The N word ... no not that one.

This one today is going to be a personality that was brought into my mind by few interesting characters I have come across while living in Camps. I thought they would all fit together well making this Blog a little longer than normal. When I say the word Nazi many people become offended. Understandably so it could be a little harsh of a term to describe someone you meet at work. My wager thou is if you would have a chance to meet these folks I am sure you would find the word fitting for their personality. So with the words in the next couple paragraphs I will try to give you an image of these people and why they have received the dubious title of “Nazi”. I am not here to convince you only to make statements and let you create your own perception from these images I hope you see.

The first type of Nazi I ever encountered in a camp was the “mall cop security guard Nazi.” It’s a long handle but that’s basically what they are. These would be the low-level foot solders of the Nazi army. Untethered Cronies sent to do all the dirty work. They are the crowd control and a constant visual presence of the regime. Shortly after entering camp you will meet the (I wish I was a real cop but I have a criminal record or an unstable mental condition) security guards. More often than not they seemingly tend to be that guy from high school who nobody took seriously. He’s the guy who somehow managed to have the one marble left in his head that kept him from walking into class with a gun. Now all grown up with the exception of still living at home and playing World of War craft in all his spare time. He has found a source of income that allows him to feel a sense of authority while at the same time supporting his ever-growing action figure collection. He loves to get right in your face knowing if you say one bleep of a word to him he can get on his ever present safety blanket walkie talkie. Calling his flashlight wielding gang of dungeons & dragons buddies to have you escorted off the property. He truly gets off on searching your belongings with his O.J. Simpson leather gloves touching your underwear and asking you questions with no correct answer. With their snap at any moment tendencies, clearly unstable mental state and desire for complete control over the camp. “Mall cop security guard Nazis.” win the title of foot solider Nazi.

Next I looked inside the camp again to find the next group of Nazis in hiding. Usually at the end of the food line handing out bowls of soup is the Camp Kitchen Nazi. Both male and female versions of this Nazi control the food intake of all camp residents. There position of control would label them to be the SS Nazis. The males tend to be the ones who want to issue your food intake down to the exact calorie. Seemingly wanting to keep you weak enough to be easily stopped in case of uprising due to the food that is served. Spewing propaganda at you in the forms of fresh fruit pictures that you have never seen available to eat and nicely laid out tips for dieting where the items also never appear on the menu. They keep you chasing that imaginary dream of well being and picturesque health while constantly crushing it with another meal of high carb and fat intake meals. Mmmm perogies again! Left lethargic and lazy there is no resistance. Stepping out of line and asking questions such as “Could I get that pork chop with no fat on it?” Absolutely infuriates the Kitchen Nazi. He will then take his frustration out on the next 5 people in line by finding the smallest pork chops in the tray for your friends. Thus the divide and conquer method so well used by the Nazis is imposed by our very own chef of the SS.

The female Kitchen Nazi is a lot more direct with her offensive attacks. Remarks to people like “ I don’t think you need anymore food on that plate.” Or the dead stare at girl’s hips with a snide look on her face when adding lasagna to the plate. She uses tactics of verbal and mental humiliation to break you. Constantly searching for signs of rebellion and turning one person on another for her own personal amusement. One of her techniques is using a nice steak for the Nazi rats plate in front of you in line and then giving you that dried up piece of grizzle. You leave the line wondering who that dick was and how he got such a better meal. Once again succeeding in their plan for unrest and instability.

