The old way

Another long week in Atlanta is now a memory. This last year of forty hour classes and proctored tests has taken me away from my family more than any year since Taylor was born and really even the twenty five years since PJ and I have been together. I think we have done pretty well with it, and come to find out my household will function without my supervision. But the weeks are beginning to become a blur. It would be different (I think) if the subject matter was the same, but we have jumped around a bit. Mixed in with the basic “whole house as a system” that this program is based on, we have taken classes in Thermographer imaging usage, pest control and even commercial construction safety. Yes, I am being re-trained as part of the Stimulus Package, but some days I’m not sure just exactly what I’m being re-trained to be.
Last week was the second (and final) of the commercial construction safety certifications I will be offered; the first one was basically just a study course for the second one anyway. So now after two weeks of information overload I am authorized to teach an OSHA construction safety class up to thirty hours in length. A pretty nice portable certification, I hope, for a guy that will have to re-invent himself again in less than a year. My resume looks a lot different than it did a year ago, but I’m not sure of its intended value in the small town I call home. Honestly I have never spent much time worrying about future employment, but I have never lived in a time when the economy was this bad. I have also never been forty eight years old.
Last week’s class was a little different than ones I’ve had before. Most of the ones I’ve attended lately begin with the each member of the class telling a little about themselves. Where they are from, where they work and what their interests are. The last instructor added “tell us something nobody knows about you” to the list; I thought that was a nice touch. A little window in to your personality. To me it was not so much the something itself as much as it was what you were willing to tell. The opportunity to describe yourself as you wish you were? Maybe. But it was right down my “people watching” alley because I usually sit around and imagine what I want to about the other students anyway. This was a very diverse group. We had students from 25 to 65 years old; students that called towns from New York to Miami home; students that were men and women of at least 6 different nationalities. Diverse.
Well this was a very short introduction to the class and its students, now the course begins. Industrial construction safety is, shall we say, not the most exciting course one might take. A course like this is made (or not) by the instructor. So short of standing there for five days lecturing about respirators, silicosis and mushroom caps on re-bar, our instructor took several different and interesting approaches. We played a few games and watched some silly videos and he broke us up in to seven groups that would give a one hour presentation on the last two days of the class. The instructor would choose the topic and the four other students that you would work with. Strangers that you would have only an hour at the end of each day to plan your presentation with. I, of course, got the guy that was a closet Green Bay Packers fan and the fat guy that dreamed of being a chef, but I did mention that this was a diverse group… right? Well, luckily we each had pretty strong ideas about how we wanted to do our part, so it went smoothly minus the fact that we went dead last and most of our topics had already been covered.
The part that gave me the most trouble about going last was this; everybody was really good! The majority of students were much better than I expected and I’m the one that gives everybody (according to my wife) way too much credit. Several were going to be hard acts to follow! But of all the presentations that day, only one bothered me. It was given by a twenty five year old safety manager from Alabama. He worked for a large construction company but dreamed of playing professional soccer. At least that was the thing that nobody would know about him…the person he wished he was. His presentation was on welding safety. I will add that entire class was blown away by his demeanor when it was “show time” because he had hardly said a word the entire week. He was good! He began by showing a few slides of welding equipment and tools, and then stopped on a slide that was an up close picture of a very rough looking older man. The man had obviously taken his “store bought teeth” out for the picture, and he was making a silly face with his eyes crossed. He had on overalls with the pant legs cut off and no shirt under the straps; a fuzz of red and gray hair covering his bare shoulders. If you were to look up redneck in the dictionary, his would be the picture attached. All of the students laughed at the image, and I would have to give the guy points for the distraction. But what followed really caught my attention, and kind of disturbed me; scared me.
“This is what we have to get rid of!” the young man said “This is the face of your typical construction worker, and it has to change. If I find this guy on my jobs, I will find a way to get rid of him! This is the old way and it scares me” Nobody said anything at this point and the young man proceeded with his presentation. His next slide was an image of a much younger man wearing a welding outfit that had obviously just been taken out of its packaging for the photo to be made. The guy modeling it looked to have recently received a fresh haircut and the only thing missing was the trained Palomino horse that he would ride home at the end of the day. He was… a young welding superhero.
As the young man finished his presentation, the lady sitting in front of me turned around slightly and looked at me. She was about my age, and had been an OSHA compliance for many years. She didn’t say anything, but I was pretty sure I knew what she was thinking. Before she could speak, one of the three co-workers of mine that were in the class poked me in the arm and said “That was really good.” I looked at him and catalogued the similarities he shared with the presenter. Their ages were pretty close; both could be my son. I just nodded my head and waited for the next student to stand before the class. Old guy…I’ll find a way to get rid of him…this is the old way; I could think of nothing else.
The day came to a close and I went back to the hotel to practice my presentation and study for the looming test. I had it down. I could recite my part about concrete tools without notes, and barring any type of last minute stage fright, I was ready. The old guy was giving a presentation about something that he had only learned a few days prior. Re-invention number…? Could this young man be right? How did I wake up one morning and be the old way? I had to get this out of my head and finish what I had started.
When I walked in to class the next morning, the lady that sat in front of me, the OSHA officer, was waiting for me at the door. She started talking about the young man’s presentation from the day before, and really she was talking so fast I was having a hard time understanding her. “I had to pray about it.” She said, “This is something that has followed me for my entire career.” I looked at her and decided again that she was about my age; maybe a little older. But she looked nothing like the old guy in the previous day’s photo. She was very nicely dressed and had on just the right amount of makeup and jewelry. She looked professional. “What do you think it has been like for in this business all these years?” she asked. “Honey, sugar, baby doll, I’ve heard them all. That boy yesterday is nothing but trouble.” At this point I’m thinking I missed something yesterday. He didn’t say anything about women. He was just knocking me, the old guy. The old way. “You let him get to court and tell the judge why he fired that guy. They will make a fool out of him!” she almost yelled, “A man that thinks like that will do the same with women, blacks, Mexicans and any other person on the job that is not just like him.”
Boy had I missed it. She was right. As soon as he had nailed me I had just turned on myself and turned off my logic. It wasn’t about the old guy…it was about tolerance. She had identified the big picture while I sat behind her feeling singled out; an antique. She had identified the problem, and it was neither of us. So this being said…who do you think was thinking the old way?