Building a House: Where the Blueprint Meets Reality

 

Building a house sounds pretty simple when you look at the plans.

You have a blueprint, you have measurements, you have lumber, and you have a bunch of people standing around saying, “This should go right here.”

Then you actually start building it.

That’s when the fun begins.

Especially when you’re learning from somebody like me.

I can probably confuse the heck out of someone who is just learning construction because I don't always do things the exact same way everybody else does. And before someone starts yelling, “You’re doing it wrong!”—hold on there, Sparky.

There’s usually a reason.

Sometimes I’ve found a better way to do something. Sometimes I’ve figured out a way to make the job easier, stronger, or faster. And sometimes the biggest reason is simple:

Not every house is the same.

You can’t always walk onto a job and say, “Well, this is how we did the last house, so we're doing it exactly the same way here.”

That’s how you end up fighting the house instead of building it.

Every house has its own little personality. One wall might cooperate beautifully. The next wall acts like it has a personal grudge against you.

You measure something three times, cut it once, put it in place, and suddenly you're standing there wondering if the tape measure has been lying to you.

The ultimate goal isn't to see who can build the house the exact same way every single time.

The goal is to get the house done in a reasonable amount of time, do quality workmanship, and make sure it’s actually built right.

If you finish ahead of schedule, even better.

That's called a good day.

Unfortunately, construction has a few other people involved who apparently enjoy making those good days harder to achieve.

Like the weather.

Mother Nature has absolutely no respect for your production schedule.

You can have everything lined up perfectly.

Lumber delivered.

Crew ready.

Tools working.

Coffee consumed.

And then Mother Nature walks in and says:

“That's cute. Here's six hours of rain.”

There goes the schedule.

Then there’s another favorite:

The house is framed.

Everything is looking good.

Walls are standing.

Rooms are taking shape.

You’re starting to see the actual house instead of a pile of lumber.

Then suddenly the builder has a designer come in.

And the designer says:

“Wouldn't it be nice if we moved this wall?”

No.

No, it would not.

That wall has already been built.

It has nails in it.

It has been measured.

It has been squared.

It has been stood up.

It has officially become part of the family.

And now you want to change it?

This is where construction can start feeling like you got handed a remodel before the homeowner even moved in.

“Hey, remember that perfectly good wall you just built?”

“Yeah.”

“Take it apart.”

“Why?”

“We decided we wanted something over here instead.”

That's always fun.

Especially when the change means taking away part of a solid wall to make room for something that probably should have been discussed before the house was already halfway built.

That’s one of the things people don't always understand about construction.

When you're building something, changes aren't always as simple as erasing a line on a piece of paper.

That wall might already have electrical planned around it.

It might have plumbing nearby.

It might be carrying something.

It might have another wall connected to it.

Or it might simply have 47 nails holding it together because apparently I got carried away.

Construction is a chain reaction.

Move one thing and suddenly five other things are standing there asking, “Well, what about us?”

That's why experience matters.

You learn that there isn't always one perfect way to build something.

You learn to look at the house in front of you instead of just the last house you built.

You learn when to follow the plans exactly, when to adjust your approach, and when to stop and say, “We probably should have figured this out before we built the wall.”

And most importantly, you learn that doing something different doesn't automatically mean you're doing it wrong.

Sometimes different means you've found a better way.

Sometimes different means the house requires a different solution.

And sometimes different means somebody changed the plans after you already built the damn thing.

That's construction.

You build.

You adjust.

You swear at the weather.

You move something.

You rebuild something.

You measure again.

You wonder who approved the change.

Then you keep going.

Because at the end of the day, the goal is pretty simple:

Build a good house, build it right, and get it done without turning the whole job into a three-year remodeling project before anyone even gets the keys.

And if we can finish ahead of schedule?

Well, that's just a bonus.

Just don't tell the designer.

They might find another wall for us to move.

The Never-Ending Battle of Feeling Better

 

You ever notice how your body has a sick sense of humor?

You finally start feeling better. You think, “Hey, maybe I’m getting back to normal!” You start moving around like a human being again, only to have your body suddenly announce:

“HAHA! You thought we were done?”

Apparently, my body has decided that feeling good is merely a temporary promotional offer.

First, it was my feet and back. After years of construction, manual labor, standing, walking, lifting, bending, twisting, climbing, and doing things that probably weren't listed under “recommended activities for maintaining a pain-free skeleton,” my feet and back decided they had officially had enough.

So I dealt with that.

Then came the neck.

Because apparently my body looked at the situation and said:

“We haven't messed with his neck yet. Send in the pain!”

Now my neck seems to be sore all the time. I can wake up feeling okay, turn my head the wrong direction, and suddenly I'm walking around like I just got challenged to a staring contest with a brick wall.

And just when I think, “Well, at least I don't feel sick,” here comes the sniffles.

Again.

They disappear.

I celebrate.

Then they come back.

SURPRISE! THE NOSE HAS RETURNED!

It's like my immune system has a subscription service I never signed up for.

I'll go several days thinking everything is finally clearing up. My nose is behaving. I'm breathing normally. I'm feeling decent.

