six million."

Yesterday, however, had me get accustomed to a whole new kind of stress: the psychological kind, with a slight addition of possible/plausible pain as a side-dish. Instead of having a "we'll lose money"-kind of situation, my foreman basically said:

"See that wall there? Right now, that wall's not fastened to anything, so we need someone to anchor it stuck to that segment there. Don't push it too hard or it might fall on top of ya."

Hold the fucking darn press right there! For those of you not in the know, I'm currently working as a construction worker to garner in some money so I won't be completely broke once I start at the university next fall. I am, therefore, not a professional construction worker, something I've been wanting to remind my foreman about every other day, especially since that little vertigo-laced "incident" he had lil' ol "fear of heights"-me go through a few weeks back. And the unsettling thought that, if (and when) you screw up, the sky won't fall on top of you, but the wall will, doesn't exactly add to job-satisfaction nor -safety.

This new task did, however, give me some new insights regarding life, the universe and their ilk, and since I took this job to learn (if you ask my dad; make money if you ask me), we're already 1up.

1. Clamps help. Clamps rock. Whether you've got regular ones, spiderclamps, anything'll do. Have some with you at all times; they're the rubber band of the Macgyvers of the 21st century.
2. The bigger they are, the higher they'll fall from, and thus the more time they have to gather those bonecrushing Newtons to destroy you with. The higher up you are, however, counteracts this. And counteraction is always good.
3. More tools mean more potentially helpful allies and life-threatening machines of death. But if it can cut through concrete, you're going strong.
4. Everything doesn't have to be exact; winging it or doing it just about right is usually enough. Even if lives (primarily yours) are at stake.
5. When in doubt, ask. And ask again. Encore? Ask someone else. Ask. Ask. Ask in case you don't know - that way you can always refer to someone else in case you do screw up.