Thinking about what difference, if any, having a full-time job for the first time in 20 years has made in my life, in my days. I knew it would be an adjustment, and it was. But almost all those adjustments felt good. I like working. I like being around people.
My job would probably not appeal to the antiwork movement peeps. For one thing you have to show up. Where I work there is and as far as I know never was a work-from-home option even through Covid.
Another anti-antiwork movement quality of this job is you are expected to be early. The fear of fuck about what might happen should you be one minute late was so deeply ingrained into certain of the other new hires I started with that they still show up 2 hours before their shifts start.
Do I miss days like this, which I basically waste by rambling around town doing nothing useful for anybody? Not really. Having done that for what seemed like 7 days a week I don’t feel any different now doing it only once or twice. I do not spend my minutes at the job yearning to be anywhere else.
What was today, anyway? I had some fun with the Talk To Me project, connecting from the Houston Street phone to a Parks worker in the Bronx. She sounded great. That was a great call.
I got some sun, which always feels good. My skin gorges on the sun, and I love a good sweat. It’s like my body weeps.
Sitting at an outdoor coffee shop on Broadway in Astoria after subwaying it around modtown and down to Houston. I go out of my way to see what happens when I pick up the payphone at Houston and 2nd Ave. It’s a great project.
Truth be told: I don’t have anything to say.
