In his 19 May 2012 LV Adviser column Bob Dancer wrote "One guy I know plays poker and video poker when he has some money and works as a day laborer when he doesn't. That's not a life I would want, but it seems to work for him. But he's getting older--as all of us do. People are more willing to hire the muscles of a 20-or 30-year-old than they are a 50- or 60-year-old. Sooner or later, it's certain that age and medical circumstances will make him unemployable as a day laborer. What then?"
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That's a patented Mickey Crimm strategy you're writing about there, Bob. But, luckily, I've been on a roll here lately. I haven't had to pull a day labor shift since July....1996. LOL!
I read your May 19 column yesterday morning before heading off to work (and you can bet it wasn't day labor). I wracked my brain all day trying to remember when and where was my last day labor shift. I absolutely can't remember what the job was. Was it stacking boxes, construction clean-up, digging a trench? July 1996 is really just a guesstimate, but I do know that it was prior to October 1996. As for the where, I've got it narrowed down to four towns, Santa Fe, Colorado Springs, Glenwood Springs or Salt Lake City. Oh, well. Maybe I'll remember today.
And you're right, I'm definitely to old and soft to work any day labor these days. So what would I do if I went broke? I've got an idea. How does "SELF EMPLOYED SIGN WORKER" sound to you? Hey, the tools are cheap. All you need is a magic marker, you can get the cardboard out of any dumpster for free.
In my tramping around days I observed and even conversed with some of those sign workers. You know, the ones with signs like:
"Will Work For Food"
"Homeless Vet....Anything Helps....God Bless"
"Why Lie? I Need A Beer"
I was quite jealous of the money the sign workers made compared to day laborers. One Sunday in Santa Fe, Backpack Phil and me were laying in the park. Since it was Sunday we were dead in the water for working day labor. There was a big Catholic Church across the street and the parking lot was packed with cars. Along comes this tramp walking up the street, long hair and long beard, big backpack on. He stopped at the driveway to the Church parking lot. That Church let out and people headed to their cars. The tramp pulled a sign out of his backpack and held it up for those nice Christians to see.
Phil and me marveled as car after car stopped, and a hand with some money shot out the window. About a half hour later the parking lot was empty. The tramp put his backpack back on then turned and seen us sitting in the park. He walked on over and plopped down in the grass in front of us. Then he pulled all those bills out of his pocket. Ones, fives, a few tens, and even a twenty or two. He counted them all up in front of us. $194! Then he looked at us and asked "Where can I get some dope?"
"Go on down to the Plaza," I said "they can fix you up down there." He took off for the Plaza. "Phil," I said "if we ever start working signs, remind me to pick on Churches on Sundays." But I just didn't have the guts to become a begger. Maybe this time around, if it comes down to it, being old and feeble these days, I might be able to find the courage. I've got some ideas for signs.
"Will Work For Poker Buy-In"
"Homeless Gambler....Anything Helps....May The Poker Gods Be With You"
"Why Lie? I Need To Make A Sports Bet"
