My job changed again. Since January, I’ve gone from full-time file clerk for Public Words and CED, to halftime file clerk and halftime projects and purchasing coordinator, and now halftime projects and purchasing coordinator (which is permanent), with halftime Public Works shop admin (hopefully also permanent).
Keeping up? Good.
The shop, for you great unwashed, is where the City of Shelton locates its utilities and services. The water department, solid waste, parks and head mechanic for the city’s fleet live there. The former head mechanic, a gracious and wonderful man, retired last Friday. My job entails monthly reports, work order tracking and other computer stuff – the admin work associated with the head mechanic position. The new head mechanic, also a great guy, will be doing the work of fixing things. Which I do not excel at and am only too glad to forgo. “Susan, step away from the tools!”
I’m working in the shop garage, in a little aerie above the repair floor. The office needs some sprucing up, but it has a door. I’ve never had a door. And there’s a fridge right outside that door. What else could a girl need?
The best part of this whole arrangement is I can see Ruby’s school, right next to us. I took advantage of this yesterday. I traipsed out into the spotty sunshine and got to greet her as she played foursquare with her buddies.
“Mom!” she yelled, running over to the chain link fence.
“Ruby!” I said, as I reached out to her. Not too much like a refugee camp, but a little.
One of the duties walked over, a 60ish woman with glasses and short blondish hair.
“Who are you, over here by the fence?” she said in mock accusatory tones. We smiled at each other.
I told her who I was and that I had just started working next door.
“Oh, those are good guys,” she said, gazing over my head at the garage. “They throw balls back when the kids kick them over the fence.”
She paused and looked at me, her spectacles winking in the sun.
“I know I’m supposed to act like it couldn’t happen here, but it could. Someone could come on the grounds with a gun.”
A ripple of fear passed through me. The school has been on lockdown a couple of times, but not for anyone on the property. The school shootings, all over the news, have become the elephant in the room. No one talks about them, but they exist just the same.
“I bet there are some hunters among the guys,” she posited.
“A few,” I said, laughing. I’d just had a conversation with coworker that morning about elk hunting.
“I’m sure at least one has a weapon in their truck. And I know they would come to our rescue,” she said, all seriousness.
From what I’ve seen so far, I think so, too. Thank God.
Those who live in the shelter of the Most High
will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
This I declare about the Lord:
He alone is my refuge, my place of safety;
he is my God, and I trust him. – Psalm 91:1-2