"Fuck you, you bitch! Can't you see it says bottles & cans only!" I'm jabbing the end of my broom into the recycle can trying to smash the copy of Frontiers magazine down inside. The top had a smallish circle on top just for bottles and cans and the magazine was sticking up out of the circle. Just this morning, Julio had informed us that the reason we are required to use the gardening/labor-style gloves provided was so we could stick our hands into the trash cans along Santa Monica Blvd. when they were overflowing and smush it down. That's what I was doing.
My hung-over, sleep deprived partner found it amusing. Which of course made it amusing for me. Soon we were both getting a good laugh. It was that kind of day.
I take 3 Aleve every morning. Today it didn't seem to help. But the time passed quickly and another half-day was done.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The Van
So the priority for this crew is Santa Monica Blvd. If there are 4 people, they'll all be there. The overflow, especially if you're only doing 4 hours, usually go to the van. It has a big, gated trailor that holds the cans, brooms and dustpans and bags of trash. The van crew will be dropped off at different places, wherever Julio decides.
As was pointed out to us today by a suit, Weho is only about 2 miles large, so you clean the same places with little variation. For example, I have cleaned the hill on La Cienega from Santa Monica up to Sunset and back, way too many times. I'm sure there will be many more yet.
The van can be a welcome respite, a chance to build camaraderie or a den of silence. Often you learn who to ignore, or who might be nice or entertaining, or who doesn't speak English, only in the van. The van picks you up if you're leaving at 10:30am, and everyone gets picked up and taken back to the park at lunchtime.
When I started, there was a girl doing full days, 5 days a week, to complete her sentence. She kept her backpack in the van everyday. In it she kept her antibacterial gel, face cleaner wipes, deodorant, etc. Back then, I thought maybe I should pick up some tips from her. But she was young. There was never any way I'd be doing 8hours/5days.
The van is the best time to talk to Julio, too. I've told him about seeing too many people I know while working Santa Monica, because my place of business is smack in the middle of it. Now he only puts me there when there's no other choice. And, only when I had a really shitty day, twice to be exact, I've expressed my distaste for my partner of the day, and so far, that was the end of our partnership.
In the van, you can relax and let off some steam. For the most part, people are pretty tame. Except for the occasional guy who decides to get into it with Julio.
As was pointed out to us today by a suit, Weho is only about 2 miles large, so you clean the same places with little variation. For example, I have cleaned the hill on La Cienega from Santa Monica up to Sunset and back, way too many times. I'm sure there will be many more yet.
The van can be a welcome respite, a chance to build camaraderie or a den of silence. Often you learn who to ignore, or who might be nice or entertaining, or who doesn't speak English, only in the van. The van picks you up if you're leaving at 10:30am, and everyone gets picked up and taken back to the park at lunchtime.
When I started, there was a girl doing full days, 5 days a week, to complete her sentence. She kept her backpack in the van everyday. In it she kept her antibacterial gel, face cleaner wipes, deodorant, etc. Back then, I thought maybe I should pick up some tips from her. But she was young. There was never any way I'd be doing 8hours/5days.
The van is the best time to talk to Julio, too. I've told him about seeing too many people I know while working Santa Monica, because my place of business is smack in the middle of it. Now he only puts me there when there's no other choice. And, only when I had a really shitty day, twice to be exact, I've expressed my distaste for my partner of the day, and so far, that was the end of our partnership.
In the van, you can relax and let off some steam. For the most part, people are pretty tame. Except for the occasional guy who decides to get into it with Julio.
Friday, September 18, 2009
P.S.
Oh, and that sweet gay guy that got 18 days for riding his bicycle on the sidewalk? Someone else told me that he'd been busted with pot (marijuana,weed) at the same time. Which is none of my beeswax except he actually said "Can you believe they gave me 18 days for riding my bike on the sidewalk?"
Last year when I did this I kind of lost interest in listening to people's stories of how they got in trouble because you always end up hearing an additional twist from someone else who'd worked with them. So I prefer to keep the conversation light and preferably entertaining. I want you to make me laugh, or say nothing at all.
Which is not how my day went today, since I was with the same guy as yesterday. At first I thought I might get lucky as he seemed more subdued for the first, oh, 15 minutes. Yesterday, it was right off the bat and nonstop for 3 hours, mostly about how he's not guilty (yea, you and half the other guys), and that his ex-wife wrote a somewhat successful screenplay 30 years ago.
