Lately, at my job things have been changing quickly and dramatically. I work as a Surveyor for a large Southeastern corporation. We do all kinds of work from construction stake-out, to large boundary surveys, it's never boring. It can get dirty, but never boring. I'm not saying it's a tough job, but I will say most people can't handle killing 6' rattlers and wading waist deep in swamps with water moccasins just so they can have a map of some property to build another Wal-Mart. I've been in jungle so thick Indiana Jones would say,"Fuck this shit!"
My job title on the field crew is "Instrument Man", which basically means I run the machinery involved in the job (the survey instrument, the data collector) while the Crew Chief maps out our "game plan" and moves the prism target around the job for me. It's basically second in command. Of course, there's really only three spots on a field crew anyway (Crew Chief, Instrument Man, Rod Man), but it takes a decent amount of knowledge to be anything besides a Rod Man who just holds a prism pole.
So anyway, I've been working lately with Gene from the Mobile office since everyone in my local office left the company and I'm the only local field guy left. You need at least two guys to do a job, and they've been sending guys like Gene from other offices down to ours. I like Gene, he's very laid back. The first time I saw him I thought I might be in trouble having to work with him, however. He cuts a very different first impression than his true personality, mainly because of his physical presence. A 6' tall frame of a man built like an oak barrel and a dip of chewing tobacco in his mouth. His skins a few shades above pale and lightly freckled and his hair isn't red but almost orange and very soft looking and practically translucent, to match his Irish skin tone.
After a few hours of working with him, however, I came to realize he was just a big fellow with a teenagers disposition, and not the no-nonsense hard ass he would initially appear that he would be. We've been working together for at least a month now and getting along like longtime friends.
Recently, we were working out on the main strip of road along Panama City Beach's boardwalk during the Spring Break season. We were doing mortgage surveys for the Alvin's Island Department Stores, just showing the property lines and where the building sits on the property. Of course, while we're working we're also looking. Looking at all the "talent" that walks by us in bikinis and tight clothes enjoying the local sand, sun and nightclubs. At this time of year, half naked college girls are everywhere. Their Spring Break might only last a week, but for us locals, Spring Break lasts about two months. The older locals curse it, while the younger locals count the days until Spring Break every year, and possibly swim in an ocean of visiting hotties.
Well, Gene and I were driving along the strip on our way to get some lunch somewhere. When I noticed a man in a wheelchair coming down the road on the sidewalk. He had on some very ragged clothes, might have been homeless, and he was missing both of his legs at the knees. He was wheeling himself very slowly in the Florida sun looking a little tired.
I turned to Gene who just happened to notice him slowly rolling by while we were sitting at the red light. I turned to Gene and softly said in a very bone dry delivery,"Hey, you think he's here for Spring Break?"
Gene turned his head towards me, and even with his dark sunglasses and hat, I could feel his look. It said to me,"Damn, that was heartless,"
I cracked a slight smirk back at Gene's reaction. It wasn't a victorious smirk, but more of a I-know-it-was-wrong-but-I-couldn't-resist smirk. To which Gene summed up the obvious facts of the moment. "Man, you're going to Hell!"
A few days, later the incident was spoken of again, and Gene confessed he was laughing on the inside, but dared not laugh on the outside so to avoid joining me in Hell.
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