Then suddenly...

SNIFF.

Here we go again.

At this point, I'm beginning to think my body is running some kind of construction project of its own.

Unfortunately, nobody gave me the blueprints.

Every time I get one problem under control, another one shows up and says, “Hey, I heard this place was hiring.”

Feet: sore.

Back: sore.

Neck: sore.

Nose: apparently has its own weather system.

Motivation: occasionally missing in action.

And my body is standing there like a contractor who keeps finding change orders.

“Oh, you wanted to feel normal? That's going to cost extra.”

The frustrating part is that sometimes you just want to get back to feeling like yourself. You don't need to feel twenty years younger. You don't need to run a marathon or climb Mount Everest.

You'd just like to wake up without needing a full diagnostic report before getting out of bed.

“Good morning, body. What's broken today?”

Neck?

Check.

Feet?

Check.

Back?

Check.

Sinuses?

Absolutely.

At times, it really does feel like a battle you aren't winning.

But I guess that's where you keep going.

You deal with what you can, rest when you need to, try to take care of yourself, and hope your body eventually gets tired of filing complaints.

Because apparently getting older isn't about becoming wiser.

It's about learning which body part is going to complain next.

And if everything feels good tomorrow?

I'm not celebrating.

I'm suspicious.

Because I've learned the hard way that whenever my body gets quiet...

it's probably planning something.

Here's hoping the next surprise isn't my knees filing for divorce.

Because at this point, I'm running out of replacement parts.

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Congratulations, You're Now the Oldest Guy on the Crew

 

There comes a moment in every construction worker’s life when you suddenly look around the jobsite and realize something horrifying:

You are now the oldest guy on the crew.

Not because you applied for the position.

Not because you wanted the responsibility.

And definitely not because anybody gave you a raise.

Nope.

You just showed up one morning, looked around, and realized everybody else looks like they still need permission to stay up past 10 p.m.

Meanwhile, somehow, you have become the Walking Construction Encyclopedia, Cleanup Department, Material Locator, Problem Solver, and Apparently the Only Guy Who Knows How to Finish a Job.

Welcome to the club.

The Young Guys Have Arrived

The young guys aren't necessarily bad workers. They can work.

Well... sometimes.

They'll work really hard right up until they notice somebody standing around doing absolutely nothing.

Then suddenly they become highly interested in that person's job.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, that sounds like my kind of work."

And just like that, they disappear from whatever they were supposed to be doing.

You can hand them a broom and say, "Clean this up."

Suddenly they develop a mysterious allergy to sweeping.

They'll stare at the mess like they're waiting for a construction fairy to come along and magically clean it up.

Meanwhile, you're standing there thinking:

"Apparently I am now the broom department."

Nobody Wants to Clean Up

Cleaning up seems to be the most complicated part of construction.

You can teach somebody how to cut material, install something, measure something, or operate equipment.

But apparently saying:

"Pick up the garbage you just created."

is an advanced skill requiring four years of college.

They'll walk right past a pile of scrap like it doesn't exist.

I'll be standing there thinking:

"You made that mess."

And they'll look at you like:

"Did I?"

Yes.

You did.

I watched you do it.

There is photographic evidence in my brain.

"I Can't Find It"

Then comes everyone's favorite jobsite adventure:

"Go find this."

You send them looking for something that has been sitting in the same place for approximately six months.

Five minutes later:

"I can't find it. I think we're out."

No.

We're not out.

You just didn't look.

So now the old guy has to stop what he's doing, walk over, look around for approximately seven seconds, and find it sitting right where it has always been.

Then comes the inevitable question:

"Where was it?"

You point.

"It's right there."

"Oh."

Then I have to say the sentence every old construction guy eventually learns by heart:

"If you actually looked, you would've found it."

And somehow this is shocking information.

It's not hidden treasure.

It's not buried under the floor.

It's sitting on the shelf with a giant label on it.

They Learn Just Enough to Be Dangerous

The funny thing is, they do learn.

That's the good part.

You show them something enough times and eventually they get it.

But there's a problem.

They learn just enough to start telling everybody else what to do.

Suddenly the apprentice who couldn't find a box of screws yesterday is standing there giving orders like he's running the entire company.

I'm thinking:

"Buddy, you just asked me where the tape measure was."

Slow down, General.

We're not storming Normandy.

We're installing siding.

And Then Comes the Clock

Nothing makes a young worker more interested in mathematics than the last hour of the workday.

Suddenly they know exactly what time it is.

"How much longer?"

"Can we leave early?"

"Are we done?"

"Are we going home?"

It's like they've got a built-in GPS programmed specifically to locate the nearest exit at 3:47 p.m.

Meanwhile, the old guy is thinking:

"We still have work to do."

They look at you like you've personally canceled their weekend.

I didn't cancel anything.

The job did.

The jobsite doesn't care about your plans.

Being the Oldest Guy Has Its Advantages

There is one benefit to being the oldest guy on the crew.

You've seen just about everything.

You've watched people make the same mistake 47 different ways.

You've learned what works, what doesn't, what breaks, what leaks, what falls apart, and what somebody is about to screw up before they even pick up the tool.