Now we get to the Adolph of the bunch. This is the man behind the podium conducting meetings with the moustache. He tells you that you are not good enough and you will never be good enough! Breaking spirit and moral for 14 days is his game. He sees everyone as a number and will sacrifice as many as it takes to make his point. This is the “Superintendent Nazi”. You can never measure up to the set standards it is futile to even attempt. If you come close to the line they will simply increase the standard and punish the rest creating complacency. Little brother is always watching. There is the constant reminder that the door you came through to get here you can head right back out. Creating chants and group activities everyday to slowly brainwash the masses into a lull of work, work, work. This is the created utopia of this madman. Propaganda by plastering signs with words like “COMPLY.” and “CONFORM.” For your viewing pleasure every morning and limiting free time and social gatherings this Nazi has created an environment of social control. You must become apart of his (Safety Culture). He creates programs that reward simpletons for turning on their coworkers. Siding with them and asking for them to “Help me, help you, work safer.” he claims. Tell me when you see someone step out of line and I will give you rewards that make you the envy of your group. Then smashing any sign of rebellion before it can grow out of control with famous 3 step methods of detention and repercussion. Techniques of population control and tradesman genocide are rampant while under his control.

I truly hope that you can now see where the word Nazi used in this sense is not brash. Instead looking at this as reveling of the true nature of the beast and the intentions to create a numbed society of builders for their corporations and big business. Little brother is watching you.

Cheers!

O.D.B. the old dirty bastard

This is one that I have been pondering for a while. When I say Old Dirty Bastard you may think of a lot of things. Some maybe a dead Gangster rapper, a coke bottle glass wearing greasy pedophile with a pocket full of candy or some old man with dirt caked fingernails and cigarette stained teeth. The last is the closest to what I am getting at and the following will help you with a description and possibly some strategies to help you out if your stuck in an encounter with the O.D.B.

This personality is that of the 50-year-old version of Linus. His blanket has over time slowly transformed into a mere shred of what could possibly be a thickly stained cloth sticking out of the back pocket. His brown farmer slacks layered with months of god knows what while Drool and spittle line the front bib of his shirt. This all creating an opaque tint next to the shiny snap together pearl buttons. An aura of bacteria and germs constantly rotate around him like a solar system to their mother sun. Foul smells of pickled herring and what could be old jockeys thickly crusted and well past due date resonate from his being.

Here is the man you pray goes to the bathroom after you as following him could be a traumatizing experience. After the O.D.B. leaves an inhumanly fresh coil floating in the porcelain bowl. (There is no flushing for the O.D.B.) He at the same time with amazing accuracy or shit luck will manage to get some of that coil smeared on the toilet seat itself. (Really, how is this possible?) The O.D.B will then proceed to play his favorite game. “Touch every handle and knob on the way out of the bathroom.” skipping the actual act of using soap and water as if it were holy water to a vampire. Finished off by excitedly cramming his finger deep to the nasal cavity searching for a quick snack on the way back to the lunchroom.

If you get so lucky as to sit beside or god bless you across from the O.D.B. Here are some of the things you can look forward to during the day. The ever dangerous dodging an Arial barrage of liquid projectiles. They are either from the unblocked open mouth cough or heaven forbid that high velocity sneeze. All you can do is try to defend your already sickly looking bologna sandwich or easily exposed apple. Not to forget your newspaper that becomes unreadable if left out while the bombing raid of infectious piddle spots smudge the lettering into an unreadable mess of ink.

I am sorry to say but if you are stuck in the close proximity of the O.D.B. for your shift resistance is futile. By day 12 your immune system will be fighting like a 57 year old Mike Tyson and finally give up in an embarrassing loss. You now have the undaunting pleasure of returning home carrying multiple strains of O.D.B. germs. As unwillingly as you took them you hand them off to your friends and family. Around the middle of the week when you are home fighting off a full blown cold your friends or family know now exactly why they are getting a tickle in the throat. The evil stare you get reminds you of your friend the O.D.B. Double win.

To ask the O.D.B. for use a tissue is hopeless. These words fall upon deaf ears, as the O.D.B. has no concept of oral hygiene. I believe I have come to a supported conclusion that O.D.B.’s are illiterate. There are large black and white signs in most rooms reminding them to cover their cough and wash their hands. I have even found one sign written hastily with a sharpie in a stall of the washroom that not so politely asked the O.D.B. to stop flicking boogers on the wall. It even came with small arrows and circles around the crusted green impact zones. (I now avoid that stall no matter how dire my situation is.)

