TAKE THIS JOB AND SHOVE IT – HOUSTON 2005

Aaaaahhh finally, I have reached a point, in my rambling thru life, where I have gloriously arrived at retirement. Oh Lord, how I dreamt of this day. My journey thru the cobwebs of my memory has very much, followed my work career. I believe, almost all of my posts are about things outside of work. However, those memories were only created because of my work and where it took us. Looking back, my work career, that seemed as eternal suffering, is now just a passing memory. Many times, I thought that I would never see that elusive day come. The day when I would be free of endless “knobs”, telling me what to do. It all happened in Houston in spring 2005. Let me tell you how it came to pass. Just can’t wait, can you?

I am going to try and be objective about my work career and try not to sound as if I am whining. On the other hand it is very hard to maintain objectivity when dealing with a long stressful career that I mostly hated. Where this long hate/hate relationship started was in the late 60’s when I took on a series of temporary jobs. All the while trying to get an education. Early on I realized that if you did not have some form of education, then you were most likely doomed to work at the bottom of the pile. And indeed, I should have got more, because I still worked many jobs from neck deep in the pile of crap, they call work.

The two things that made my work, even partially acceptable, were the travel and my travelling companion ol’ Bubbaloo. Switching jobs and countries, every so often, kept me one step ahead of people finding out just how useless I was. Working 12 hours each day, to accomplish, what others seemed to do in 8 hours, made me, at least, look like I was a workhorse. My travel companion was fun to be with and loved the sights as much as I did. Ol’ Bubbaloo, cleaned me up, fed me and kicked my ass out the door, each morning, to go to work. Even on those times where I travelled overseas, she would speak to me a couple of times each day, to ensure that I stayed on “the straight and narrow”. Her’s was an endless task.

My early career, was a mix of jobs which, I believe, fashioned my dislike of work on mundane tasks. That dislike, led to my constant travel and movement to new jobs. I started my work life, when the mechanic, at a bowling alley, where I worked after school, had a fit and quit his job. At that time I was working part-time cleaning lanes, mopping floors and keeping a billiard room tidy. The mechanic, who worked on the automatic “pin setters”, left us in a tight spot. The owner looked around and decided that I had done such a good job cleaning floors, that I should be able to fix mechanical bowling machines. I had just finished grade 12 and had about 9 months before college started. So mechanic it was.

I must say that, along with my lack of natural talents, for music, dance or sports, I also had very few mechanical abilities. My father on the other hand, could take apart anything that had been invented to that time, including airplanes, and put them all back together again. What I did have, was a love of a challenge and a pretty solid work ethic. That, again, provided by my mom and dad. So I jumped right in. The only thing I was really ever taught, was “before sticking any of my appendages into one of those banging, grinding, whining monsters, SHUT IT OFF“. Or, as the owner so gently put it, “you are going to lose whatever you stick in there, and I’ll, have to find a new mechanic!” But I did remember it. And I survived it.

From there, at the ripe old age of 18, I decided to forego college, for another year, in order to save up some serious money. You might say bullshit at this point, and you would be 100% right. I worked, I earned and every payday, I just found something I couldn’t live without. And away went my savings. My job for that year was as a draftsman for a local transformer manufacturer. I’m talking transformers that ran your neighbourhood, or those that hung off big ass telephone poles. Not those dinky little things made to run your electric train set. Once again it was a job, I knew absolutely “nada” about. However, I did have neat handwriting and was fairly good at mathematics.

It went something like this. The engineer, in charge of the plant, took me into an office that had a drawing table. It also had about ten huge drawing size file cabinets with sepia copies of every transformer that they had ever build. I mean thousands. So what he tells me is, “when one of the dorks comes in and asks for a certain type and size of transformer, you find the closest you can to that transformer, pull the drawing and make a “sepia” of it. Then you put the copy up on the table and change anything that is different from the one they want. When you are finished, get a number for it out of the log book, bring it in to me for approval, and give it to them. “Easy right?” “I’ll be in my office if you have any questions.” With that he leaves.