You don't necessarily know everything.

You just know enough to recognize trouble before it becomes expensive trouble.

And that's something you can't learn from watching five-minute videos online.

Experience comes from doing the work.

A lot of it.

Usually while somebody is standing behind you asking:

"How do you know that?"

Because I've been doing this long enough to remember when your favorite tool was a Tonka truck.

The Old Guy Still Gets It Done

So here I am.

Oldest guy on the crew.

Still working.

Still teaching.

Still cleaning up.

Still finding the stuff everybody else supposedly couldn't find.

Still answering questions.

Still watching somebody do something the hard way and thinking:

"There's an easier way to do that."

And yes, sometimes I have to remind the young guys:

"You don't have to like cleaning up. You just have to do it."

Because someday they're going to be the oldest guy on the crew.

And when that day comes, they'll look around at a bunch of young guys standing around asking:

"Where's this?"

"Can we go home?"

"Are we out of that?"

"How do you do this?"

And they'll finally understand.

They'll look at the mess, take a deep breath, and say:

"If you actually looked, you would've found it."

And somewhere, an old construction guy will smile.

Because the cycle has finally been completed.

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Mental Health: The People Saying " I'm Fine" Might Need a Little More Than That

 

Let’s talk about something we all have, whether we want to admit it or not: a brain.

Unfortunately, there is no owner's manual.

You can buy a $60,000 truck and get a 400-page manual explaining how to change the oil, reset the computer, and program the radio. But when your brain starts acting like it has 47 browser tabs open, three of them are frozen, and one is playing music you can't find, you're basically on your own.

Mental health is something a lot of people don't like talking about.

Some people will tell you, “I'm fine.”

And sometimes “I'm fine” means exactly that.

Other times, “I'm fine” means:

“I don't know how to explain what is going on in my head, so I'm going to pretend nothing is happening.”

And that's where things can get tricky.

Some People Are Really Good at Hiding It

You can't always look at someone and know they're struggling.

Somebody can go to work, crack jokes, talk to their friends, mow their lawn, post something ridiculous on Facebook, and still be dealing with things nobody else knows about.

That's why mental health can be harder to spot than a flat tire.

At least with a flat tire, the tire is sitting there saying, “HEY! I'M A PROBLEM!”

People aren't always that obvious.

Someone who normally talks all the time might suddenly become quiet.

Someone who always wants to go somewhere might start staying home.

Someone who is normally joking around might stop laughing.

Someone might start getting angry over little things.

They may stop taking care of themselves, stop doing things they normally enjoy, have trouble sleeping, sleep constantly, lose interest in people, or start acting completely different from their normal personality.

None of these things automatically mean someone has a mental health problem.

But they can be reasons to pay attention.

The Biggest Clue Might Be Change

You don't have to be a psychologist with a fancy office and a diploma hanging on the wall to notice something isn't right.

Sometimes you just have to know the person.

If your buddy normally calls you three times a week and suddenly disappears for a month, maybe don't assume he's just busy.

If someone who normally loves going fishing suddenly doesn't want to leave the house, maybe ask what's going on.

If somebody who is usually calm starts getting angry at everything, maybe there is something underneath that anger.

And if someone who normally says, “Let's go!” starts saying, “Nah, I'm good,” every single time?

Maybe check on them.

Not interrogate them.

Not give them a motivational speech.

Just check on them.

“You Good?” Can Be a Pretty Powerful Question

You don't have to sit somebody down like you're conducting a congressional investigation.

You can simply say:

“Hey, you good?”

If they say, “Yeah, I'm fine,” you can say:

“Okay. Just checking. If you're not, you can talk to me.”

That's it.

You don't need a 45-minute speech.

You don't need to fix their entire life.

Sometimes people just need to know somebody noticed.

And if they actually start talking?

Listen.

Don't immediately start telling them how you would handle it.

Don't compare their problem to yours.

Don't say, “Well, I've had it worse.”

And please don't hit them with the legendary:

“Just cheer up.”

If cheering up were that easy, we'd all be doing it.

Why Do People Ignore the Signs?

This is where things get complicated.

Some people were raised to believe that talking about feelings is weakness.

They were taught to keep their problems to themselves.

Others don't want to be a burden.

Some think nobody will understand.

Some don't even understand what they're feeling themselves.

And some people are simply hoping the problem will disappear.

There's also the classic human strategy:

“I'll deal with it tomorrow.”

Tomorrow becomes next week.

Next week becomes next month.

And eventually the problem has been sitting there so long that it feels impossible to deal with.

It's kind of like ignoring that weird noise coming from your vehicle.

At first it's:

“What's that?”

Then:

“It'll probably be fine.”

Then:

“I should probably have that checked.”

Then you're standing beside the road watching smoke come out of the engine thinking:

“Well...this escalated quickly.”

Mental health problems can work the same way.

Ignoring something doesn't necessarily make it disappear.

Don't Wait Until Someone Completely Falls Apart

One of the biggest mistakes we can make is waiting for somebody to completely break down before we take them seriously.

