So, now you have an idea of what a FPCF does. Now I will tell you what sort of woman would choose to do this kind of tough, sweaty, and very dirty work. I have always been a sort of outside the box, definitely un-girly girl. I don't know that I was a tomboy really, but I loved being outdoors and rough housing. Hmmm, maybe I was a tom boy. I was never really interested in school. It kept me indoors and was just too boring. I tried the whole college thing, but I just didn't have the self discipline to do it. Don't get me wrong. I am fairly intelligent, and I most likely could have stayed in college and gotten a "real job" some day. I just somehow cannot see having to put on "real" clothes and bondo up my face every day so I could climb the corporate ladder at a job I couldn't stand. I know someone has to do the corporate thing, but thank God it's someone...*else*. I seriously doubt I could wedge my blue jeans and tank top wearing self into an office job without some serious compromise on my part, and I am not willing to compromise.
I have a real need to be outdoors. After a few do-nothing jobs, taken solely to ensure regular meals, I got a job in a biomedical research center caring for all the lab animals. It was a hard job, but I loved it. I would probably still be there if the facility hadn't been housed underground. There is nothing worse for a person like me to not even have a window to look out! I had a couple more jobs that did not amuse me before I found what I was positive, was heaven on this earth. My (then) husband had gotten me some riding lessons at a local hunter/jumper barn. I was ecstatic! Horses...real live sweaty, pungent horses! When I found out they needed someone to clean stalls, and would actually *PAY* me to do it, I said "I'm your Huckleberry"! I was amazed that you could get paid to do something that you actually loved. I must have shoveled a thousand tons of horse poop. I loved it. I got paid to take care of horses! Nirvana! I continued at the barn for many years, and eventually ended up managing it. I loved every minute, even the not so glamorous things like riding the tractor for 10 hours mowing the pasture, or being so cold my eyes watered and the tears froze on my cheeks. I was meant to do this!
My bliss ended one day when I got the news that my father in law had been diagnosed with cancer, and my family needed me to help with the family business. I cried like a little girl, first for my Father in Law, second for my husband, and last myself. I would have to leave my heart behind with my friends at the barn. It was horrible, but I guess we all have to grow up some time, and part of that is being responsible. My family needed me more.
I started in the office, helping out with stuff like typing up bid proposals and making sending out invoices. Oh the mundanity! I was incredibly restless and mind numbingly bored, stuck in an inner office with no windows. No sun! No wind! No HORSES! Every once in a while, the guys would call the office and ask for someone to bring out more color, or steel or something that they'd forgotten to load on the truck. Reprieve! I would scurry out to my truck and load up whatever it was they needed, and drive to the jobsite. Then I would stay until they kicked me in the seat and told me to go back to the office :(
One day, on a trip to deliver something to the crew, I was hanging out as usual, and the guys were a couple of hands short, and were having some trouble getting everything done. I was thrilled when my husband asked me if I thought I could run the stamps for him. Was he *kidding*??? Of course I could! I was so excited I would have squealed if I'd been alone. I stamped that job, and that was the beginning of the Stamp Monkey! I was incredibly sweaty, dirty, stinky, and utterly exhausted at the end of that tiny 200 square foot job, and I was ecstatic! I was finally doing something productive. Something that in my twisted brain I could be proud of. Most women given the prospect of being covered head to toe in concrete and black color would run screaming...I asked when I could do it again.
More later...
Camille
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