Saturday, December 27, 2014


***this was written about 3 years ago. 

She’s inspiring, and I’ll tell you why.

She works where I work, doing what I do. And what I do is filthy, fucking HORRIBLE work. It’s incredibly difficult, physically, and pays next to nothing (I am not exaggerating – I don’t eat one day a week just to save money). My job is for, well, people like ME (those who have made bad life decisions) or who were cursed in the sperm lottery (third world-ers). She falls into the latter category.

The first thing I noticed about her was her being female. Doing my job and being female really doesn’t go together, though as I type I realize she is the SECOND female doing my job. But, in any case, she is cute. Super cute. Looks like one of the kids I used to teach. She speaks almost no English, and from what I can gather she recently had a baby (like months ago). Again, she doesn’t fit the mold.

She was introduced to me the way a parent attempts to reassure a child the dog they’ve encountered won’t bite. God it was funny. As much as SHE looks out of place, I look out of place, I guess. To me it almost seems normal now to do what I do, but I still get looks, especially after people talk with me, such as WHY am I here. She and I nearly bumped into one another as I turned the corner. Her eyes looked me over, and she seemed a little afraid. My boss, seeing the scene unfold in front of him, rushed over to us to make the introduction. He gave a wide smile, pronounced my name carefully, and stroked my shoulder as if to further let her know I was kosher. 

She allowed herself a grin, and threw out her small hand. I shook it as I used to teammates after a football game, nearly taking her arm off in the process. She giggled a little. It was my task to show her around.

I pointed out this and that, and quickly determined she wasn’t comprehending. She looks like a white chick, honestly. And though her name is, like, SUPER Mexican, I was so busy showing her around I didn’t stop to think she couldn’t speak English. Oops. Got it. I went back over the areas, this time using my retarded gringo Spanish to better clue her in. I gave little tips, and tried to make her laugh. I then started introducing her to other members of the staff, dreading her meeting some of the dudes I work with. Now, her being a Mexican babe, she knows how Mexican guys are (not all, but a sizable chunk of them where I work). I kind of knew that she knew that too, but these guys can be brutal when it comes to women. She was already uncomfortable, and she was already trying to learn the job and acclimate herself (always difficult on the first day), so my coworkers were not going to help the matter. 

Fuck it, I thought, she has to be able to hang.

Juanito is a walking hard-on. Seriously. All that dude does ALL DAY, all he talks about ALL DAY, is fucking, sex, and topics related. He points to various objects and compares them to his penis. He’s married, and I have met his poor wife. Man, she is pretty. He treats her like garbage, and he fowls her reputation by harassing the females we work with. Juanito more or less smelled the new girl. I was in the middle of showing her how to better grab something high off the ground, when she suddenly processed what I was saying and attempted herself. She reached upwards, stretching her body. Guess who was RIGHT behind her? Juanito. He whistled. He turned a little red when he caught himself, and I think that had a lot to do with shaking my head at him combined with her turning around to give him a look of disgust. Good for her!

Juanito slinked off (those dudes are left PETRIFIED by strong women).

She smiled knowingly in my direction, and I continued her tour as if nothing happened.

Now, most people get jobs because of family connections or due to friends. We call that networking nowadays, but few people at the wage-level earn their positions. They’re usually GIVEN jobs. I don’t really mind the process. It makes a lot of sense. But I don’t have as much respect for those people as I do people who earn jobs without knowing another person at the workplace. Does that make sense? Ugh.

The new lady EARNED her job with me. That’s gangsta. That’s the tits, dude. I so respect that. And once I found out she knew no one at work, I gave her serious points. Yeah.

The more I showed her different processes of the job, the more she took to it. She is really smart. Fast. No pretensions from her, at all, about the type of work we do. At my job, we’re the very bottom. Though the job is unglamorous and shit, the people around us also look down on the position. No respect. What’s cool about her is the air she brings. She doesn’t seem to give a fuck what others think. I love that attitude. It’s kind of my thing. More points for her!

In a spare down moment, we spoke on a slightly personal level. She’s young, 21, and looks about 12. She isn’t married and has an 8 month old. She needs money, bad. The biological father is a douchebag, leaving her hanging. She doesn’t want anything from him, preferring to go it alone. MORE POINTS.

Time to continue her training, and at the end, exhausted and downing gulps of water, she assumes I’ll be with her tomorrow, working together. No, I tell her, I have a different schedule. This is the last she’ll see of me. She smiles and thanks me for helping her.

Passing between shifts, we make polite conversation in broken English and Spanish. Rumors have it she is holding up well, doing the job under extremely hard circumstances.

And as I do my job daily, I think about her struggle. I wonder what will become of her. Sometimes I’ll complain to myself about this or that aspect of the job, and then I remember how strong she is. That gives me hope. That gives me strength. As bad as things get for me (and they’re baaaaaaaaaaaad), I just cannot lose the spark. I cannot let it go. It’s people like my trainee who help me continue.

And I mean it.
Craig Edward Kelso is the author of Anarcho-Capitalism (2014), a primer on the philosophy of peaceful, stateless cooperation. His curriculum vitae include a Bachelor of Arts in Political Science from San Diego State University, and a Post-Baccalaureate secondary education credential in both Social Science and English Language Arts. Kelso taught for nearly a decade in the American public school system, and was voted by colleagues Teacher of the Year, twice in his short tenure, earning numerous accolades from chambers of commerce, mayors, state assembly persons, governors, congresspersons, senators, and even Wal-Mart. Currently he struggles to earn an opportunity to be employed, working as a laborer, dishwasher. He is deliriously happily married to Myra Kelso, living in Southern California with their adorable children.

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