You don't have to wait until somebody is in a crisis to ask how they're doing.

Check on people when things seem normal.

Check on your friends.

Check on your family.

Check on the person who seems like they have everything together.

Because sometimes the person who looks like they have everything under control is the person working the hardest to keep everything from falling apart.

And if someone tells you they're struggling, take them seriously.

You don't have to have all the answers.

You can help them find someone who does.

And What About the Person Who Doesn't Want Help?

That's another tough one.

You can't force somebody to open up just because you noticed something.

But you can leave the door open.

Tell them:

“You don't have to talk about it right now. But if you ever do, I'm here.”

That can mean more than you realize.

Keep checking in.

Not every five minutes like a helicopter parent.

But don't completely disappear either.

Sometimes consistency matters.

Watch for the Big Warning Signs

If someone talks about wanting to die, hurting themselves, feeling like there is no reason to live, being a burden, or not being able to go on, that's not something to brush off.

That's a time to take the situation seriously and get immediate help from a qualified mental health professional, crisis service, or emergency service—especially if there is an immediate danger.

You don't have to diagnose them.

You don't have to become their therapist.

You just need to recognize that this is bigger than “cheer up.”

You Don't Have to Fix Everybody

Here's the part that is important:

You are allowed to care about somebody without being responsible for fixing them.

You can listen.

You can encourage them to get help.

You can check in.

You can sit with them.

You can remind them that they're not alone.

But you aren't required to have every answer.

Sometimes the best thing you can do is help somebody take the next step.

Not the next 47 steps.

Just the next one.

So Maybe Check on Somebody

Mental health isn't always obvious.

Sometimes the warning sign isn't somebody crying.

Sometimes it's the person who suddenly stops talking.

Sometimes it's anger.

Sometimes it's isolation.

Sometimes it's sleeping all day.

Sometimes it's working constantly so they don't have to think.

Sometimes it's making jokes about everything because joking is easier than talking about what's actually going on.

And sometimes it's simply saying:

“I'm fine.”

So the next time somebody says they're fine, you don't have to panic and assume something is wrong.

But if you've noticed they're acting different, maybe ask again.

“You sure?”

Because five seconds of genuine concern could open a conversation that somebody desperately needed to have.

And if you're the person reading this thinking, “Yeah...I'm the one who keeps saying I'm fine,” maybe it's time to stop trying to carry the entire toolbox by yourself.

Even the toughest people need somebody to help hold the ladder sometimes.

And there's absolutely nothing weak about that.

The Insurance Company's Favorite Hobby: Raising Your Rates

 

Apparently, having a clean driving record is no longer something your insurance company rewards.

You can drive for years without an accident. No speeding tickets. No claims. No mysterious dents appearing in the parking lot. You could practically have your vehicle blessed by the Pope of Safe Driving.

And then one day, you open your insurance bill and discover that congratulations are in order…

Your rates went up!

Why?

Well, apparently because you exist.

Maybe the insurance company had a meeting that morning.

“Okay, everybody, we need to find a reason to raise Chad’s insurance.”

“Has he had an accident?”

“Nope.”

“Any tickets?”

“Nope.”

“Filed any claims?”

“Not one.”

“Does he drive responsibly?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Damn. Okay, raise the rates anyway.”

Apparently insurance companies have discovered the magical business strategy of charging you more while giving you absolutely nothing extra.

And let's talk about what happens when you actually need them.

You spend years paying premiums. Month after month. Year after year.

You faithfully hand over your money like you're feeding a parking meter that has no expiration date.

Then something happens to your vehicle and suddenly it's time to determine what your beloved vehicle is "worth."

And apparently what you paid for it doesn't matter.

You paid $35,000?

“Well, according to our calculations, your vehicle is worth $24,000.”

Wait a minute…

I didn't pay $24,000 for it!

“Well, depreciation…”

Oh, of course.

Depreciation.

That magical word that apparently only works in one direction.

They can raise the cost of insuring your vehicle because repairs, parts, labor and everything else are more expensive.

But when it's time to replace your vehicle?

Suddenly your vehicle has aged 47 years overnight and is apparently worth about the same as a lawn chair with one missing leg.

You could have a vehicle that's in excellent condition, maintained perfectly, low mileage, and cleaner than some people's kitchens.

Insurance company:

“Yeah… we'll give you the low-end value.”

It's almost impressive.

They have figured out how to charge you based on the expensive world while paying you based on the cheap world.

And don't even get me started on the phrase “your premium adjustment.”

That's insurance-company language for:

“We're taking more of your money.”

But don't worry!

They'll send you a nice letter explaining it.

Because nothing makes losing another chunk of your paycheck feel better than receiving a professionally printed explanation about why they're doing it.

Meanwhile, you're sitting there thinking:

“I've never crashed into anybody. Nobody has crashed into me. I haven't filed a claim. What exactly am I being punished for?”

Apparently, you're being punished for inflation, repair costs, vehicle values, weather, other drivers, statistics, the economy, and probably the alignment of Jupiter.

At this point, I'm expecting my next insurance bill to say:

Reason for rate increase: Mercury is in retrograde.

