Family Cement

I feel like I’ve been hit by a cement truck. Ha ha, actually one drove up my parents’ driveway and delivered cement for the sidewalk we put in. I helped out. I used a wheelbarrow and chatted up the driver while he poured. I said stupid things like, “Have you ever seen a heart attack in your line of work?” or “this line of work requires one of two things. Good friends or a lot of money. Probably both.”

The driver was a super nice guy. He ACTUALLY got out of his truck to help us out. To help us “rank amateurs” as my dad so nicely put it. The cement guy also said I was doing a great job, which totally made my day because cement workers are the ultimate hardasses. He told me he did 22 cubic yards in two hours. I could be cynical and say something lousy about his hard work, but we did 6 today in about 4 hours and I feel like an old man right now.

My dad was super great too. He was johnny-on-the-spot with the float and 2×4. I feel like it was the best we ever worked together as team. Sniff. If I were at work, I would write my dad a Great Team Member card. It would read, “Dude, you ROCKED today on the cement job.”

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