I worked in construction back in 2006. It was December when I started working on the retail store building, and Dick Silver was the Superintendent of the retail store I was assigned to. This was the era when we were issued shiny new Blackberries. From 2003 onwards, we had used the Nextel Walkie Talkies-cum-phones. The Blackberry was a new challenge for an old school construction man like Dick.
He was a hardworking, scruffy man, rough around the edges, but a brilliant Superintendent. He had worked in construction after being discharged from the army—that was over two decades ago.
Dick believed in keeping work life separate from his personal life. The Blackberry’s evening pings, especially when emails arrived after 8 PM, irritated him to no end. He soon became a vocal opponent of these devices because he wanted to reserve his weekends for his girlfriend.
One Friday evening, as we walked the construction site in the biting cold Chicago winter, running our final checks before locking up, Dick told me, “Tomorrow, I do not want to be disturbed at all. I have a special date planned.”
That subtle “warning” was all my mischievous mind needed. Once home, I opened Outlook on my company laptop and drafted some work-related emails: a test report here, a work estimate there. I set six emails, each timed to go off between 8 PM and 9 PM, ten minutes apart. An hour of beeping on Dick’s dreaded Blackberry.
As it turned out, Dick had planned to spend some intimate time with his girlfriend that very evening. The repeated beeps on his Blackberry ruined his plans.
On Monday morning, he was furious. I narrowly escaped his wrath by buying him a beer after work. That’s what “working hard and having fun” meant in the freezing cold, dealing with a tough crew, braving the snow and cold rain.
The cold, wet rain seeping into the train compartment from a leaky window snapped me back to reality. I looked around, startled, as the memories of Chicago and Dick Silver faded. It was Mid-August 2014, and I was on a train, embarking on a new adventure.
I checked my watch—it was nearly midnight. I decided to teach my fellow passengers a lesson, especially the potty-mouthed ruffian who smoked beedies, the patriarch who insisted on keeping the light on, and the girl who played loud music until 11 PM to entertain her 2-year-old niece.
I set the alarm to go off every ten minutes. My station was due at 1 AM, so I wasn’t concerned about losing sleep. People around me stirred from their slumber—some sour, others groggy, and the patriarch even threatened me. I kept a smile on my face.
The train was running late. My alarm continued to sound every five minutes. Finally, the train slowed, and it was time for me to disembark. Before leaving, I gave my fellow passengers a piece of my mind. It was a hollow victory, one that left me feeling empty.
The above is an excerpt from my upcoming book, Urban, Sophisticated.