The funniest part is that you can be one of the safest drivers on the road and still get treated like you're personally responsible for every idiot who thinks a turn signal is an optional accessory.

Some guy driving 90 mph while texting and eating a cheeseburger gets into a six-car accident.

Insurance company:

“This is going to affect everybody's rates.”

Me:

“But I wasn't there!”

Insurance company:

“We know.”

“Did I cause it?”

“No.”

“Did I file a claim?”

“No.”

“Then why am I paying for it?”

“Thank you for your continued business.”

And that's when you realize the entire system is basically a relationship where one person keeps saying:

“I don't know what you're upset about. I'm still taking care of you.”

Meanwhile, you're standing there holding your insurance bill wondering if you should start riding a bicycle.

Then you remember bicycle insurance probably costs $400 a month.

So you keep driving.

Because apparently that's the only thing we're allowed to do.

At the end of the day, insurance is necessary. I get it. Accidents happen, vehicles get damaged, people make mistakes and repairs aren't cheap.

But it sure would be nice if being a responsible driver actually counted for something.

If I go years without an accident, never file a claim and maintain a clean driving record, maybe don't treat me like I just won the Annual Insurance Company’s Biggest Liability Award.

And if you do have to replace my vehicle, at least don't act like it's suddenly worth the same as a rusty shopping cart because it has depreciated.

I paid good money for that thing.

You took my money every month.

You raised my rates.

You watched the value go down.

And somehow, I'm still the one getting the bad deal.

Maybe someday insurance companies will discover a revolutionary new concept:

Rewarding the people who don't cost them money.

Until then, I guess I'll keep driving carefully, avoiding accidents, paying my premiums and waiting patiently for my next bill.

I'm sure it'll be a pleasant surprise.

Probably right around the same time pigs learn to fly.

And knowing my luck…

I'll probably have to insure those pigs too.

Fairs: Where Fun, Food, Animals, and Loud Engines Collide

 

There is just something about going to a fair. You can show up thinking you're going to walk around for an hour, look at some animals, eat something you probably shouldn't, and head home.

Then you hear an engine fire up.

Suddenly, that one-hour trip has turned into an all-day event.

Fairs have a little bit of everything. You've got rides spinning people around until they question every life decision they've ever made, games where you somehow spend $20 trying to win a stuffed animal worth $3, and enough fried food to make your doctor want to have a serious conversation with you.

But the real fun is out in the grandstands and fairgrounds.

Demolition derbies are one of my favorites. Nothing says family entertainment quite like watching somebody intentionally drive a car into another car. You sit there thinking, "Yep, this seems perfectly reasonable." Then somebody hits the gas and turns two vehicles into modern art.

And then there are the tractor pulls.

You haven't experienced horsepower until you've watched a tractor pull something ridiculously heavy while the engine sounds like it is trying to pull the Earth itself out of orbit. The crowd gets louder, the tractor gets louder, and eventually you're pretty sure your fillings are vibrating.

Then you've got horse pulls, where those massive horses show just how strong they really are. It's pretty impressive watching them work together and pull weights that make you wonder how anyone ever looked at a horse and thought, "You know what? I bet that thing can move a building."

And let's not forget about all the kids showing animals.

You've got kids walking around with cows, pigs, sheep, goats, rabbits, chickens, and just about every other farm animal you can think of. These kids put a ton of work into taking care of their animals and showing them off.

Meanwhile, some of us struggle to keep a houseplant alive.

Then, just when you think you've seen everything, you find out the fair has a concert.

Now you've gone from watching tractors pull, horses pull, cars crash, and kids show animals to standing in front of a stage listening to live music.

That's the great thing about fairs. You never really know what you're going to see.

You can go for the demolition derby and end up watching a horse show.

You can go for the tractor pull and end up eating a giant elephant ear.

You can go to see the animals and somehow leave with a stuffed animal you won at a game you swore you weren't going to play.

And of course, you can't leave without walking past all the food vendors thinking:

"I probably shouldn't eat that."

Then five minutes later:

"I'll take one of those."

That's the magic of a fair.

It's loud. It's crowded. It's a little ridiculous. It's full of engines, animals, music, rides, food, and people having a good time.

And honestly, that's exactly how summer is supposed to be.

So if you get the chance to hit a local fair this summer, go check it out. Walk around, watch the kids show their animals, cheer for the tractor pulls, enjoy the demolition derby, listen to some live music, and eat something that definitely wasn't approved by your diet.

Because sometimes you don't need a fancy vacation.

Sometimes you just need a fair, a loud engine, a little sunshine, and something deep-fried on a stick.

Now that's a day worth having a chuckle about.

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Burned Out, Underpaid, and Somehow Still Showing Up

You ever get to that point where your alarm goes off in the morning and your first thought isn't “Good morning!”

It's:

“Seriously? We are doing this shit AGAIN?”

Same job.

Same routine.

Same tools.

Same problems.

Same people asking why something isn't done yet when you've been busting your ass trying to get it done yesterday.

At some point, you don't even feel like you're going to work anymore.

You feel like you're being sent back into a video game you've already beaten.

