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Normally I work a standard 8-5 in an office because 85% of my job is designing stuff, writing reports, or doing work that can mostly be done from behind a desk. Thank you, Google Maps. Usually my company gets one or two big jobs that go to construction and they require some field supervision to make sure the stuff gets built correctly. This brings me to a less than ideal area in Jersey where I am working under a construction manager who is, “weathered,” let’s say.
I have worked construction before back in college during a summer break so I am not totally “green” as the laborers typically call someone with a white hard hat. However, this environment never ceases to surprise me.
Around here “fuck” is a fully accepted verb, adjective, and noun for every circumstance. Not a big deal as I throw them out myself. Out here, guys tell horror stories like I remember back in college when we would sit in the hallway and talk about the shenanigans from the night before. I’ve got a few of them myself so I can definitely relate. We go out and have a beer most nights with dinner, and occasionally get a little more rowdy than we should. All in all I can get on the crew’s level most times.
You totally lose me when you start talking about hookers, though. This is exactly the type of thing my construction manager indulges in. Picture a far less than average height, mildly overweight, salty old man with buttery teeth talking about his new “girlfriend” named Maria he met at the strip joint. “What else am I supposed to do with all my money?” he rationalizes. “Oh I got my money’s worth last night let me tell you” he says to me as he explains in detail how he performed the night before. He goes on dates with this lady of the evening, taking her to nice (as nice as this area can offer) restaurants before a trip to pound town.
Just a couple weeks ago he claims to have paid her with airline miles so she could take her two kids on a short vacation to Miami. I mean, I get it. The guy is divorced, alone, and away from home. There really isn’t much to work with except his wallet. Most of his stories are probably bullshit because this guy is an absolute legend in his own mind – a one of a kind character. But this hooker storyline is too meticulous, too involved, and has gone on too long to be totally fabricated.
Nearly every other professional interaction would involve a firm handshake, a business card exchange, and some small talk about the weather or the baseball game before. You’re expected to be put together, well spoken, and polite. I would get laughed off the job if I acted like that here. Having to work directly with this lecherous old man every single day makes for a rather uncomfortable situation but so far I think I’ve done well going along with his stories and humoring him. That’s the only thing you can really do when your boss is talking about slamming muff that he has paid for. You have to play along when a higher up is explaining exactly where his face was the night before as you are trying to write status reports for the powers that be back at headquarters. Maybe after this is all said and done I can snag a nice letter of recommendation from him or at the very least a couple of endorsements on LinkedIn for giving him an ear to chew off about his paid for sexual exchanges. I just hope I don’t have to do him any favors for it..
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