As I turn the corner at Esmond and 30th street, I can’t help but notice a confab of PG&E trucks up ahead. At least three. With spinning yellow lights atop, ladders raised, and of course, a small mob of workers: men in hard hats, oranges vests and beards.
Should I take
another route today and avoid walking into their domain?
No. I am
not gonna let some PG&E guys keep me from my walking path. After all, they
aren’t gonna do anything to me, right?
As I turn
the corner at 31st street and begin my march through them, I can’t
help but engage. “Looks like you guys have a Situation here.”
They all chuckle.
One emerges from the group, scraggly black dreadlocks erupting from under his
hardhat. “We are in need of a Supervisor today. You game?”
I laugh. “Sure.”
“Someone
has to tell these guys to get to work!” he bellows, the men all laughing behind
him.
I slow my
pace, turn toward the group, and point at them all authoritatively: “I can do
that! Okay, guys, GET TO WORK!!!!”
Everyone
laughs, myself included.
But no one
moves. Evidently my power as the temporary supervisor is ineffectual and moot.
And, I have to wonder, what was it about me initially that inspired Dreadlocks
Man to joke about my being the supervisor? Do I have a bossy demeanor?
I do. But how did he know? My
bossiness must come across in my walk. Or the fact that I pronounced that they
had a ‘situation’ going on when I first came upon them. Obviously, they do. And
I had no clue what it was, but it didn’t matter. They just needed a supervisor.
Of course, I’ve been a supervisor most of my adult life as a college writing instructor. Giving out assignments, controlling classroom behavior, or trying to. I’ll never forget the time I was up in front of my class, going blah blah blah about something I’m sure was beyond boring, but one student would not put away his phone even after I had repeatedly (and nicely) asked him to. Finally, he gave me an exasperated stare and said: “Professor, I can’t put away my phone. I’m on call for a Mission and my commander might notify me at any moment.”
Shit. What could
I say to that? Never mind your commander and your mission to save democracy; you
have to listen to your English teacher drone on about the writing process.
I don’t
think so.
So, today,
when my command to “GET TO WORK” was ignored, and obviously it was just a joke
and I wasn’t expecting any movement, this wasn’t the first time that my authority
as a supervisor had been ignored.
Though I
doubt the PG&E guys were on a mission to save democracy. But a mission to keep
the power on?
Well, what’s more important than that?
