RE: The power of a good curse

I have worked in construction for decades now, and early on noticed I had acquired a foul mouth, as is common in the field. I purposed then to not let slip expletives without thought, because it was a habit that accompanied one far beyond job sites, to places where such language was highly inappropriate, such as parent/teacher conferences. As a result when things inevitably went awry on the job, as they do, I discovered that catching myself before unleashing curses caused me to discover the humorous aspects of such events, and instead of being angry that something - or a series of somethings - had gone wrong, I would wryly grin and even burst into laughter. I found this highly preferable. Being amused all the time at the efforts of the world to discomfit me actually enabled me to enjoy days I'd have been outraged, angry, and unhappy throughout before.

However, this could also be inappropriate, as angry, cursing construction workers will take a sudden outburst of laughter as a personal attack, when they're outraged at some breakage or loss, and we're all armed with blades and hammers all the time. I sought to control myself, not offend my co-workers who couldn't, so I learned to keep such reactions to myself as well.

Once, back when I still had employers, I was fixing up a very expensive beach home with a magnificent deck overlooking the ocean for a local contractor. He had hired a new laborer, unskilled but willing to bear heavy burdens lugging materials around job sites, and etc. I was high up on a ladder off this deck, which was stained a deep, dark brown, and the laborer was lugging a 5 gallon bucket of paint over to where the contractor was painting trim around doors and windows white, when the laborer tripped and spilled the white paint onto the dark brown deck. There was a moment of shocked silence, as we all processed the additional work we would have to do, and the contractor totaled up the money he would be losing, into which silence I observed 'Well, that's not good.'

Suddenly the contractor became apoplectic, screaming invective and dire imprecations - not at the laborer, or just generally - but at me. He fired me on the spot. Then I could not help myself, and I burst into laughter, barely able to see to dismount the ladder and gleefully gather up my tools to escape the utter insanity the job had become. The laborer would spend the rest of the day cleaning the deck, and the contractor would have to go buy new (expensive) paint, which meant he wouldn't get any work done, either. I was the only one making him any money! Of course, that did not improve the mood, but the more he shouted and the redder he turned, the more hilarious I found the situation and the harder I laughed. That was when I decided I would work for myself, and not anymore for contractors. Now every day is a good day, and I come home at the end of my struggles with a world determined to make me unhappy not only tired from the work, but pleased I have overcome the setbacks of the day, feeling victorious, as if I have defeated an implacable enemy.

Thanks!