In article <
[email protected]>,
"Gooserider" <
[email protected]> writes:
> B) I'm a dental assistant. Never thought I'd spend my days asking old people
> to put their dentures in my hand, but it beats digging ditches.
Digging ditches isn't really so bad, although I much prefer digging
out big, stubborn ol' tree stumps, or trenching for underground
sprinkler/irrigation systems. Hand-bombing gravel backfill is what
kills ya. Especially when the excavator operator thinks it's funny
to keep bringing you bucketfuls of gravel as fast as he can while
you're trying to keep up with him.
One day-labour stint in particular led to one of my worst rides
ever. I had to help dismantle some scaffolding over in North
Vancouver, where August weather can be pretty mercurial. The
day started out fair, but as I worked a light, misty drizzle
began. And it lingered on and on and on. It didn't rain hard,
but this precipitation had some sort of super soaking quality.
The scaffolding was setup going down a cliff. Everything
(including me, dirt magnet that I am) got muddy in short order.
I didn't have any raingear, but even if I did I wouldn't have
worn it because it would have been too hot, and liable to
snag on stuff, which isn't good when your standing on a 2x10
on top of a scaffold alongside a cliff with a 100' drop, and
having heavy scaffolding components passed up to you.
So I got to ride home in my soaked & muddy jeans and flannel
plaid shirt. Every pedal stroke drove that dank clamminess
deeper into the core of my being. I decided 6 hours @ $8.oo/hr
of that b.s. wasn't worth it. The only thing that cheered me
up was looking at the crowded rush hour buses whizzing by, and
being glad that I wasn't on them. Especially considering the
strange looks I was getting. I really did look like a drowned rat.
cheers,
Tom
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