Except there is no new level.

No bonus round.

No cool prize.

Just another Monday.

And another Tuesday.

And another Wednesday where you're starting to wonder if Thursday is even worth getting excited about.

Welcome to Construction Burnout

Construction is one of those industries where you can actually know what you're doing and somehow that's your punishment.

You get experienced.

You learn how to solve problems.

You figure out how to get things done correctly and in a reasonable amount of time.

You learn what works, what doesn't work, and how to fix the stuff somebody else screwed up before you got there.

You become the person everyone calls when something needs to get done.

And then eventually you look at your paycheck and think:

“Wait... you knew I could do all that and THAT'S what you're paying me?”

Apparently experience has no cash value.

Maybe they should start putting it on the stock market.

Chad's Experience Futures: currently trading at three dollars and a half-eaten sandwich.

And Then There Are Holidays

I remember when getting a holiday off actually meant something.

You got paid.

You had a little breathing room.

You could enjoy the day without thinking about whether taking a day off was going to hurt your next paycheck.

Now holidays can feel like somebody handed you a calendar and said:

“Congratulations! You don't have to work today. Also, you don't get paid. Have fun!”

Oh, thank you.

What a generous offer.

I'm going to celebrate my freedom by sitting at home calculating how much money I just lost.

Happy Labor Day!

Nothing says celebration of American workers like the American worker wondering why he isn't getting paid.

Michigan Construction: The Never-Ending Episode

And working construction in Michigan can make the whole thing even more entertaining.

You've got heat.

Cold.

Rain.

Snow.

Mud.

Ice.

Wind.

And occasionally all four before lunch because Michigan apparently can't decide what season it wants to be.

You show up and work through it.

You get the job done.

You keep moving.

You figure things out.

And somehow the reward for being efficient is:

“Great job! Now you can do more.”

Oh good!

I was worried I might get to go home on time.

Why finish one thing when we can give you three more things?

Why reward experience when we can simply increase the workload?

It's the construction industry's version of a fitness program.

Except you don't lose weight. You lose patience.

The Big Question

Eventually you start thinking:

“Maybe I should find another place.”

So you start looking.

Then you see the job postings.

Competitive pay!

Great company culture!

Opportunities for growth!

We value our employees!

And you're sitting there thinking:

“I've heard this episode before.”

Because what if you leave the job you're burned out at just to become burned out somewhere else?

Different company.

Different boss.

Different truck.

Different jobsite.

Same circus.

You might even get a raise.

Then you realize the raise comes with another 47 responsibilities and somebody calling you at 6:02 in the morning asking if you can “just swing by real quick.”

Sure.

“Real quick.”

Those are famous last words in construction.

So Here I Am

I'm not tired of working.

That's the funny part.

I've worked hard for years.

I know how to work.

I know how to get things done.

What I'm tired of is feeling like all that experience doesn't mean much when it comes time to getting paid for it.

I'm tired of doing the same thing over and over and wondering where the excitement went.

I'm tired of looking at another holiday and realizing it isn't really a holiday when your paycheck takes the day off too.

And I'm tired of wondering whether finding another job would actually solve anything.

Maybe I need a new job.

Maybe I need something completely different.

Maybe I need to win the lottery.

Unfortunately, my lottery strategy currently consists of not buying a ticket, so I'm not exactly crushing that plan.

For now, I guess I'll keep showing up.

Keep doing the work.

Keep fixing things.

Keep getting the job done.

And keep wondering if there is somewhere out there where experience, hard work, and actually knowing what you're doing are worth more than a pat on the back and another job added to the list.

Because eventually, even the hardest-working person reaches the point where the body says:

“I'm done.”

The brain says:

“I'm done.”

The wallet says:

“Absolutely not, keep working.”

And the alarm clock says:

“See you at 5:00 AM, sucker.”

So you get up.

Drink your coffee.

Grab your tools.

Head out the door.

And do it all over again.

Because apparently that's what we call job security.

Same job. Same routine. Same burnout.

But hey...

At least the screws are still going in straight.

Put the Phone Down -- I'm Too Busy Living the Mess

 

I’ve noticed something about people these days.

Something happens and the first thing they do is WHIP OUT THE PHONE!

Boom! Picture.

Boom! Video.

Boom! Selfie.

Boom! Thirty-seven pictures of the same sunset from slightly different angles.

And I’m standing there thinking…

“Are you actually experiencing this, or are you filming evidence that you experienced it?”

I’m not saying I never use my phone. I use mine all the time.

I text.

I talk.

I scroll through social media.

I look at things I probably shouldn't be looking at.

I watch videos that somehow turn into an hour of my life disappearing.

You know… normal phone activities.

But taking pictures of myself?

Yeah, not exactly my specialty.

If I’m somewhere doing something, I'm usually too busy doing whatever stupid thing I got myself into to stop and take 47 pictures of myself doing it.

I don't need a selfie while I'm working.

I don't need a picture of myself standing beside a tree.

I don't need photographic evidence that I went somewhere.

And I definitely don't need a video of myself saying:

“Hey guys! I'm here!”

