No, no. I'm not going to take you onstage with me. I'm about to go there myself in an hour's time.
Day to day I work alongside some grizzly men. The union guys that take our shifts are usually within the top 6 on the Saint Paul call list. They are guys that have been loading trucks, lifting weight and busting ass for thirty plus years. Dudes that have been physically crushed, teetering the brink of safety once or twice, and have sweat more than the average human. Some are giants and some are average size with the personality (or the self-disillusionment) of a giant.
They talk sports and late nights. They let me fake talk sports and allow my indefinite and noncommittal comments of "Yeah, Smith's had some kind of season, man".
Manly men, right? Definitely.
Unloading another midnight truck last night... I noticed a plastic bag sitting next to the crate of ratchet straps. That's a foreign object in that back of our truck. I had to peak inside. What I found... Well, I never thought I would find what I found in that back of our truck at midnight. I found a cabbage and a squash. My grizzly stage hands brought me vegetables freshly picked from the farm.
Of all the things that I could have found in that bag... so many would make sense... tools, clothes, even cookies makes sense. But Cabbage?
These men make me laugh. Their rough edges and their sensitivity has me in stitches nightly.
They notice every time I wear a new pair of shoes or jacket.
They are genuinely interested in where I got them and if I'm satisfied with my purchase.
They compliment me any time I get a haircut or am sporting a fresher face than normal.
They ask how my car is running and father me into conversations about changing the oil before I drive across state.
What a funny group of men I work with.
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