I have one final aid for you in identifying and isolating the O.D.B’s plethora of germ matter. When you hear someone in the shower from outside using the farmer’s handkerchief remember what unit that was in. What has happened is the O.D.B. using the lungpower of a marathon runner has contaminated the shower stall by cleansing his nasal cavity in every direction possible. I asked you to remember the unit, as you now must at all costs avoid it until it has received a minimum of double decontamination. (2 cleaning days) Trust me on this one.

I closing I can only find one animal to compare this personality to and I am sorry to say it but Monkey you are it. I really enjoy you and find you entertaining or funny most of the time. It was just that one time when I saw you stick your finger in your bum and then pop it in your mouth that your reminded me of some people I work with. I need a new job.

Cheers!

The Juice Junkie

Today is about "The Juice Junkie" you have seen them around town usually exiting the Gym or going into one as that is pretty much where they live. The person being usually male who when you look at makes you wonder if they can wipe their own butt because the muscles in their armpits make it look impossible to bend an arm that way.

Well yes these freaks of nature also exist in camps. Constantly seen in size extra medium shirts with a toxic fart inducing protein shake in their hand. Slowly they try to walk but more like waddle their way sideways through the door to the gym for another session of picking up hundreds of pounds only to place it back exactly where it was picked up from in the first place. Finding the joy of asking their other neck less comrade to stick a syringe in their butt so they can pick up and put down even more weight. Hey sounds like fun to me too. I just have not jumped on the bandwagon yet.

The most distinguishable trait of these self injecting testosterone monsters are the tattoos. I am starting to consider that there may be a Tribal tattoo steroid club that secretly exists. You can instantly become a member when you bench 300 lbs in the gym. They then rush you out the back door to get a big black tribal tattoo on your arm by some guy called Jack in a van with one stencil that everyone uses. It just seems way too ironic that so many neck less wonders of the unnatural world would in clear sense choose the exact same tattoo.

Other defining traits of the shrunken penis club are that they are never really seen doing any work. You may see them around the gym entrance but never around where any work is being done. This is due to the probability that they don't really work in the plants. They simply come to camps to devour 4 to 5000 free calories per sitting and use the unlimited gym access to fulfill their ultimate desire. To one day not fit out the door of the gym lie down and die on the blue mat in a bodybuilder utopia of sweat and protein shake stains. The desire to join the club just keeps increasing as I write.

To compare a "Juice Junkie" to something it would have to be a pig. Not that pigs are repulsive or anything, thou both farts I imagine smell very much as potent. I am using this comparison soley because a pig gets bigger and bigger. That is their desire they want to be the biggest damn pig at the trough. Willing to do anything to achieve that goal. Yet somehow not really seeing how big they are getting and causing their own death by it in the end.

I understand the need to be healthy and work out and I applaud people for doing so just remember when you either have to use the same drugs a horse does to gain some weight or are willing to let another guy stick a needle in your butt who has no formal training to be a doctor. It might be time to step back and look in the mirror for a good hard second and see if you can still see the person who started working out at the gym in the first place.

Cheers.

The Newbie

The Newbie, the new guy, fresh meat, whatever people call them they seem to stick out like a marshmallow in chocolate pudding. If your unsure what I am talking about the following should explain a little more and show you how easy it is to spot a Newbie at camp.

There are two types of Newbies the first is by far the easiest personality to pick out of a crowd. They have parents who are supporting them and they live at home. So they tend to show up wearing new gear. As well there may possibly be a lunch packed by mom. Some people buy new stuff but only the Newbie will show up with new boots, coveralls and usually some other item that is brand new with a Carhart or CAT emblem on it all at the same time looking like an advertisement for some Ford truck commercial.

