Well, it’s a bit of a dog-who-caught-the-car tale. After 18 years in the salt mines, I was getting pretty burned out, so I started looking around for something different. Since there aren’t a lot of options available for … ahem… seasoned salt miners, I should probably consider myself lucky simply to have found a way out of the mine. Especially since the new job came with a nice raise.
But complaining is part of my nature. I was born this way.
So now I’m in the Salt Handlers Inspection Team. I travel around to salt mines throughout the central U.S. making sure all the salt miners, doing the tasks I once did, are doing so in compliance with policy and regulations. I’m still new at this, but I am beginning to get my feet under me.
Perhaps the first thing I learned is that a lot of the salt miners out there in the Amurkin heartland get a little too comfortable in their jobs after a while. And then they get a little loose in their work ethic. My job, as part of the team, is to vigilantly patrol the invisible line where loose meets lazy. We show up at a salt mine on relatively short notice, sporting laptops and cameras and notebooks and red pens, and we proceed to tell the miners every little thing they are doing wrong. And then we take all those things they are doing wrong and assemble them into a nice report, complete with charts and graphs and color photos. And then, we hold a meeting, and in the salt miners’ presence, read that report to their supervisor and a couple of levels of upper management.
Not coincidentally, the second thing I learned is that salt miners tend to get a little resentful when the team shows up and starts dishing out the humiliation. I still feel the occasional twinge of embarrassment for some of the salt miners, but it really is hard to empathize with lazy, fat fucks caught red-handed half-assing their job.
So now I travel a lot. The worst part of travel is… well… the travel. I particularly despise this part:
Two hours in a plane seat leaves me aching, but only in my hips, back, neck and shoulders. Despite the grueling travel days, the new job is overall less physically demanding than the old one, so there are some good aspects. Did I mention the raise?
I’m never going to really like being away from the bunker as much as I am now, but I think my tolerance of it will improve with time. Though I would always prefer to spend my weekend in my wood shop, I’m enjoying playing new disc golf courses all the time. Here is a pretty good photo of a tight fairway taken one morning last month from a tee box in Fort Worth:
My weekday evenings on the road should get significantly better when I have saved enough pennies to buy a good laptop so I can properly blog. I can publish a simple post via e-mail using my iPad, but doing it that way I can’t add photos, or blockquotes, or mark up the text with clever bolding and italics and color like I’ve been doing above. For now, I am having to settle for whiling away my work nights eating in restaurants and drinking in bars and watching teevee. It’s rough. But I got a raise.