Meanwhile, I'm thinking:

“Yes, Chad. We can see you're there. You're holding the phone.”

😂

Some people have their phones out so much you'd think they're being paid by the shutter click.

They'll walk into a restaurant:

📸

See their food:

📸

Take a picture of themselves with the food:

📸

Take another picture because their face looked weird:

📸

Take another because somebody blinked:

📸

Then spend ten minutes editing the picture of the meal they already ate.

Meanwhile, I'm halfway through my food thinking:

“Well, that was good.”

And that's it.

No photographic evidence.

The memory is stored somewhere in my brain.

Probably next to all the other stuff I've forgotten.

😂

And here's the funny part.

If I actually DO take a picture, it's probably not even of me.

I'll take a picture of something I think is cool.

A car.

A crazy project.

Something happening that I don't see every day.

A ridiculous situation.

Something that makes me laugh.

Because if I'm taking my phone out, there's probably a reason.

And that reason usually isn't my face.

My life is already enough of a reality show without me becoming the cameraman.

I'm out here working, fixing things, building things, tearing things apart, trying to figure out why something isn't working, wondering where I put my tools, looking for the thing I was literally holding five minutes ago…

I've got enough going on!

You want me to stop everything and take pictures?

Buddy, I'm barely keeping the main character alive.

😂

I don't need a camera crew following me around.

If somebody wants pictures of my life, they're going to have to catch me while I'm actually doing something.

And good luck with that.

Because by the time you get the camera ready, I'll probably be halfway through another project, covered in dirt, sweating, looking for something I misplaced and wondering why I thought this was a good idea in the first place.

That's my kind of documentation.

Not:

“Look at me!”

More like:

“Look what I got myself into this time.”

And honestly, I think that's okay.

Not every moment needs to be photographed.

Not every meal needs to be posted.

Not every vacation needs 600 pictures.

Not every day needs a selfie.

Sometimes you can just put the phone down and experience the moment.

You might actually remember it.

And if you don't?

Well…

That's what social media is for.

Somebody else probably took 600 pictures of the exact same thing anyway.

😂

So no, I probably won't have a thousand pictures documenting my life.

I'll have a handful of random pictures of cars, projects, cool stuff and things that made me laugh.

The rest?

You'll just have to take my word for it.

I was there.

I was doing stuff.

It was probably ridiculous.

And no…

I didn't take a picture.

I was too busy living my beautifully messed-up life.

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I'm Not Going With the Flow-- I'm Going My Own Way

Apparently, I missed the meeting where everybody decided how we’re supposed to live our lives.

You know the meeting I’m talking about.

The one where they explain what you’re supposed to wear, what you're supposed to think, what you're supposed to like, what you're supposed to believe, what kind of car you're supposed to drive, and apparently even what opinions you're allowed to have this week.

Yeah... I wasn't invited.

And honestly, I'm okay with that.

I’m my own person.

I don't need to go with the flow just because everybody else is floating down the same river like a bunch of people who forgot to ask where the river is going.

Sometimes I look around at the world and think, “Am I supposed to be doing that too?”

Then I think about it for approximately three seconds and say:

“Nah. I'm good.”

I don't need to follow the crowd just because the crowd is moving.

If everybody jumps off the bridge, I'm probably going to stand there and say, “You guys might want to rethink this.”

That's not being difficult.

That's called having a brain.

Now, being your own person doesn't mean you get to do whatever you want with zero consequences. There's a pretty important line there.

Do what you want, live how you want, believe what you want, chase what makes you happy — just don't hurt somebody or take somebody's life in the process.

That's a pretty reasonable rule.

I don't care if your hobby is collecting rubber ducks, riding motorcycles, restoring old cars, wearing clothes I wouldn't be caught dead in, or spending $800 on something I could build for $37 at the hardware store.

Have fun.

I'll probably still make fun of you, but I'll respect your right to be you.

Because that's the thing people seem to forget.

You don't have to agree with somebody to let them live their life.

I don't need everyone thinking like me.

If everybody thought exactly like me, we'd probably have a lot of great ideas...

…and absolutely nobody to argue with.

And where's the fun in that?

I'm not interested in becoming a carbon copy of everybody else just so I can fit in.

I've spent enough time on this planet to realize that trying to make everybody happy is a full-time job with terrible pay and no benefits.

So I'm going to be me.

I'm going to make my own decisions.

I'm going to make mistakes.

I'm going to learn from some of them.

I'm probably going to repeat a few because apparently I'm committed to quality control.

And I'm going to keep moving forward.

The world can keep telling me which direction the flow is going.

I'll listen.

I'll consider it.

And then I'll decide whether I'm getting in the water.

Because I'm not here to live somebody else's version of my life.

I'm here to live mine.

And if that means swimming against the current once in a while?

Fine.

Just don't ask me to wear a life jacket that says “Everybody Else Is Doing It.”

I've got my own Chuckles.

Woodward Dream Cruise: Where Anything With Wheels Is Suddenly a Parade Float

 

It’s that time of year again when Woodward Avenue becomes the unofficial capital of horsepower, chrome, loud exhausts, and questionable decisions involving rear tires.

