Wage Slavery

I have a job. That is to say I am employed. My job is to hand out tools to high school students and assist in the maintainence of the college motorfleet. This job is pleasant and easy. I get greasy and work on cars or I have some study time in between shop classes. Then there are times I end up doing incredibly unrelated tasks. Sometimes, this is fine with me. If they need something welded or a car hauled to the recycler, I get tasked with it. These things satisfy my need to do manly tasks when the doldrums of being a student want to drag me into a stupor of unhealthy feeling of impotence.

Then sometimes I get tasked with work no one else can do.

There was a time I was sent up to the roof to fix a skylight with a tarps and garden timbers. I basically lashed together a small raft to go over the leaking windows. That was not fun. Or I'll have to do whatever work the aged, tenaciously imbedded beauracrats are not permitted to do by their doctor. Such as dig up sprinklers. In the bottom of a pond.

The first question that should come to your mind is, "Why are there sprinklers in the bottom of a pond?"

I don't know. No one knows. They are there, and they are broken.

So, enter the student aid with a golf cart full of tools trying to dig up sprinklers in six inches of standing water in most cases, in others with a water table of about a foot. The sprinklers are hidden by a layer of sediment and no one asked the contractors who put the system in for a map of their work. That means I have to find the sprinklers under the mud.

It's just ridiculous.