My Construction Job

In early 1997 I returned home from serving a mission for my church after being gone for two years. I was now 21, ready to start my life again! Ready to go to school and have a job…A real job. I worked here and there before my mission, a clerk for 2 weeks at the local “Pak N Save”, a bus boy at a strip mall lunch joint for a month and work here and there for my Uncle Mark’s business. But this time it was different. I was a man now, a man who just completed serving two years as a missionary in the projects of the east coast. I can handle the hard stuff. A member of my church told me of a job opportunity at his construction company that I could have if I wanted. I, being a man now, jumped at the chance for a real job. I immediately ran out and bought a car, my first stick shift!
The first day on the job was a challenge. I showed up in my jeans, t-shirt and new pair of Vans shoes. Ready to start, I quickly found the Forman and reported to work. “Where are your tools?” he asked me. “Uh.” was my reply. I spent the rest of the day hauling unbelievably heavy metal pipes around the construction site. Maybe this wasn’t for me.
Day two on the job went a little different. It was now my job to install the unbelievably heavy metal pipes onto the ceiling of the building. I climbed my 9 foot ladder with the heavy pipe on my shoulder. It only took me 20 minutes to get to the top. I some how managed to get the pipe close enough to the ceiling that I was able to slip it into the metal brace. Pleased with myself and recently relieved of the cumbersome pipe I started to move down the ladder. Unfortunately, I slipped. I fell the entire 9 feet directly into a 4 foot concrete trench someone had dug for some reason. I hit both legs on the sides of the trench on my way down and was sure they were both broken into small unfixable shards of bone. As I stood there, rooted in my own pain, laughter broke out suddenly. My fall happened while every one was watching me. Humiliated and hurt, I pulled myself out of the trench and managed to stand. I was trying hard to force the tears away and barely managed to squeak out the words “I quit.” More laughter. I walked back to my car and drove home. Now cursing the fact that I had purchased a stick shift every time by mangled leg touched the clutch. For the next few months I had the worlds largest and most green and purple bruises up and down my legs as my only proof that I had ever been a construction worker.