The environments that I work in and many of the people I encounter daily are vastly different from those I grew up in and around. I am most comfortable in situations that are disorganized and without pretense. The people who(m) I am most accustomed to are rough– they curse unapologetically, don’t even own dress shirts, drink beer from a can, speak directly, and have dirt/grease/oil staining their hands (not just under fingernails). I take a lot of pride in knowing that this is my background; I frequently I feel like a visitor in the professional world, like I could be sent away at any time for breaking social norms that I was not even aware of.
I habitually walk in places that I’m not supposed to. It’s unintentional. Growing up, I was allowed in boiler rooms, construction sites, and other potentially dangerous places because those were the job sites for my family and relatives. It’s instilled in me to watch for nails, look to see if I’m going to walk straight into boards at eye-level, and to keep my hands away from circular saws (“you don’t want to get your hand cut off. want someone else to have to do everything for you for the rest of your life?” -mom). When I walk around downtown during the week and see people-in-suits dodging uneven sidewalk or staying extreme distances from construction areas, I wonder if among them, there are any like me who feel more at home with sawdust and paint than with clip-on corporate ID tags and business lunches.
Yesterday, I walked through an area (that I was allowed to be in) where workers were dismantling scaffolding. At one point, chunks of concrete went flying down onto the sidewalk below. Immediately, a couple workers yelled to the others to “take it easy” and “watch it.” I received numerous apologies from four or five of the workers, even though nothing hit me and I was not jumpy or annoyed. I wished that there had been others around to hear the concern coming from men typically portrayed as uncaring and lewd.
