Work, work, work, work, work…
As background noise, bright shiny distraction, something to keep me awake while reconciling aircraft ride accounts into the fourth hour at 23:45 after a ten hour day at work to start with and a couple hours of commuting to spice it all up, I’ve been watching the Australian Open. It’s not football or baseball or hockey, but I do like tennis. I sort of miss playing it, played in college and didn’t completely suck.
There’s an ad running, possibly local, where the gist of it is showing a whole slew of guys on a construction site all dancing and grimacing with legs crossed, in agony, and then showing the guy with the Porta Potties whose truck has broken down.
I’ve been on many a construction site between my last couple of previous jobs and I can GUARANTEE that construction dudes wouldn’t be in agony trying to hold it in if there aren’t any portable facilities for them to use. Even if there ARE facilities available, it’s still not unusual to see them just unzipping and letting loose instead of walking all the way over to the outhouse.
But what if there are ladies on site?
Yeah, right. As for the guys, having women on site wouldn’t change anything I’ve said above. As for the women – ditto.
It’s Madison Avenue at its finest, but it’s about as accurate as the science in “Ad Astra.”