Liberal Arts Majors – Under House- Saturday

New Orleans LA

Description

Do you like cleaning junk from under houses? Are you good at cleaning junk from under houses? Are you a liberal arts major? Then you can absolutely NOT use your education in any way whatsoever by helping me clean a bunch of junk from under my house. Not much to say other than there is a bunch of junk under my house and I want there to be considerably less junk under my house. But I’ll say some more stuff anyhow via a helpful Q&A. Q: What kind of junk? A: Great question. Bricks. Some pieces of concrete. Old duct work. Old pipes that we will need to cut. Q: Old pipes that need to be cut? Do you know which ones to NOT cut so we don’t get electrocuted or exploded? A: Yes. I look at the pipe and I think, “Does this pipe *seem* like it would have high voltage electricity in it?” And if I answer to myself, “Probably not,” then I say to you, “Here, cut this pipe.” Q: Will I be working in a relatively cramped crawl space under a, dank, dirty house? A: Yes. Look at the pics. Q: Why now? A: My A/C went kaput and when I crawled under my house to check it out I realized that for the past 130 years every time any work was done under the house not a single worker said, “You know, since we no longer need this thing I will clean it out and remove it when I install the new thing.” Instead they think, “I’ll just leave the old thing under here like this space is a big garbage can.” Q: Will there be yelling? A: If you’d like. Q: Will we listen to music? A: Maybe. I’m a middle-aged white guy so you can rest assured there will be some Wilco. And podcasts. There is a good chance the podcasts will be murder-related. Q: Hey, speaking of murder, since I will be working in a crawl space which is the perfect place to “bury the bodies” both figuratively and literally, will I be murdered? A: No! No murdering of any kind is allowed. You are not murdered. I am not murdered. No one murders each other. I’m v. strict on this. Q: What if I see some old bones or something? A: Let’s cross our fingers and hope they are from a long dead racoon and not a long dead cheerleader. If, God-forbid, the bones are human let’s hope he was a terrible person. Q: What does it pay? A: Look at the posting. $17/hr in cold, hard, cash which I will Venmo you at the end of the day. As we wrap up for the day you can wipe the sweat from your brow as you take satisfaction in a job well done for dirty manual labor for which you were paid v. little considering the filth. On the other hand, no taxes taken out, baby! I will provide lunch. We will probably order po-boys from Zaras. We’ll wrap up at maybe 4 or 5 or whenever there is little or no excess junk under my house. Q: How many people do you need? A: I think 4. Plus I will be working alongside you. (And by, “working alongside you,” I mean I will be checking my Insta while you do most of the work. Also, as an added bonus, my teenagers will also be working with us. And there is a good chance one or more will be sullen! Q: Holy shit this sounds fantastic. Exactly where, when, etc.? A: My house. Prytania St. Uptown. Saturday morning at the crack of 8:00 a.m.. Be prepared to work. I am not posting the exact address because you can’t just show up at my house on Saturday morning. People actually do this and it drives me nuts. I have to REPLY to you and hire you for the gig. It may take me until later afternoon Friday to reply. Please, please don’t just say, “I’m down,” or something like that. I don’t expect a resume and a cover letter but you gotta give me SOMETHING to go on. If you say something like, “I can do it,” that is not enough for me to make a snap judgement on how likely or not you are to show up. Wear long pants. Wear a long-sleeved shirt. A ball cap is a good idea because it keeps dirt out of your hair. Wear clothes and shoes you can get filthy. No sun dresses! That would be insane. No, you may not bring your child who will sit in the car. Please do not ask me a question that is already in this post. True story: When I was in my early 20s I was working under a house doing some work for a guy. I had not yet graduated with my own liberal arts degree. The dirt under the house was gradually sloping upward so the further back you crawled under the house the less room there was between the dirt and the underside of the floor above you. I was at the way far end of the house scooching on my belly with the floor just above my head. It was pitch black dark except for my puny flashlight. V. claustrophobic. The only way to get back out was to scooch backwards. There was no room to turn around. I was dragging myself forward a few inches at a time and a cockroach scampered right in front of my face. Man, it gave me the heebie-jeebies. I paused and collected myself and there was a distinct sound of rustling or fluttering or something. I couldn’t pin exactly what. So without really thinking about it I pointed my flashlight up and tilted my head up and maybe 4 inches from my face were hundreds (thousands?) of cockroaches crawling all over each other. I was under a cockroach nest. I was in a cockroach nest. It can be pretty cramped under my house but there is plenty of light coming in from around all four sides and there are no cockroaches. So why am I tell you this? Because it was disgusting and it is a fantastic story. Good luck.