I am fortunate to have been offered a spot as a construction laborer in Webcor Builders at the Baymeadows site via my father’s connections in the job. Currently, he is my boss and the boss of others, as he is the foreman of our crew. This labor job is currently my seventh job experience in the U.S. preceding many other less physically-tasking jobs. Mentally, one could only prepare so much for the heavy work of a construction laborer.
This week marked the beginning of my summer job as a construction laborer. Starting on Monday, I have been helping my father in finishing daily tasks at the construction site. Each day has been unique in its own way, but looking back now (Wednesday), it feels as if time is going by very slowly.
4:36 AM - Monday
I am not excited to be disturbed in the midst of a peaceful dream by my father’s hand shaking me awake. I slip my new work boots on, brush my teeth, throw my jacket on and close the door behind me. The early morning air is brutal cold against my body. I had just woken up and my body is in sheer agony with any little breath of brisk wind against my bare skin. The first day is awfully intimidating. After a breakfast burrito and coffee from McDonald’s with my father, we head down to the site. I realize that we arrive early so everything is still. At 7:00 a.m., everything is running. The day is slow and I attend two very long trainings about safety. One by one, I am introduced to my father’s closest co-workers as the Sal “junior” (my father’s name is Salvador too). Most people, I find, are respectful. This day marked the beginning for me. The work was not too bad but it seems like I have yet to learn about the real labor or “jale” as they say in Spanish.
4:32 a.m. - Tuesday
I feel a hand shake my leg, another dream unfinished. I yell, “Alright, I’m getting up!”
...
4:38 a.m. - “Get up! We have to get going, what are you doing falling asleep again?” my father exclaims. It feels awful. Lesson number one begins here. Working in construction takes sacrifice. Getting up early in the morning tugging yourself to a physically-tasking job is already brutal enough. Mentally getting yourself to accept this as reality is the ultimate challenge. Any other morning I have had during college or before work in the past are child’s play compared to this daily routine. It is not fun getting up at 4:30 a.m., much less working as a laborer.
The Tuesday consisted mostly of sweeping and taping insulation onto new doors. Sounds fair enough; I can get that done. Eight hours later, blisters burst like over-inflated balloons from all over my hands. The protective face mask left my face with an awkward tan line. Coated in dust and sweat, I felt so drained. Walking in my own boots felt like my bones were nearly piecing out from my foot sole’s skin. One very physically tasking day: completed. That night I received over 12 hours of sleep, of which I can argue were really not enough to charge my body for the next day.
4:05 a.m. - Wednesday
For some reason, I was up early. Although my strength had fully regained, my mental self was not quite there. Today’s tasks: tape the news doors down entirely with insulation and fill holes on the floors with concrete. Sounds fair enough.
Suddenly, I started feeling delusional, catching myself often daydreaming about doing anything other than the job itself. I began pondering a seemingly unattainable less-physically tasking lifestyle while I was working. Laugh away, but I dreamed about flying in a private jet with stacks of cash flowing everywhere. Some moments I simply wanted to be with friend, laughing. I thought about life on a whole new conscious level. Somehow, my whole self was invested in the idea of living for the sake of living, not the money. Like I said, I was becoming delusional. This day was one of the most mentally challenging of all for myself as a worker. It is dangerous to work in such a field while not paying 100 percent attention. Although my tasks were moderately demanding, I found myself drifting slightly off during the morning. The day ended with me working on filling concrete holes with wet concrete, making sure everything was smoothed out.
Life only happens once. We live and we die. To me, the joys of life stem from a source that is unique from all other people. I live life perceiving objects and emotions in my own way. The lesson I am learning from the construction job is that some people do not have a choice in life but to work hard in order to survive. This made me question why then, is everybody so happy to be here? Why do all the gentlemen here all somehow find the will to get the job done? This is their world, and their expectations, for the majority are set in the labor force. For my father, living life is really enjoying the simple things. For me, it’s being creative. College is helping me to steer away from having a survival lifestyle, and helping me strive for a creative lifestyle. Maybe we do have a choice in life. Simply knowing we do is key, and as they say, “knowing is half the battle.”
