Earlier this week I went out to one of my projects to check on the status of the work and to touch base with the various people doing the work. One of the skilled craftsmen on the job is an older guy, probably in his mid fifties. A tall barrel chested guy, with sandy blond hair that is fading to gray. His face weathered from years of working in all seasons, he appears to be a dozen or so years older. This guy takes pride in his work, and I’ve never been disappointed in anything he’s built on one of my projects.
This particular day he had one kid working for him as they were doing their prep work. We got to talking and I asked him if the young man working for him was one of his boys. He answered in the affirmative and I could tell he thought very highly of his son. He went on to tell me that he’s got four sons, two of them are lazy and two of them are hard workers. This one’s a hard worker, he says.
We continue our conversation discussing various jobs we had when we were teenagers. Hard jobs. Construction jobs. The kind where the standard uniform is a hard hat, safety vest, t-shirt, denim jeans, and heavy boots regardless of how hot it gets. Let me tell you that at the end of 100-degree plus days you often find your clothing has rubbed you bloody in places you’d rather not think about. The worst part was knowing that the next morning I’d be putting on the exact same things that had rubbed me raw and going right back out into the heat. I survived and I learned a little about myself in the process.
The older guy lamented the work ethic of his two lazy kids. He pointed to his youngest son and goes on to tell me the kid, at 17 owns two pickup trucks, is an incredible mechanic, and does all kinds of jobs. He happily tells me his son earns all his money and used it to buy his trucks, and everything else he wants. He smiled and said it reminded him of himself at that age. Then he shrugged his shoulders and said matter of factly that by 19 he was married with a kid on the way.
Then he got a wistful look in his eye. He tells me his 19 year old son is worthless. Sucking off of his parents. When his parents tell him he needs to get a job, he tells them they need to “chill.” The old guy shook his head, “Chill” he repeated. He goes on to say that chilling doesn’t work too well when one needs to put food on the table. I smiled, he reminded me a lot of my grandfather. He went on to tell me he just doesn’t understand the kids today.
I decided to crack the door just a little bit. We talked about unemployment for the 18-30 crowd. The plethora of regulations and laws that exist to prevent kids in high school from doing the jobs that we did in our youth. I mentioned the empty praise and hollow affirmations that the public schools bestow in children today that inflate their egos and make them believe that honest hard work is beneath them. And then I talked just a bit about the pervasive misandry that exists in society today. The stuff that most see and dismiss without thinking about it.
He grew thoughtful for a moment. I could tell his son knew exactly what I was talking about. Where does it all end, he asked. I shrugged my shoulders. I told him I don’t know, but it it won’t be pretty.