Let me just say, that, I was shocked. I didn’t even know enough about what he said, to ask a question. Stunned, I just sat there for a couple of hours. I remember a few things about this job. For instance the Blueprint Machine. Basically when you wanted to copy something, you ran a 4 foot piece of print paper thru this machine. It essentially imprinted an image on the blank sheet and then sent it over an ammonia bath. The ammonia was in an open tray which ran along the top of the machine. It held about 1 gallon of ammonia in a 5-6 foot long tray. It was located under an awning outside, in the open air. I remember the first time I used it. My boss explained how to work it and said, “don’t ever, ever get close enough to smell the ammonia!” “It can kill you!“

By now, I was so smart, that I had very little, left to learn. I’m thinking, “yeah how bad could it be “? And, “I suppose this is another prank they play on the new guy”. I sidle over to this big old monster of a machine. I move one nostril close to the tray and take a big sniff. All I can think is someone just unloaded a full tube of wasabi up my nose, (and I didn’t even know what Wasabi was). Or, alternately, had taken one of mom’s 40 year old horseradish roots, or Papi’s rocotos and reamed my nostril out with it. I swear I came very close to fainting. My head spun, I stumbled, I could feel my breakfast coming up and my sinuses hurt like hell. I spilled myself out and onto the ground. Until the day I left this job, I gave that machine a wide birth.

I must admit, that this job, was possibly the one job, I hated less than all others. I’m not saying I loved it, but at least no one picked on me or tried to hurt my feelings. I was kind of alone, in an office, drawing pictures on a big table, with unlimited paper and pencils to play with. I might add that eventually I became a pretty fair draftsman. The penmanship I learned stood me well through most of my career. Up to the point, that my inherent shaking (from my mother’s side) interfered with my art. I believe I was paid the lofty sum of $250.00/month in about 1968. I landed the job as draftsman based on three elective courses I took in High School. Once I had added a hundred new drawings to their archives, it was time to go back to school.

I stumbled and bumbled and fumbled my way thru college, and ultimately ended up with an engineering and construction company. I then, spent the next 30 years following this career path. The highlight was that we worked in and visited all of the continents on this earth, save Antarctica. We lived in, or set foot in, more than 65 countries. Often we stayed for 2 years or more, and other times we were in and out after completing some assigned task. We lived first class, in most of the places we were sent to. And by and large, most places were quite liveable when you travelled first class. The exception to this might be Kuwait after the war, Mumbai if you needed to commute even 10 blocks, or Nigeria at anytime.

I must also confess that a career in engineering, procurement and construction was not what I had in mind at the outset. Rather, I wanted to be a school teacher. That is, until I found out how much it paid. Early on in college, I was offered a teaching bursary to a place called Spirit River, in northern Alberta. When I researched it, I realized, that Spirit River, was farther north than I ever wanted to be. I also quickly learned that a teacher’s salary, at that time, would be barely enough to cover my student loans, taxes and beer bill. My career path had now been determined, based on that realization. And away I went, in search of Bubbaloo and the life of a gypsy.

I am not going to replay the many jobs or traumas of my work life, if you were afraid of that. But there are a couple of things that I must share. Although, rather insignificant, these memories stay with me to this day. One of my first jobs in the EPC business, was in the farthest northwest corner of Alberta. This, not many years after deciding, Spirit River was too far north for ol’ JimboRed. I am reminded of landing on a remote airstrip, in a tiny village. I felt lonely and apprehensive. Soon a truck and driver pull up to haul my ass off into the bush for my first assignment with an engineering company. The driver was a crusty old teamster. He sensed my apprehension and did his best not to ease my worries.

He settles down into his well worn seat and says, “yep sonny, I guess you noticed the mosquitos, eh?” I give him a nod and he continues with, “one day one of those big bastards landed at this very same airport. They put 45 gallons of aviation fuel in it, before they realized, it was a mosquito!” He thinks this is outrageously funny, and after wiping a few tears away he adds. “Yup, they say that the mosquitos in Rainbow Lake, are big enough to make love to the turkeys flatfooted!” I thought he was joking until I was dumped off on the job site and met my first northern Alberta mosquito. These are very silly memories but have stayed in my mind for 50 years. Every time I think of Rainbow Lake I remember the mosquitos.

