You Bettah Work!

Dang I love my job.

I think I wrote early on in my time with Superior Woodcraft (according to their snazzy new catalog, I'm a 'finishing artisan') how different it was working for a 'straight' organization than it is working for a 'gay' organization. For example, in a workplace that's gay gay Gay, there's that moment when you get to work in the morning when you check out what everybody else is wearing, and they check out what you're wearing. This does not occur at the current job. Largely because everybody tends to wear the same thing every day. I wear the same pants every day (saves on laundry, and takes less time to get dressed in the morning since you don't have to unload and reload pockets), but I change my shirts.

But there's this weird thing happening at work.

I work with this guy we'll call Woody. Woody is a 32 year old virgin. This is due, I believe, to his religious convictions. He takes some razzing about this on the shop floor. Now, Woody's heart and mind might belong to Christ, but his body was designed by Satan. Woody has the body of death. He's just beautiful. Bruce Weber would have had a field day with Woody. And that butt of his! Breathtaking.

Now, this is not lost on my straight co-workers. Early on, I heard Nightingale comment, "Yeah. Woody is quite the studmuffin."

But lately, there's developed this whole schtick about Woody. Yesterday, someone put a length of wide masking tape on the back of the guy that does the final QC before the stuff goes on the truck. On the tape, written in magic marker, was "I Love Woody's Ass."

No kidding.

Big yucks all around.

And Woody takes ribbing all day long along the lines of "I'm sorry, Woody, after I heard you say, 'I'm gonna take mine out and show it to you' I didn't hear anything else you said. You'll have to repeat yourself."

No kidding.

I mean, how homo erotic is that?

I wonder if it's tied to the fact that it must be becoming increasingly evident to everyone that I'm a homo. Thus, they sort of engage in homo banter to underline the fact that they're... y'know... not homos.

And of course with me around, it's a laugh riot all day long. Today, two of our co-workers were out sick. I commented, "Hmmmm. Coincidence? Or maybe they stayed home to play a game of naked touch football."

They loved that.

Yeah, I love my job.

But I can't continue to work there. I've got to find a new job. I'm just not making enough money.

Y'see, when I worked at the Lower East Side Harm Reduction Center, my yearly salary was $62,000. When I left there to work for the Senator, I took a paycut (I needed a change badly) of $7,000. Making $55,000 a year made it tough to meet my expenses. I depleted my savings. And then, I was unemployed. There went my savings.

So it's grand working as a finishing artisan, but guess what? I've got expenses of a $62,000 lifestyle still (car payment, credit card debt, the works), but I have a $20,000-a-year job. That is not working. And I'll just keep on going deeper and deeper and deeper into debt at $20,000 a year.

Now we've been here before, right? When I left the Senator's office, there was the job hunt. The idea of working behind a desk was misery. No way could I do that. And that's when I hit upon the whole welding idea.

But I had a realization today. it was really simple. I did good work at the Lower East Side Harm Reduction Center. And I had a blast doing it. For a lot of the time.

What did I do there? Here's what I did there. It was just like Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. When I came to the agency, they perceived themselves as edgy, funky, rule breakers, out there on the edge, bucking authority. And because of my street activism background, they liked me--and I had creds with the staff--because they thought I was edgy, funky, rule breaking, out there on the edge, and a bucker of authority.

I thought that this behavior was sort of adolescent. The Lower East Side Harm Reduction Center needed to grow up. They needed a makeover. When I got there, they operated out of three adjoining storefronts on Avenue C. It looked like hell. I changed that. We had no money to spare, and I was able to motivate staff to basically build walls for offices and do a complete paint job. I also put a PC on every desk, got us a real phone system, organized all of our files, made sure everybody had a title and job description and understood what they did, got us a great benefits package, rewrote the employee manual and made sure that the basis for everything that was in there was understood, and doubled the funding for the agency. My management style (as it's termed in B-schools), is collaborative. I build a management team, acting on the basis of personal relationships. When I've got someone--anyone--one on one over coffee and neither of us have any place to be at a given time, I can make anything happen.

What I did, I did well.

Not to say I'm perfect. The week-in, week-out routine stuff I was lousy at. So I made sure that my Number Two Guy was someone who thrived on that. There are such people in the world. I like innovation and making better, he likes stability and routine.

So anyway. This is going on and on. Sorry if it's all a little much. I'll get back to the hot and steamy stuff soon enough. Promise.

So anyway. I can do it. I can find a job--Yay, even a desk job--where I'll be happy. Where I can do good work. And make enough money to support myself. Now, it's gonna take time. the job market isn't great. And I'll be looking in Bucks County and Philadelphia, and not New York, and Philadelphia is not the progressive city. But I think I can pull it off. I think I'm ready to get back on the horse again.

I've learned some things. I've learned some basic aspects of discipline (getting up at whatever time is necessary to get to work on time, focusing on your work, learning, doing good work and not being caught up in "issues), I've learned that a job can just be a job. it's not your identity. It's not supposed to make you happy. And I've learned that poverty really sucks. it's no fun having my father field dunning phone calls from all the people I owe. it's not fun not having to count out your quarters because you've got a dinner date tomorrow night. A paycheck can be a good thing.

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