Rednecks and Dynamite

“Demolition? Isn’t that job for rednecks and dynamite? You appear mighty righteous for such a line,” my local consignment shop lady remarked. No offense taken, for the Zoomer generation has been busy learning Salesforce and saving the planet; far, far away from the universe of soiled Carhartt’s and steel-toed boots. Maybe they had lived bi-curiously in a rage room or once upon a Tik Tok saw a casino blown up in a controlled demo project. I am not to judge uninformed opinions.

I shrugged, “There is a little more to it, permits and all you know. OSHA breathes down our neck, nobody is safe enough these days.” I swallow my ramble on the profit margins of safety; the red tape that puts food on the table for many families. By requiring guardrails on heights over 30 inches and requiring hard hats indoors, many people feel suffocated by regulation. And it is not in their best interest, simply big business politics. Even trees are littered with red tape. Imported Cherry Blossoms are guarded by the watchful eyes of tree people, meanwhile we cut down the native Douglas firs. It looks like the forestry majors got the last laugh.

“It must be a fine stress relief, destroying houses for a living. Do you get your frustration out on the clock?”  she asked again innocently. Are most people a ball of pent-up anger? It must be a city person thing; I have never felt such a way. I can’t imagine what it must be like to work in a soft environment, just to go home and watch television in a padded room. I would explode.

“No, and the job is tedious. Care must be taken when dismantling a structure. People get excited if a wall collapses in the street or a truss squishes you.”  Indeed, the job is more than destroying. When throwing away a house, extra fines are bestowed upon demolition material. To discard thousands of tons of CMU, fiberglass insulation, HVAC and electrical, and furnishings, basic separation must commence. At our sites, we recycle concrete and CMU, sell timbers, and scrap the HVAC, pluming, and electrical systems. At convenience.  Only if we could recycle all, but money is the bottom line. New houses are smashed and replaced with bigger and more “sustainable” constructions. We are no better than the corporations that buy windmills for carbon credits. Talk about artificial demand. How about you buy my adventure credits, and you will no longer have to worry about being cool.

What we learn about life through our microscopes, and what we have yet to see. Yet I know best. The center of all, the baseline of intelligence. A universe revolves around every soul. You don’t understand, and you never will. Nor will I. And then?