Opinion

The secret life of chem-plants

Homer Starkey
Opinion Columnist

I thought I had worked every bad job possible. Iive had the office job, which entailed my boss calling me into his office each week to reprimand me for something I didnit do. By this I mean something I should have done, but didnit do. Time flies when youire e-mailing your résumé to other companies.

I worked at a fast-food Mexican restaurant for approximately four hours before I threw my Mucho Taco apron to the floor and left behind minimum-wage humiliation and a head of lettuce for someone else to chop.

And letis not forget the time I was working at an adult video store when my priest walked in and asked me for the newest Jenna Jameson flick. Amen, father!

In these trying economic times, however, I find myself working in a place I thought was beneath even me: a chemical plant. How bad can it be, working outdoors in the hot Texas sun surrounded by huge tanks of oil and noxious gases? Read on, brothers and sisters. 

The first day on the job I met my supervisor, who told me how he loves to be "on his tools." I just nodded like I knew what he was talking about. 

He took me to meet the crew I would be working with. Once introductions were over, he informed the crew that I was working my way through college. He might as well have told them I had an extensive Build-A-Bear collection. 

When my foreman asked me what I went to school for, I didnit know if he was asking me why I was wasting my time or was genuinely interested in my studies. When I told him I wanted to be a writer, he spat tobacco on the ground and asked, "What, books and what-not?" Yes, I admitted, like the things they forced you to read in high school.

After getting sunburned the first day and praying for any form of cloud the rest of the week, I got to know the cast of characters I would be working with. The most interesting two were a 20-year-old who refers to his high school sweetheart as "his ex-old lady" and a welder who seems to communicate only by using hand signals and loud whistles. 

That was my first week. Will it be my last? Am I turning in my hard hat in favor of greener, non-toxic pastures?

I donit think so. You can see how well I handle myself in the food service and pornography industries. Plus, I could use a break from the contained life of cubicle confinement and coffee breaks.

Besides, thereis a twisted comfort in being out of your element. I highly recommend it. When you go back to your familiar grounds of livelihood, youill appreciate them that much more. 

So, even if the public restroom in my new surroundings is a port-a-potty that tests my breath-holding skills, Iim sticking it out for the summer. Sure, there will be days I'll wish for a good whiff of hydrogen sulfide to put me out of my misery, but at 5 oiclock Iill know I put in a good day's work (by the glow of my teeth, at very least). 

Man, if my ex-old lady could see me now.

Starkey, a post-baccalaureate student, can be reached at hstarkey@hotmail.com.