From my time in the north, I slowly worked my way closer to the equator. Finally after 3 or 4 crappy jobs in Canada, I was hired and sent to Peru. It seemed like here, I had finally arrived. No more parka for me! Same knobs telling me what to do, but at least I wasn’t at risk freezing while they did it. For the next 20 years ol’ Bubbaloo chose many of our assignments where the weather was warm. A few, like the one in Kuwait, were awful warm! We followed the work wherever it took us, as long as it took us together as a family. We were very lucky to find jobs in mostly civilized places and generally for decent pay.

Little by little we rose to higher levels, within the companies we worked for. This, not withstanding, what I felt were, my own inadequacies. I guess what kept us climbing was my ability to put twice as much effort into each task, as those around me. I was able to do this because of the support I received from ol’ Bubbaloo. She allowed me to focus 100% on my work, meanwhile handling everything else in our lives. The years passed as phantoms. We raised our girls. And jammed as much into each time off, as we could. In the last few years we made it very near the top of a global company. I was at a level, where, finally all of the knobs reported to me.

I learned one thing, as I rose higher in a company. Simply, the higher you get, the smarter you are perceived. I felt like the same, bumbling, fumbling JimboRed. However I was seen in a different light. Colleagues, who previously, just ignored me or ordered me around, now listened intently to every word I uttered. Others, that used to try and hurt my feelings, were now seen to kowtow in my presence. My life became much easier, however there was a price to pay for advancement. I now found out that every disaster that befell our company, was dumped directly onto my plate. And there were some beauties, I might add. Many that would keep me awake nights.

Finally the day arrives, when Bubbaloo and I decide, that we have had enough and were ready to retire. It was a joyous occasion. Albeit, not without its stresses and worries. Issues and doubts, such as; will we have enough money? Where will we live? Will I become dumb again, once I am old and without any authority? Am I leaving too early? Will there be anyone out there, to play with, who is not still at work? We discussed these doubts for hours, but in the end, still decided we are “out of there”, come hell or high water. What sealed the deal was, that, during the last three months of my work, I had been around the world 3 times! Each time, I left Houston to the east and returned from the west. I was tired.

Each time the catastrophies were larger and more stressful. We realized that, under these stressful conditions, it was only a matter of time, before ol’ JimboRed’s heart stopped pounding. Believe me when I say, I had no wish to have “the big one” on an Air Canada flight somewhere. Hell, with them, it would have been days before they found me and then shipped me off to the wrong airport. So armed with our decision, I boldly walked into our president’s office, one day late in March 2005, and announced, “Take this job and shove it, I ain’t working here no more”. In his typical fashion he said, “Jimbo, you are far too sensitive, go lie down for a couple hours until it passes”.

But retire we did, and the rest is history. Now, nearly 20 years later, it all seems as a blurry vision. The years of agony, now a faint memory. Some of the jobs, that once tortured me to distraction, now do not seem too bad. Sometimes I am nostalgic. Whenever this occurs, I do go lay down until it passes. One of the main reasons for writing this blog, is to keep alive the memories of the places we visited, while suffering thru our work life. Do I regret my career path? My response is an “EMPHATIC NO”! Had I not chosen this exact path, I never would have met Bubbaloo. She and she alone, is the sole reason that I ever made it to retirement, alive.

The last couple of thoughts about retirement. Let me just say, that my first morning of retirement, was one of the top five days of my life. I had managed to sleep through the night, without some jerk in “Timbuktu” calling me a 3:00 am to describe some disaster that he had just created. It was refreshing. The next thing was, that, my worst day of retirement was and is, far, far better than my best day at work, ever! And finally, almost as soon as I no longer had power, or authority, I immediately became dumb and useless once again. Regardless of what I had learned, in 35 years of intense, high pressure work, I suddenly became someone to patronize, but never to seek advice from. Every word that escapes my head, now, is quickly vetted thru Google, in order to confirm, that, I am indeed, losing it!