23 posts tagged “work”

Having taking my own sweet time recuperating from my short trip to Bremen ( OK, my Internet connection was offline for a week, go figure), it was refreshing to get back to the stuff I know best: schmoozing the High and Mighty and selling myself to the highest bidder - pretty much being an academic whore, if you will.

In the aftermath of the recession in construction last year (No, f**k you 'The Economist': Depression!) a whole lot of construction and infrastructure firms are trying to warm their ties to us, the would-be CEOs of anything with the word "build" in it, they've started throwing out meet-and-greets for us: a short presentation, food and drinks on the house, and usually some form of entertainment, usually in the Boardroom's private sauna facilities or some other - to quote McDonald's: "I'm lovin' it!"

Most people decide to go along with these out of pure interest, some for the free food and drink, a few because they like people vying for their future careers. Me? I go there vying for mine.

Let's be frank: we're not going to get better chances to mingle one-on-one with these CEOs later in life unless we're really crafty, smart or plain lucky, and wisened from last summer's less-than-optimal job market, I'd decided not to leave those meet-and-greets without at least one phone number, even if it was just the receptionist's! Networking is the word, ladies and gentlemen.

Today was my first meet-and-greet this autumn, with YIT none the less, one of the biggest contractors in Scandinavia. Long story short, asking business-related questions you already know the answers to, making some educated guesses and comments and chatting it up with the Senior VP of Baltic Affairs will quickly land you a few helpful phone numbers.

”Nothing certain, of course, but a determined applicant should be able to make good use of those people”.

Booyah bitches, we're back in business!

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...

Since most of the week's gone to renovating the ol' apartment for the better, most of the time I've been sniffing fumes from pretty much every legal chemical on the continent. If it hasn't been fixative, it's been paint or different kinds of oils - and let's be honest, no matter how much you try to air it out, that stuff sticks around!

Because of said hang-arounding, much of my sleepy-time's gone to going "Hummana-hummana-hummana" a whole lot and seeing dreams that most people would call hallucinogenic thought-clusterfucks ( others might call them 'prophecies', but I'm not going to admit that).*

Now that today's fumes have worn off, and the brain-seepage has died down somewhat, I think I can try to reiterate my last post completely.

SO, as I said, work on the murals hit full speed...

... for the first half hour...

... after which it ground to a full halt. Problem is the method I chose to start working with, since I realized that, if I keep doing it like this, I'll have either shot myself or died from internal hemorrhaging by Saturday. I DID, however, come up with an alternate, less brain-hemorrhaging method to get the line-art done, but just getting started on that will take another few days ( and some internal bleeding, I'm sure).

Honestly, it's bugging me to death, since I'd really like to get to work on this one as fast as possible ( in part because I have an old friend who's moving abroad within a few months and I'd really like to show her the finished product live), and these little hiccups suck both time and motivation. Also, the texture of the wall's pretty different from what I'm used to, so I'm expecting quite a few unpleasant surprises down the road concerning that, as well.

Luckily, though, there are other murals waiting to get done, and even if they all require different working methods and -materials, most of them require less time to "prep" than the one I originally intended to start with ( which, incidentally, is either the easiest or the hardest to make - either way, most problematic), so there's still lot's to do.

Now I just have to get my procrastinating ass working and painting again. Oy vey...

*Funny story, actually. Among all the flashy-colored psychedelia I dreamt about, there was one dream where, out of nowhere, I suddenly stood face to face with a girl I know - someone I haven't seen in months. The dream was mainly just a dialogue about what's been going on, but the surprising part came today when I suddenly bumped into her after such a long while. Whoodathunk she'd be messing around in a dream the night before?

Job interview's over.

Much to my surprise, after going "ohshitohshitohshitohshit" for about an hour prior to it all, it actually went really, really well! I was able to communicate with them ( something I hadn't been completely sure I'd be capable of doing), I was able to commune my interest towards the job and I was able to seem at least somewhat knowledgeable about it all - I tell ya, first saying you only have superficial knowledge about the field only to pelt them with all the academic "what does this button do"-crap you know seemed to pay off.

And I didn't mess up jack! The only thing they slightly frowned upon was my little compulsory state-funded war-themed outing in june, and even then they only seemed pretty fatalistic and "laissez-faire" about it all.