I can't remember where it started today, but this guy has experience in everything from horses and Arlo Guthrie to speaking 3 languages and world travel. He pointed out the corner where Sal Mineo died and Gary Busey busted his head open crashing his motorcycle, and oh, he was a teacher for 40 years and thinks maybe the old in-school spanking system wasn't such a bad idea. He reminded me of that Jon Lovitz character on SNL, the one that has a new lie for every topic? Yea, that's the ticket.
I am not a fan of cocktail parties, and today reminded me of why. At least at a party I could escape.
An interesting small world tidbit though - he's talking about his ex who was raised in Bel-Air and made a few dollars on that screenplay and became an animal rescuer. She fell in love with teacup chihuahuas and had one named yo-yo. Then he said the woman's name, and I thought, OMG, I adopted my dog from that lady. She'd seemed a little different to me, but a lot of animal rescue people do, to me. Sure enough, a spoiled little rich girl who left Hollywood for the farm. Or something.
It made me miss my buddy Lance. Not the small world thing but working with this guy. Lance had to do this last year and we got partnered a lot. I don't think many people liked Lance. He made me look very balanced, which is when I know I've got a doosie (word?) on my hands. Maybe he was a little crazy. But if I wasn't in the mood to talk to him when we worked, he would do or say something so silly it would crack me up. And he'd tell me he was just trying to improve my day, or something.
Last year when I did this I kind of lost interest in listening to people's stories of how they got in trouble because you always end up hearing an additional twist from someone else who'd worked with them. So I prefer to keep the conversation light and preferably entertaining. I want you to make me laugh, or say nothing at all.
Which is not how my day went today, since I was with the same guy as yesterday. At first I thought I might get lucky as he seemed more subdued for the first, oh, 15 minutes. Yesterday, it was right off the bat and nonstop for 3 hours, mostly about how he's not guilty (yea, you and half the other guys), and that his ex-wife wrote a somewhat successful screenplay 30 years ago.
I can't remember where it started today, but this guy has experience in everything from horses and Arlo Guthrie to speaking 3 languages and world travel. He pointed out the corner where Sal Mineo died and Gary Busey busted his head open crashing his motorcycle, and oh, he was a teacher for 40 years and thinks maybe the old in-school spanking system wasn't such a bad idea. He reminded me of that Jon Lovitz character on SNL, the one that has a new lie for every topic? Yea, that's the ticket.
I am not a fan of cocktail parties, and today reminded me of why. At least at a party I could escape.
An interesting small world tidbit though - he's talking about his ex who was raised in Bel-Air and made a few dollars on that screenplay and became an animal rescuer. She fell in love with teacup chihuahuas and had one named yo-yo. Then he said the woman's name, and I thought, OMG, I adopted my dog from that lady. She'd seemed a little different to me, but a lot of animal rescue people do, to me. Sure enough, a spoiled little rich girl who left Hollywood for the farm. Or something.
It made me miss my buddy Lance. Not the small world thing but working with this guy. Lance had to do this last year and we got partnered a lot. I don't think many people liked Lance. He made me look very balanced, which is when I know I've got a doosie (word?) on my hands. Maybe he was a little crazy. But if I wasn't in the mood to talk to him when we worked, he would do or say something so silly it would crack me up. And he'd tell me he was just trying to improve my day, or something.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
blah blah blah
White guy, 59, 6'6", did not shut up the entire time. One of those people that make you wonder if they get out much, if they've discussed their case with anyone else, and if they have some need for validation.
I think some people need to talk. Some are uncomfortable with silence, I guess. I just go with it - if they need me to be involved in the conversation, I'll try to be cordial.
But give me a break.
I think some people need to talk. Some are uncomfortable with silence, I guess. I just go with it - if they need me to be involved in the conversation, I'll try to be cordial.
But give me a break.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Yesterday
was ridiculous. I get partnered w/ a 12-year-old trapped in a grown man's body. I thought I'd dated some freakishly immature men, but this guy probably beats them. He threw a tantrum because I wouldn't go super, super, slow and sweep up leaves. So he stormed ahead, leaving me with the can for the whole morning while he did as shitty a job as he could at trash pick-up. And he had to be around my age or older. I think it was a control issue. And of course, I really don't care.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Back to That 1st Day
It was hell. Again, having had no idea what to expect, I'd signed up for a full day. In my tight jeans and 85 degree sunshine.
