Terrible, terrible things

I got a call this afternoon from the painter who gave me the gaudy stick. Despite the fact that his name is Larry, he's a decent enough guy.

It looks like his best man quit, he needs someone to fill the hole, and he thought of me. Yeah, the crazy old fart thinks I can replace his best guy. WTF? I'm a Jack of all trades. I've got no tickets, no certificates other than the random small-time stuff I've picked up along the way. I'm certainly no professional painter. But if he's willing to keep me working like this I might just start seeing painting in a new light.

He's talking to the folks in charge right now, trying to talk them into paying my way again, and he'll let me know what's happening in the morning. This time I might be gone for anything from two to four weeks.

They've moved the boat in my absence, docking it at the main B.C. Ferries yard to install new engines and other assorted stuff I don't really understand. The catch is that this is a union outfit and I'm not a member, which is why Larry will have to convince them. On the flip-side, it might be my foot in the door (IUPAT? I dunno), in which case it could mean scads more work at an even better wage.

Regardless, it's cool that I've now made contacts with, and have seemingly impressed: one general contractor who manages to get some huge contracts (painting this was his last big job) and who also happens to be a friend of the family, one painting contractor who apparently never runs out of work and seems to love me, and the brass at the shipyard I started at. Who knows, maybe I'll make a few friends at B.C. Ferries during this next trip, too. If so, or if I manage to join the union, last month's sudden bolt from the blue might actually turn into some fairly regular work.

We could sure use that.

Despite seeing B.C. as my home I still feel like a fish out of water sometimes. I was born and raised a flatlander. I come from the land of the oil rigs and the farms. This stuff--forestry, shipyard work--is waaaay different from what I'm used to. All I need now is to work on a fishing boat. Crazy stuff.

Anyway, here at home we're not sure whether to celebrate the unexpected extra work or to mourn my going back to the mainland for up to a month. I haven't even finished washing the clothes I wore last time.

We sure have mixed feelings about it all.