The Woodward Dream Cruise brings people from all over to cruise down Woodward Avenue just to show off their cars, check out everybody else’s rides, and probably spend half the day wondering why they thought sitting in traffic was a good idea.

And honestly… it’s awesome.

I don’t have a car to take to the cruise this year, so I’ll be enjoying it from the sidelines. But that doesn’t mean I’m missing out. One of the best parts of the Dream Cruise is seeing what everybody else brings.

You’ve got the old classics that look like they just rolled out of a 1950s showroom. Then you have the modern cars that are basically a brand-new version of something your dad probably drove. And then there are the completely ridiculous creations where you stand there thinking:

“I have absolutely no idea what I’m looking at… but I want one.”

There are muscle cars, hot rods, trucks, motorcycles, exotics, custom builds, restored cars, rat rods and cars with enough modifications to make you wonder if the owner actually remembers what the vehicle looked like when they bought it.

And then there’s the burnout.

You can pretty much count on seeing somebody decide that their tires have lived long enough and it’s time to send them into retirement.

Smoke starts rolling.

Everyone pulls out their phones.

Someone yells.

Someone else says, “Do it again!”

And somewhere nearby, a tire manufacturer quietly smiles.

That’s part of what makes Woodward so entertaining. You never really know what’s going to come cruising by next.

If it has wheels and a motor, there’s a pretty good chance you’ll see it somewhere on Woodward.

It doesn't matter if it's a $100,000 muscle car, a beautifully restored classic, a ridiculous custom creation, a brand-new performance car, or something that looks like it was assembled in somebody's garage at 2 a.m. with three buddies and a questionable amount of caffeine.

It belongs at the Dream Cruise.

And that's really what I enjoy about it. It's not just about the cars. It's about the people who are crazy enough to spend countless hours building, restoring, modifying, polishing and occasionally destroying their tires just to have some fun.

Woodward turns a regular road into one giant rolling car show.

You can walk around and see something different every few minutes.

Then you hear an engine roar behind you.

You turn around.

“What the heck is THAT?”

And five minutes later you're saying the same thing again.

That's Woodward.

So while I won't be bringing a car to the Dream Cruise this year, I'll still be enjoying the show. I'll be checking out the classics, admiring the crazy builds, watching the modern muscle, listening to the engines and waiting for that unmistakable sound of someone deciding:

“Yep… these tires still have a little smoke left in them.”

Woodward Dream Cruise isn't really just a car show.

It's more like Michigan temporarily forgetting that Woodward Avenue is supposed to be a normal road.

And honestly, I'm perfectly fine with that.

Because if it has wheels, a motor, and enough personality to make you stop and stare…

I'll probably see it somewhere on Woodward.

And if you hear a burnout coming from three blocks away?

Don't worry.

That's just another Woodward Dream Cruise welcome announcement. 😂

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Michigan's Biggest Boat Party: The Raft Off - Where Good Decisions Go to Float Away

If you've never heard of Michigan's Raft Off, imagine thousands of boats tied together in the middle of the water, music blasting from every direction, people dancing on decks that are barely wider than a picnic table, and enough coolers to stock a small grocery store. That's pretty much the highlight reel.

I didn't make it this year, but every time I see pictures and videos, I think, "Yep... that's Michigan in the summertime."

It's one of those events where people spend all winter dreaming about finally getting the boat in the water. Then they spend half their paycheck on gas just to float around with friends and pretend they're captains of luxury yachts.

The creativity is half the fun. Every year someone shows up with a floating tiki bar, another person builds a second-story deck on a pontoon, and somebody always has a grill cooking burgers like they're hosting a backyard barbecue... except the backyard happens to be Lake St. Clair.

Speaking of the Tiki Barge, that's usually where the party really gets rolling. Good music, good people, cold drinks, and enough dancing to make you wonder how nobody has accidentally moonwalked into the lake.

Of course, there's also one thing that flows almost as freely as the water...

Beer.

Let's just say if there were an Olympic event for holding a drink while balancing on two moving boats, Michigan would take home the gold medal every year.

Now here's the real pro tip that seasoned boaters already know:

Don't leave at 5:00.

Everyone else has the exact same brilliant idea.

You end up in the world's slowest boat traffic jam. Boats going every direction, people waving each other through like a four-way stop that nobody understands, and enough wake to make you question whether you should've worn a life jacket just to walk back to your seat.

The smarter move? Hang out until around 7:00 PM.

Let the rush clear out.

Watch another sunset.

Listen to a little more music.

Maybe grab one last burger before heading home without feeling like you're sitting on I-94... except everyone is floating.

Michigan may not have palm trees or crystal-clear Caribbean water, but we've got something just as good—a boating culture that knows how to have fun. From decked-out pontoons and speedboats to floating tiki bars and friendships that only happen on the water, the Raft Off is one of those traditions that reminds you why summer in Michigan is worth waiting for.

Just remember...

Designate a sober captain.

Wear your life jacket when it makes sense.

Respect the water.

And if someone asks if one more boat can squeeze into the raft...

The answer is always, "Probably... but we're about to find out."

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