Letting S*** Go
- Izaak David Diggs
- Jun 7, 2024
- 4 min read
LETTING S*** GO
Getting to work requires two buses: The 20 gets me across the river, the 6 gets me to the neighborhood where I work. A few days ago the 20 was three minutes late. As the transit pulled from my stop, I stared at the digital clock with anxiety; the 6 would be at my other stop in three minutes, would I miss my connection? The road ascended onto the Burnside Bride as my anxiety climbed. Two minutes, yep, I was gonna miss my connection—
If it happens, it happens. It’s not the end of the world. If you miss the connection you text work to let them know you’ll be around fifteen minutes late.
I didn’t just have that thought I accepted it, embraced it even. I looked at the Willamette, how beautiful it was in the light of the rising sun. The 20 dropped me off at Grand. As I crossed the road, I saw the 6 pulling up; everything had just fallen into place as if planned. Standing in the crowded bus, I reflected on what had happened: I had let shit go, just accepted what would come, and everything had worked out.
I work for Security Company A. We are contracted by one of the biggest companies in the world to do security for several of their facilities. At the facility I work at, there is only one guard at a time driving around the parking lots making sure things are secure. A lot of our job is chasing hobos from the dumpsters. I have found I am well suited for security work: The gig requires a keen sense of observation and skill at documenting what you observe, two traits I possess. The commute is a bugger (I have to get up at four a.m.) and North Portland has a huge drug and mental health crisis, but I am mostly left to my own devices. A couple of weeks ago, I was hanging out in a parking lot when a white sedan pulled up nearby. A man climbed out with a smile and a flyer. He was from Security Company B. Big Company was unhappy with Security Company A so—in “30 to 45 days”—Security Company B was taking over the account and they wanted to recruit the guards from my company. I mostly listened and nodded as he told me I would make two more dollars an hour. After he drove off, I texted my boss to let him know what happened. The following day, my boss drove out to the site to explain to me and another guard what had happened. Our company had 160 guards working for Big Company, a lot of them hired when I was hired (late March). The reality was that the odds of those 160 guards continuing to have full time work for Security Company A was extremely low. So, I let my boss know I really wanted to keep working for him and the company—and I applied with Security Company B because I had to be pragmatic. I figured it was in the bag: I had experience with the facility, knew what the client wants, blah blah blah—
And yesterday I got a “we’ve decided to go with other candidates” email from Security Company B.
I was pissed off: I worked my ass off to do that job well and because of some random reason I was losing my job. Also, I had been at the site the longest, who could be a better “candidate?” Everything just felt so unfair. And now I had to scramble and look for another job and—
Maybe the purpose of this job had been achieved: You needed a job to get the apartment. Well, you have the apartment. You cling to this job because it demands little of you and you’ve gotten comfortable doing it; that doesn’t mean you should continue doing it, maybe you’re supposed to move on.
So I just let it go…
And then I got drunk with my friend last night.
We live in uncertain times. People are struggling to pay their rent, to buy groceries that get more and more expensive. Fast food has become a luxury item. Personally, I will most likely be working the rest of my life. That may be the way it plays out, but I understand the quality of my life will be a lot better if I can just let shit go, to look at there being a purpose to losing a job or a drummer not working out or whatever. Honestly, taking this approach is oddly exciting, like something is unfolding that I am scarcely aware of, an adventure even. I have decided to pursue becoming a professional bass player—
Wait. Haven’t you been a professional musician since you were a teenager? Second question: Aren’t you RF old??
Music has always been another art project for me, a means of expressing myself. When you are a professional, you are paid to help someone realize their own vision. I am a good bass player, but I need to be a great one which means four to six months of extensive practice, getting my ability to read music up to par, and learning a wide variety of musical genres. My initial idea was to be a musician on a cruise ship—traveling doing music!—but that seemed too narrow a focus. So, I will get my skills to a competitive level and get an agent. Next February, in the middle of another dreary Portland winter, I will re-evaluate, see if I want to continue living in a city…or the United States, for that matter. I often think I’ll end up just drifting around the US in a homemade camper but who knows.
Part reason for this blog is to promote the sixteen books I have for sale on Amazon. They range from non-fiction to fiction to lyrics/poetry. You can find them for sale here:
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