I was partnered with a young Hispanic guy to clean the north side of Santa Monica Blvd., from Doheny, heading east. He said he had a wife, 3 or 4 kids, and was planning to be an actor. He was a nice guy to be with on my first day. Taught me about the butts. Told me we could take our time, spend an hour on each block. But no, I was intent to prove something and would cover as much ground as my physically fit self could.
He talked about movies, asked me what kind of music I liked, kept the conversation friendly and somewhat constant.
My wrists and forearms became sore just from carrying the broom in one and dustpan in the other. They each have handles which reach approximately from hand to ground length, give or take how tall you are and how much you have to stoop to maneuver the damn things.
That first day I felt humiliated. For a while, you cannot believe that this is you and you HAVE to pick up trash along a busy street and obey the rules or you will go to jail. I'm quite sure no one sees it in their future. So when it happens, you do kind of have to embrace it or you won't be able to get your ass there at 6:30am for as many days as it takes to complete your sentence.
I could not embrace it after that day and I didn't return for about a month. I think I collapsed that afternoon, and then cried to my mom that there was no way I could manage this monumental punishment.
I was partnered with a young Hispanic guy to clean the north side of Santa Monica Blvd., from Doheny, heading east. He said he had a wife, 3 or 4 kids, and was planning to be an actor. He was a nice guy to be with on my first day. Taught me about the butts. Told me we could take our time, spend an hour on each block. But no, I was intent to prove something and would cover as much ground as my physically fit self could.
He talked about movies, asked me what kind of music I liked, kept the conversation friendly and somewhat constant.
My wrists and forearms became sore just from carrying the broom in one and dustpan in the other. They each have handles which reach approximately from hand to ground length, give or take how tall you are and how much you have to stoop to maneuver the damn things.
That first day I felt humiliated. For a while, you cannot believe that this is you and you HAVE to pick up trash along a busy street and obey the rules or you will go to jail. I'm quite sure no one sees it in their future. So when it happens, you do kind of have to embrace it or you won't be able to get your ass there at 6:30am for as many days as it takes to complete your sentence.
I could not embrace it after that day and I didn't return for about a month. I think I collapsed that afternoon, and then cried to my mom that there was no way I could manage this monumental punishment.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Julio
Despite what you may hear from time to time on the crew, I think Julio is a stand-up guy. It isn't personal that he enforces the rules, I don't think. But then, I have heard him say, "If you thin' I don' like like you, I probably don'." But I don't think he shows favoritism. He'll joke with you, pick you up if your sick, you know, human stuff.
I think he's been here 10 years or so. He's around 30. U.S. citizen. Worked his way up with the company. I think he actually works for a company that's contracted with the city. And he goes to school. I don't think he sleeps much.
The radio in the van is on 90 percent of the time, and its always on the Christian station. Always. I've never heard anyone be disrespectful of that. I grew-up around that stuff so I can block it out or whatever. But if I was in a van spouting a religion over the radio that I am not so accustomed to hearing, one that spoke of things that I found offensive or disagreeable or annoying or whatnot, I would consider it an infringement of my rights to have to listen to it.
Sometimes I want to ask Julio if he believes that drugs truly open the door to Satan or if he forgives every single person who wrongs him, but I don't really want to have those conversations.
I think he's been here 10 years or so. He's around 30. U.S. citizen. Worked his way up with the company. I think he actually works for a company that's contracted with the city. And he goes to school. I don't think he sleeps much.
The radio in the van is on 90 percent of the time, and its always on the Christian station. Always. I've never heard anyone be disrespectful of that. I grew-up around that stuff so I can block it out or whatever. But if I was in a van spouting a religion over the radio that I am not so accustomed to hearing, one that spoke of things that I found offensive or disagreeable or annoying or whatnot, I would consider it an infringement of my rights to have to listen to it.
Sometimes I want to ask Julio if he believes that drugs truly open the door to Satan or if he forgives every single person who wrongs him, but I don't really want to have those conversations.
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