A few posts ago I wrote about the people I work with and how
essentially it was like they had gathered all the class clowns and loudmouths
and put them all in one place. Well this statement rings even more true for the
lunchroom. To give a little background the lunch room is essentially three big
Atco trailers, like the one I am living in, that have been designed to serve as
a cafeteria minus the food services and just fridges to keep your lunch in. In
the middle there are six sections of table for people to sit and eat their
lunch at. So like any normal person would I went and grabbed my lunch and
decided to just sit down at a table and start eating but like everything else
at camp this is not so easy because although this chair and place at the table
may have seem unoccupied the people nearby informed me that it was just the
opposite. So I picked up my lunch and looked for another spot, luckily one
opened up next to my crew. I decided to voice my incident to my fellow workers
and learned that the seat I so ‘rudely’ tried to assume was none other than
Jerry’s and that only members of the operating engineers could sit at that
section of table. I found this kind of weird and decided to press further and
ask if this was some kind of site rule or just some lunch room bully shenanigans.
Well apparently my crew members and the rest of the people at this side of the
lunch room have handed over their Cojones.
They said that because they have no red seal trade that they were a lesser
people than the rest of the lunch room; it truly was a defeated people. At that
moment it dawned on me this lunch room was like a microcosm of high school and
the operators were the cool kids who got the best seat in the cafeteria; the
ironworkers were the cool sporty kids that spent lunch in the gym; the welders,
electricians, and millwrights were those fringe cool kids that still went to
all the parties but never made that tight-knit group of populars; the carpenters, masons, and roofers were the stoner kids,
the first-aid attendants and field engineers were the smart kids every cheated
off but no one liked; and my labourers were the un-cool kids that no one cared
about unless they thought they might come and shoot up the school, too soon? Although
I would like to tell you I gave the boys an empowering speech that go down in
history as a truly pivotal moment in trade relations I did not pull a
Braveheart. But I did feel like they needed to know that just because our group
was not as well educated or skilled in the building trades we play a crucial
role in the building of our projects and that this was project was a team
effort and we play a big part in that, and I meant it. On a less serious note I
now have a roommate to share my bathroom with and now what it’s like to live
next to a bathroom stall. You see, the thing about living in an Atco is that to
try and make the most of the space they may have sacrificed the thickness, and
in turn noise detention, of the walls. So sitting at my desk which is located
next to the wall of my bathroom I have heard my new roomy drop one twice just
while typing up this entry, and camp food does not make for necessarily solid or
quite release of chocolate hostage; kind of throws off the typing a bit. Well I
have a big pour of epoxy to handle tomorrow and still have to hit up the gym so
this will be all for today.
Eat
Fresh, Tanner (Labourer Braveheart)
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