I’m there. That place where men go to die. Where the thing they start to look forward to is pushing the shopping cart that holds their wife’s purse at Target. I’m not sure I can do it . . . Especially now that I’ve been forced into seclusion for over a year at the hand of COVID!
I thought it was going to be a wonderful change; no more quantity takeoffs from blueprints. No more hassling with labor crews or manufacturer’s unfulfilled shipping or performance promises. No more deadlines, where I’m threatened with great bodily harm at worst and ugly verbal abuse at best if the target date happens to pass with the project not yet complete.
But I miss it. I miss the camaraderie, the hunt for the next project, the joy at seeing the project captured, completed and the client happy. The sense of success of weathering every storm and leaping over (or at least breaking through) every hurdle set in my way.
I’m there. That place where men go to die. Where the thing they start to look forward to is pushing the shopping cart that holds their wife’s purse at Target. I’m not sure I can do it . . .
I thought it was going to be a wonderful change; no more quantity takeoffs from blueprints. No more hassling with labor crews or manufacturer’s unfulfilled shipping or performance promises. But I miss it. I miss the camaraderie, the hunt for the next project, the joy at seeing the project captured, completed and the client happy.