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It was back to the grind and judging by the sweat clinging to my T-shirt, I knew I was going to need approximately five gallons of water to get through the day.
We got in late last night after our paintball warring game, we’d headed back to camp to spend one more night, where we were constantly surrounded by others, making it impossible to talk. Then spent the day yesterday learning about Hansen Marketing tactics and their ideas on how to reach audiences. I’ve never felt so bored in my life.
The only fun part was getting to hang out with Viv and have her making marketing jokes in my ear while we listened to the many, many,manypresentations.
When that was finally done, I’d thought we were home free and planned on stopping by the store, making Viv dinner and then hopefully having a nice talk about things.
Instead, we’d been invited to a steak dinner at a porch-side restaurant with the Hansen folks. I didn’t think anyone was in any state to go to a steak house with the way we’d all been dressed, but you didn’t say no to Cyrus Hansen. Even though I was starting to think this whole hiring thing was ridiculous.
I went along with it because I knew how important this was to Viv.
But I was wondering, as I watched her correct several things in the presentation and then offer solutions to problems left and right, why she didn’t just start her own marketing firm? Why let someone else boss her and control her time when she was clearly suited for more than the grunt work?
I wanted to talk about that, too. By the time we’d finished dinner and made our way back to her place, it was well past ten and I had to be up at six to get to work. I knew we didn’t have enough time to talk through everything I wanted, so instead, I’d hopped out of the truck, rounded her side and gave her a kiss before watching her disappear into her building.
“Got your head on straight, man?”
I turn, yanking the rag out of my back pocket to wipe the sweat pouring off my head and eye Mason, the plumber, giving me a smirk.
“Aren’t you a little early? We’re not ready for plumbing yet.” I eye the studs of the house. The crew who were working on this house had been at it for a couple of months, logistically, they should be further along by now. But given that I was the new guy, I was doing my best to keep my head down. Devon, the foreman and person I was supposed to be shadowing, not showing up made that difficult.
Mason was someone I’d known since college. He left our school to go to trade school and became a journeyman plumber, from what I had heard last, he was doing really well for himself.
“I’m scoping the project out. Plus, they see a plumber and know they’ve got a lot of work to finish before I’m scheduled next week.”
I shake my head. “Fuck, you’re scheduled for next week?” No way were we ready for that. I wasn’t sure we even had electrical scheduled yet.
“Any ideas who your foreman is? I have a name but don’t have the face.”
I glance around, looking for Devon. “Nah, don’t see him. I don’t think he’s been on site today.”
“Of course he isn’t.” Mason tucks his clipboard against a hip and shakes his head. “They’re never there when you need them.”
“True, man.”
“How’s Enzo? The other guys too,” Mason asks. He knows Enzo because he used to come out for drinks with us all the time.
“Good. Working hard as usual. We should get a drink sometime,” I say.
“Moore! Get back to work.” I bite my tongue, pissed that I’m being told what to do by a grunt worker who’s been mouthing off all damn day. Not to mention this wasn’t my job, I wasn’t supposed to be helping these guys in this manner, but without the foreman here to set that straight, I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be doing.
“Alright, I’ll leave you to it, man.” We shake hands and Mason leaves the site, I’m sure he’ll be back to bug Devon.
This site is going to be a gorgeous freaking home. It’s not overly large, like some of the grand mansions you might see in the mountains here, but its final design that I’d snuck a peek of on Devon’s tablet last week was going to be gorgeous.
As I’m finishing up picking up a large pile of scrap and throwing it in the dumpster—not my job—a shiny black SUV pulls up to the site and a man in a suit steps out of the car, a woman who looks around his age steps out of the other side and comes around, she’s in a bright-red dress and both look like they’re heading somewhere much fancier than a jobsite.
“Can I help you?” I ask, noting that no one else is stepping forward to figure out who these two are.
“Yes, we’re the owners of this home. Where is Devon?”
I clear my throat and nod at his answer. “Mr. Brown isn’t here right now, but I can let him know you stopped by.”
“Where is he then?”
“I’m not sure, sir. I’m sure he’ll be by later if you’d like to wait.” I motion to a table set up filled with random tools, blueprints, and some extra hard hats. “I’d have to have you both wear a hard hat for safety since you’re on this site.”
