Work and finding more work
Blogging time. After a spell of not writing creatively last week, I'm easing back into it. Today at work I wrote in one of my notebooks, so I'll count that as my real writing for the day.
Yesterday, the guys on my paint crew noticed how I never look our boss in the eye when he's talking to me. Naturally, as the crew leader, I'm the one he gives instructions to, so he talks to me before he talks to anyone else. I have to admit it is true. I try to avoid eye contact with him when he's standing next to me. It's because he's standing too close to me. Sometimes it seems like if I turn and look him in the face, the end of my nose would touch the end of his. Also, when I stand that close to someone it feels like I'm about to make out with them. Sometimes that's good, and sometimes it's not. Here's an example of when it's not:
While we were standing around in the morning, chatting before leaving the physical plant yesterday, he came up to me and stood like he always does.
"I want you guys to swing down to Hills and get those repaired hallway walls painted," he said. "And check on those new walls you painted last week. Someone was worried the primer was coming through. A couple of them might need a second coat."
As he talked I had my head turned a little so I could stare past his face. I could feel his breath on my cheek. I was afraid if I moved in the slightest way our bodies might brush against each other. One of my crew said, "Well, maybe he has a special thing for you. Maybe he wants you to be his boy toy." I highly doubt it. On the back bumper of his personal van he has a "I Love My Wife" and "Got Jesus?" sticker next to each other.
I will look him in the eye, when he's coming toward me, or when he's further away. He's a good guy, and I respect him. But he has no sense of personal space or a comfortable proximity.
My big move is less than two months away. Tonight I applied for five jobs online — six counting the one when I hit the "submit" button twice because nothing was happening. From AAA my dad got me a road map of California, a guidebook for the northern and central sections of the state, and a map of San Francisco. I don't know what the map of San Francisco is for. It's cool to have, though. I already have a map of the city, one I "got" when I was working at Goodwill in high school. It came in handy when I went there for a journalism conference later that year.
As my moving date nears everything is starting to fall into place. I might not have a job right now, but I'm confident I'll have one ready before I move. If I don't, I know I can get a temporary job easily. I can work the counter at a hotel. I'll take whatever I can get. It's what I have to do.
I have to find a place to live, too. Duh. Today at work, while I was rolling a room alone, I had the classroom TV tuned to TV Land. "Sanford and Son" was on. Fred had moved out of his house and into a shelter or men's home run by a church. He was eating and rooming with homeless men and transients, for 35 cents a night. To tell you the truth, it's actually something I've been thinking about doing. I don't know where I'll stay when I first get to Santa Cruz, but the idea of rooming in a YMCA or temporary home had crossed my mind. I'd totally do it for the experience. Plus it's cheap. It'd certainly be interesting.
Yesterday, the guys on my paint crew noticed how I never look our boss in the eye when he's talking to me. Naturally, as the crew leader, I'm the one he gives instructions to, so he talks to me before he talks to anyone else. I have to admit it is true. I try to avoid eye contact with him when he's standing next to me. It's because he's standing too close to me. Sometimes it seems like if I turn and look him in the face, the end of my nose would touch the end of his. Also, when I stand that close to someone it feels like I'm about to make out with them. Sometimes that's good, and sometimes it's not. Here's an example of when it's not:
While we were standing around in the morning, chatting before leaving the physical plant yesterday, he came up to me and stood like he always does.
"I want you guys to swing down to Hills and get those repaired hallway walls painted," he said. "And check on those new walls you painted last week. Someone was worried the primer was coming through. A couple of them might need a second coat."
As he talked I had my head turned a little so I could stare past his face. I could feel his breath on my cheek. I was afraid if I moved in the slightest way our bodies might brush against each other. One of my crew said, "Well, maybe he has a special thing for you. Maybe he wants you to be his boy toy." I highly doubt it. On the back bumper of his personal van he has a "I Love My Wife" and "Got Jesus?" sticker next to each other.
I will look him in the eye, when he's coming toward me, or when he's further away. He's a good guy, and I respect him. But he has no sense of personal space or a comfortable proximity.
My big move is less than two months away. Tonight I applied for five jobs online — six counting the one when I hit the "submit" button twice because nothing was happening. From AAA my dad got me a road map of California, a guidebook for the northern and central sections of the state, and a map of San Francisco. I don't know what the map of San Francisco is for. It's cool to have, though. I already have a map of the city, one I "got" when I was working at Goodwill in high school. It came in handy when I went there for a journalism conference later that year.
As my moving date nears everything is starting to fall into place. I might not have a job right now, but I'm confident I'll have one ready before I move. If I don't, I know I can get a temporary job easily. I can work the counter at a hotel. I'll take whatever I can get. It's what I have to do.
I have to find a place to live, too. Duh. Today at work, while I was rolling a room alone, I had the classroom TV tuned to TV Land. "Sanford and Son" was on. Fred had moved out of his house and into a shelter or men's home run by a church. He was eating and rooming with homeless men and transients, for 35 cents a night. To tell you the truth, it's actually something I've been thinking about doing. I don't know where I'll stay when I first get to Santa Cruz, but the idea of rooming in a YMCA or temporary home had crossed my mind. I'd totally do it for the experience. Plus it's cheap. It'd certainly be interesting.
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