After the initial interview was over, I was asked if I'd like to see "the facilities". The seemingly pleasant building didn't really seem even initially to be capable of hoarding a massive "test facility", so I was joyously waiting to see just what they could be hiding.

*Ding* goes the elevator.

"We're now 40m underground, 20 m below sea level. These caverns can facilitate 50.000 people in case of ... well, anything. Not even a cruise missile could get us down here."

Awesome.

"We have the tools and instruments to mimic and simulate any type of weather, climate, situation etc. You name it, we can break it."

Awesome.

"Your job would be to assist in these tests. That'd include stress-tests, climatic tests, sonar testing, superheating- and extreme cold-tests..."

"Pretty much breaking everything that gets sent down here, huh?"

"Nothing's ever gone back out of here intact."

Awesome

"We won't be able to pay you more than an entry-level salary, though, seeing as you're still quite new to the field."

"That's perfectly understandable [ Dude, paying me is enough]"

"You'll be working down here, it can be pretty noisy and dirty, and the sun doesn't exactly shine down here either."

"[ You had me at 'cruise missile.]"

Guess what?

I got invited to a job interview!

I know, I know, it's not much so far, but hell, it's kinda like a date, right? I mean, just saying yes means they've at least got a passing interest in you, am I right? And I'd pretty much given up all hope regarding work this summer anyway, so a pity**** is just as good.

Of course, this could possibly mess up my whole summer plans ( of doing nothing!)- which I really don't mind, since money always works as well.

The awesome part about all this is that the people who want to see me in person are the representatives from a state-funded research institute pretty much just down the road from here.

I mean, how cool is that? I'd be 'research assistant'!

"For what?", you ask? Why, I'd be a member of a team of researchers stress-testing construction equipment and materials = I ( could very well) get paid to break things, again!!!

Now here's hoping they find me academically attractive enough to hire me and pay me good money for good destructive capabilities!

Fingers crossed!

 

You're overworked.

 

is what she said.

The actual thought hadn't even crept up on me, but it's strange how clear things become when someone tells you the suddenly obvious in the middle of the night.

Truth be told, the probable reason why I hadn't realized it myself was because, for once in a lifetime, I was enjoying it! What with planning through the graphical design of all sorts of events, churning through deadlines just in the nick of time and now even having been asked to run for a spot in the new Aalto University Representative Council and even then trying to find the time to simply study in depth ( and trying to get a job, but that's a whole 'nother story), I hadn't realized that I'd sold out all of my spare time simply because I'd been enjoying everything so much!

So hearing something like that was like a wake-up call at 9 whereas work began at 8. So the next day I decided to do something I hadn't done in almost three months.

Visit my parents - and everything else I ever left behind.

So I made a few phonecalls to inform everybody I'd be missing a few meetings and boarded the next train back. I won't say it was a quiet trip - mostly thanks to my friend who had to go get his tux from back home - but it was a little less verbal than usual. Strange thoughts roll through your mind when the sun's gone down. With all the work I'd piled up, I was slightly worrying I wouldn't have time to go see my grand parents at all.

Maybe it was because I was tired, maybe because my empty stomach was literally howling, but as I got off the train, went up on the causeway and gazed at that little city I'd completely left behind me half a year ago, I suddenly felt a lump in my throat - and for a strange moment, every overwhelming memory I'd had flushed over me, and I had to sit down in the snow.

The walk home wasn't anything I'd even dare call nostalgic; more than anything, it somehow reminded me of the return of the prodigal son, even if the actual story'd be lost on my case. I simply felt an urge to flee from everything for a few days. I didn't even have the heart to use my own key; instead I rang the doorbell.

Being back at the Bastille does have its strengths: if I want, I can completely shut myself out from everything and just work.

And I did - that is, until I got a message.

It took me a whole fifteen minutes to get my heartbeat down to a reasonable level... and another ten for the trembling to stop.

Sometimes, it just seems, things have a tendency to work out.

And I did visit my grandfather. Wish he could've seen me then, wouldn't have believed what his grandson had turned into.

" Yeah, hey, it's me. How'd you feel about working overtime for a few hours today?"

"Yeah, huh-uh, No."

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...

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.