So called normal people will not show up in all new gear its just for some reason laughed at and expect to get bugged or at least some dirt or mud thrown at you. All in good fun of course but the newbie does not understand this old tradition and will get upset when you kick dust on his new boots. Who cares thou they are the Newbie, hurt feelings forms are always available in every bathroom usually found under the name of " Paki passport photos" or "CLAC tickets"

Then there is the broke Newbie these are sometimes hard to tell apart from the "crackhead" or the "penny pincher" ( both of whom will be explained at a later date.) They have old clothes that have been used by either someone else or for cutting the grass and painting at home. The best way to spot this newbie is by the new boots on their feet. ALL Newbies have new boots.

So how can you tell this one apart from someone who just bought new boots? That's where the other distinguishable characteristics of a Newbie come in. When they first arrive they have a deer in the headlights look and think they just walked into reform school or a prison camp. Scared by all the rumors their drunk uncle who spent two months in a camp back in '84 told them. The stories of drugs addicts and violent offenders that live in camps stick in their mind. Newbies keep their new gear at arms length all the time. Staring at everyone for an abnormally long time while thinking that "The juice monkey" or the "Old dirty Bastard" is seeing them as their bitch for an evening of swapping cigarettes and bootleg liquor enjoyment.

The Newbie will also tend to be noticeably perplexed when they leave the meal line. Yet another place to easily spot the Newbie. Simply standing there with hair nicely combed looking for a table with the fewest people. Careful so not to offend someone and again becoming a bitch. This is a time consuming act and could take some time. The clumsy Newbie may bump into people or the ultimate in lunchtime entertainment drop a plate or cup full of Chocolate milk on the floor. Yes they all drink chocolate milk on the first day simply because its free and may become visibly excited about it. They will sometimes find other Newbies to hang out with on day 2 or 3 and then will remain by each others side constantly learning everything they can from what the others have experienced and heard.

The only thing I can really compare a Newbie to is the nerdy kid a school. They really stand out and heck everyone can't help but pick on them sometimes until they find out where they fit in the scheme of things and develop a camp personality. So next time you see a Newbie kick some dirt on their boots and when they get mad at you just tell them its for their own good and they will understand someday. If your a pipefitter you can also ask them to join your PEN 15 club. If your an Ironworker make sure you take the weee out of their hardhat for them.

Cheers!

Old timer type

There are so many types of people that I run into work everyday with specific characteristics that set them in categories. The next couple of blogs will be some of these types, if you enjoy people watching I am sure you will really understand what I am talking about here. Any negative or positive comments are not meant as direct attacks only things that seem to stand out when your stuck working with different types of folks for too long in too small of a space.

Enjoy.

The Oldtimer is pretty much what the name states. They have been around for a long time, sometimes too long, They cannot stay home because work is all they know or their wife does not want them in the house because they cannot sit still and drive everyone nuts. ( Mrs. Oldtimer, they drive us nuts too. Thank you. ) They are usually collecting a pension or 2 and don't really care about a job its just something to do to pass time and make a couple extra bucks to reno a cabin they may never use of replace the tires on their 04 Chrysler.

They are most easy to pick out by the way they walk. Slowly...... no matter what they are doing or how many people are behind them they walk slowly undaunted by polite coughs or the constant "excuse me could I get by here." frequently stopping to kick the dirt or pick something up they think might be a penny.

Sometimes well more often than not the clothes are a dead give away as well. For some reason the Oldtimer tends to enjoy wearing shirts with collars on them. I really have only found one reason for it so far. Often you will see the glasses case in the front pocket next two a row of pens that usually don't work and i think this may have something to do with it. They need pockets. They need them to put all that stuff they have no use for in. Nobody really knows what is in those pockets but they are full to the brim and you don't dare check for fear of the well used hankerchief that may be crusted in there.

