Hard Headed

One of the first things I was worried about when I got a job in the construction biz (that's what we call it, the biz) was having to wear a hard hat eight hours a day. I was nineteen with the neck and musculature of an eight-year old. I couldn't imagine having to support that thing all day. I showed up for my first job, hard hat on, with my shoulders already hurting from the walk from my car to the door.

"Oh, you don't need that," was the first thing my new boss said. We were working in an occupied building during the nights, so there was no need. But after six weeks I got transferred to another job, with hats full time, and began my very loving, very despising relationshipwith my hard hat.

We were working on the top of a building in DC and I didn't really see the need to wear a hard hat. Sure there was a giant crane carrying pallets full of bricks and water towers and shit, but if one of those fell, I didn't think my hard hat could prevent me from being dead.

I'd continually leave it lying around, and I'd constantly get yelled. It's sort of the example thing, if workers see someone from the general contractor not wearing a hard hat, it becomes 'well why the hell do we have to.'

So I'd have to retrace my steps, trying to remember where I took it off. And even if I was luck enought to figure that out, it was gone anyway because someone already hid it. So then I'd have to go back to the office and get a new one. And there they'd yell at me for being irresponsible. Then the old one would turn up and I'd get yelled at for having too many hard hats. Being me involves getting yelled at a lot.

A couple summers later, I was interning at another hotel in DC. My first day on the job I was getting a tour from my new boss.

"One of the things we have here is these really tricky access panels in the ceiling," he said. This was literally the first thing he said on the tour. They were huge, five feet by five feet wood panels. "They're a bit tricky, but I'll show you how to get them out."

He started to pull on it, and I was standing directly under it, trying to learn to just how stupid I really am. Of course his finger slipped. It fell, right on my head. It hurt, even with my damn hard hat on. But it probably would have hurt more.

So, with a goddamn panel dropped on my head my first day of work, you'd think I'd become one of those, 'Watch out guys, I've seen first hand what can happen, always wear you hard hat' guys."

No. Those things still suck. Usually I hold it in my hand while I walk around. The only good that does is keep me from getting yelled at when my boss approaches. But he caught on pretty quickly that I don't like to wear it and today, well, he beeped me on the radio. It was after three, everyone had left and it was a Friday. There's no fucking way I'm wearing that thing and he knew it. "Can you meet me down on four?"

I came jumping down the stairs and as soon as set my foot out the door, crash.

"OWW, FUCK!"

He'd been standing back to the wall, waiting for me to come down, and as soon as he saw my hair, he swung his hard hat at my head. He popped me good, but that wasn't the worst of it.

"Guess what?"

"What?"

"You just volunteered for something." He used volunteer the way a dictator uses the word volunteer. "I needed someone to lay out the all the wood base in the guest rooms. And you seem to want to."

"You mean every guest room?"

"Yup, all 300 of them."

So not only do I have a lump on my head, but I'll be on my knees the next two weeks, with only a tape measure and a pencil as my friends, marking where furniture goes, where base needs to be run and not be run. Believe me, it's a pain. And it's all because of a stupid hard hat. Although I guess this time it would have actually helped me out.

Naw, he probably would have made me do it anyway.