I officially have a new job. That’s right. The days of washing, and managing the washing of, the cars of the most disrespectful people I have ever encountered are over. Lesson learned: I do not excel at customer service. Oh well.
So what’s next? Bluntly, it’s time to punch another hole in my man card. For some reason I have an internal contradiction that I have so far been unable to shake. It goes something like this: I hate the idea of defining myself by my job (I’m sooo much more), but how I spend my waking hours during this life matters to me. Taken together with the notion that work should be work, I’m headed to the oil fields. For the remaining 400 words of this post, I’d like to discuss what the interwebs forecasts about my new life.
To begin, unlike my first three jobs as a civilian puke, this one is an outside job. I think that means it will take place in the same realm that flying did. I’ve always liked the outside, so that’s good news.
Next, a slave to fashion, I also can’t help but notice that I get to resume wearing a pair of flame resistant coveralls and a safety helmet. Hell, I never really thought of it before, but assuming I like this job, I will definitely fall into the “men-who-are-drawn-to-work-that-might-catch-them-on-fire” category. When forced, I’d say it’s not really that. I just like getting to wear free onesies. They contain so much nostalgia. Regarding helmets, I have a sneaking suspicion that people who wear helmets for safety understand they have something under it worth protecting. After a few drinks, you might even compel me to confess that, as a group, helmet-wearers understand cause-and-effect better than non-helmet-wearers. And yes, I’m happy to be part of that group again.
Finally, a word to women. I get it. I really do. As a “roughneck” I will have enough money to support you and my ex. You should know, though, that your peer’s blogs lead me to believe you really won’t be happy. I don’t want to believe it, but apparently as early as my first “hitch”, I will start hiding my phone, FB friending female co-workers, having my checks mailed to my mom, drinking more, using swears, and soliciting prostitutes. Truthfully, with minor tweaking–I don’t use FB, I have direct deposit, and I would only ever use high-end prostitutes like in “The Bucket List”–I’m fine with most of those changes. But I doubt you are. If I’m wrong, we should chat. Despite the evidence on all those blogs, I promise that what I will never do, no matter what, is stop talking. Never gonna happen. Sorry. So even if you manage to wrap those legs of yours around me and whisper enough sweet nothings into my ear to ensnare me, you need to be ready to listen.
And you’ll probably make an appearance here, too. You’ve been warned.
Okay. I think that covers it. Oh, one more thing. After tomorrow’s post, I believe there is going to be a 2+ week break. I have no idea how this job will affect my energy to blog, but I will let you know as soon as I do. I have recently added a new email account to the blog though: email@example.com. Use it if you want. I may even answer. Have a good one.