Other obvious traits are where they sit when in the lunchroom. There are usually 3 spots you can find the Oldtimer: 1- Alone, 2-with another Oldtimer or 3- with a young kid. The ones that sit alone pretty much hate everyone. They are the Oldtimers you don't want to work with because they just bitch about everything and will yell at you for any reason including when there arthritis acts up. Also very prevelent to have loose dentures when they are talking excitedly and will blow their nose with the one thumb method practically anywhere.

The ones that sit with other Oldtimers are also ones you don't want to work with. These are the ones that sit and bitch about young people and how shit was so different when they were young, how easy things are now and other delusional statements that make them feel better. They may also tend to conspire against the younger generation with their Oldtimer buddies but never really act on it due to lack of energy or forgetfulness of what they were talking about.

Then there is the one who sits with the young kids. These are the ones that are the best. They can still snap and yell at you ( That is a right earned by all Oldtimers) but they are more like an old grandpa who you can play tricks on and will still laugh. They remember that they have a sense of humor. Of all the Oldtimers these are the ones that are the best. They tend to find humor in the younger generation that they work with laughing at the stupid pranks that are played and just pretty much enjoying someone with lots of life being around them.

Oldtimers of all sorts are difficult to work with if you do not have something for them to do all the time. In some ways they are like a puppy if they are not kept busy then you don't know what they are going to do and sometimes they pee on the floor. Well puppies do I don't know about Oldtimers but I am sure I will have an accident or two when I get up there as well. Anyway you have to keep them both busy or the cuteness will wear off fast and they get very annoying and difficult to work with. They will tend to do their own thing most the time and wander very easily and often for no apparent reason. We have yet to lose one so far but it is still a daily fear that one may just wander off too far and get on the wrong bus or something.

This is one persons view on Oldtimers coming soon are Newbies, Cash chasers, Out of towners, The Apprentice, and many more.

Cheers

Half a life

Its harder than some think. Its not a vacation its not the road to riches. Working in the oil and gas sector of Alberta and having a family away is one of the hardest things I have ever tried to do in my life. This is a simple explanation of what life can sometimes be like for those who are meby interested. Sometimes I do good and sometimes I fail miserably all one has to do is please everyone all the time. I see my family for 2 weeks! That is wonderful, a great thing that not alot of people get to do all the time on the other hand I miss everything they do and celebrate for the 2 weeks that I spend with a bunch of other transplanted workers for families across Canada. At work we start the week joking saying how its nice to get out of the house and pretty much whatever else it takes to convince yourself that you can make it thru another 2 weeks away from a normal life in a ultra polluted mud pit or dustbowl (pending on the season) that is inevitibly cutting your life short thru the various chemicals and pollutants in the air that you are told should be harmless. No really it is that bad don't let anyone tell you different. At work I speak with my distant family everyday and hear about how their day is going, tell each other we miss each other and always leave the conversation thinking there is so much more I want to say. We bang thru the week starting with little arguments around day 4 and then they escalate around day 10 thru 14 to the point of 'I really don't know why I work here!" Then days off roll around and we get to go home to the family full of somehow stranger like faces that love you but look different every time as 2 weeks changes people. A couple days into the break we readjust into a family setting and by one week in we are comfortable again. Then life is normal at home and there are little arguments over this and that usually nothing too serious but enough to put an edge on. The problems at home and work are never really solved because its always looked at as well its only a couple more days then I go to my other life and everything will cool down. Leaving it all to build up more and more everytime we make the transition. Eventually everyone has enough and leaves the job they are at thinking they are done with the Oil. But like a drug your finances are dependent on it and it sucks you back in hopefully to a decent shift a 14 n 7 or sometihing like that anything but the dreaded 10 n 4. Thats a simple breakdown of what it is not much of an explanation but enough so you can get the drift of what happens there. We all just want to retire early and spend the shortened end days with the family assuming that the family does not quit on us as we have quit on so many of the jobs that take us away. Classic Irony in the end.