Blue Collar Girl

There are days when I shower, style my hair with a round brush, put on makeup and wear jewelry and high heels.  I show houses, I go to closings, I attend meetings with bankers, I sign leases, and I try to stay on my best behavior.

And then, there are the days when I go to work at the investment property.  These are great days.  First of all, I don’t have to decide what to wear in the morning.  There is really just the one choice - the grubby, paint stained, unflattering clothing that I always wear to “the job site” will do just fine, thank you.  And, I get to wear my work boots!  The hair will simply be tossed into a hat with braids, and there will be no shower and no makeup whatsoever.  I know I look like shit, but I’m going to work, dammit!!  REAL work!!

I always arrive much later than the other contractors.  Sometimes it is because I have errands, but mostly I am just SO not a morning person.  When I arrive, there they are, the “guys”, listening to their music, all dusty and dirty, bantering, transforming whatever space they’re working on.  They have questions for me.  I love this part!!!!  We walk around and figure out how the kitchen should be laid out, whether a room needs a ceiling fan, which colors go where and discuss the various budgets and costs of things.  Then, I get to whatever work I’m going to do.  Oh, yes, I’m SO much less capable than they are.  But, I’m there, working along side them, usually removing wallpaper or painting a porch or doing landscape work.  

Sometimes I have to borrow their tools.  AWESOME!   I always ask them if they need anything when I run to the hardware store.  I realize that even if they did need something, they would likely never entrust me to actually choose and purchase said items for them, but I just love offering.  I’m part of the group!!  I don’t have to be on my best behavior, because they actually appreciate it when I swear like a truck driver (until they find out what my husband does for a living and then they get all nervous and start apologizing and I hate when that happens).  Some of them are crabby and weird, but mostly, they are just great.  And lately, I have begun to feel that they actually like having me around sometimes.  For example, I had a detailed conversation about potty training and “poop” the other day with one of the guys and I’m pretty sure none of the other guys would have been as enthusiastic about the topic as this mama was.

At the latest project, things have not been smooth sailing.  We’ve been robbed and vandalized.  The guys are so supportive.  A couple of them have "connections", which we’d never actually use, but just knowing that they know “thugs” somehow makes me feel better.  They tell me about auctions where we can pick up replacement tools for cheap and offer to let us use their tools.  I love these guys!!!  

Sometimes I hurt myself.  I’ve punctured my leg by kneeling on a nail, more than once:

When this happens, they always have bandaids for me, and I am sure to act strong and brave and not make a big deal about it even when inside I’m secretly calculating when my last tetanus shot was and considering the lead paint dust and mold particles which have surely entered my body and are causing blood disorders and God only knows what other problems.  But, I can research all that online later.  Today, I’m working!!  I’m one of “them” and I’m sure not going home crying over a nail in the leg, that’s for damn sure.

Sometimes there are toilets available at certain points during construction at these projects (if not, it becomes necessary to acquaint oneself with the nearest reasonable public toilet, especially when you’re a girl and have given birth several times and aren’t getting any younger...).  The current house had bathrooms which needed to be completely gutted, including the toilets.  The plumber left one operational (I use this term loosely) toilet in the basement, right in the middle of the big open space.  No doors, no privacy, really no way of any kind of knowing when somebody is about to come down the stairs and see you hovering over this:

Yep, folks.  I have peed in that toilet.  Multiple times!!!  And other than the day when some water splashed up onto my butt cheek, sending me into a whole separate frenzy of anxiety, I will have you know that I’ve mastered the entire process.  I dash down when they are all busy with power tools upstairs, I hover, I flush-with-foot, I pretend like I don’t notice the sign that says you have to shut off the water when you’re done (so I don’t have to touch anything at all) and I dash back upstairs.  I’ve (knock wood) never been ‘busted’ mid-pee.  Can you not see how I’m part of the gang??  I just fit right in.

There is, however, one important distinction.  With very few exceptions, I have certain “standards” about my food at the work site which they seem not to have.  Example:

Please note that while this apple doughnut from Sarah Jane’s bakery in NE Minneapolis sits on this DIRTY water cooler next to the bag of OPENED Mediterranean dried apricots, there is dust flying all around!!!  People are scraping lead based paint and mold and stirring up dirt from a house that has been contaminated with animal feces, piles of who knows what else and these guys are NOT EVEN WORRIED ABOUT GERMS!!!  Notice that even my purse is zipped shut, so as not to contaminate its contents and right after I took this photo, I actually made the decision to remove the purse entirely from that room.  

So maybe I won’t ever exactly fit in.

But still, I just love my blue collar days...