Creating Your Own Job: Going Over and Above Doing What Has To Be Done.

Make no mistake, these are hard times. The job market is brutal, worse than I can remember.

For me, it has hit close to home.

Like so many others these days, my son Greg, 48, left, has run into a brick-wall job market after getting laid off from his job as a regional manager at Dunkin Donuts.

 "There are no jobs out there, period," he said.  Certainly not the the high-level, well-paid kind that Greg is used to.


He and his wife Kelly, a nurse, live outside Scranton, Pennsylvania in the little rural community of Lake Ariel.  Scranton is one of the most depressed cities in the country.

In fact, it is on its knees. Above is a headline last week from the major Scranton newspaper. My wife Barbara and I and my sister Ruby were in Scranton to help Greg do something about his joblessness.

He has decided to reinvent himself -- and create his own job.

He's going to set up a real estate company, tentative name: Electric Properties. (Scranton is called The Electric City.) With a small inheritance from the recent passing of his mom, Greg bought a rundown, two-apartment building in Scranton to fix up and rent out. When that is bringing in money, he'll go on to the next rental property, then the next, and the next...

That is the plan.

Meanwhile, for this first property, "rundown" is an understatement. The place, vacant for a few years, was a mess inside and out. The plumbing and electrical system needed major work. The roof and back stairs were falling down. The front yard was overgrown.

To neighbors and anybody driving by, it was an eyesore.  But Greg saw in the property something else: potential and opportunity. This takes imagination of the kind  BNY Mellon Wealth Management offers in the illustration below touting its services.





It shows a driver passing a hopelessly rundown property but seeing something quite different: a beautifully restored showcase. The heading says, "Sometimes opportunity isn't obvious."

The former owner of Greg's new property certainly saw no opportunity. He had inherited the place from his uncle and just wanted to get rid of an albatross.

After holding out, and holding out, Greg was able to buy the place at a huge bargain.  The price was more like what you would pay for a used car than for a house.

Another huge money-saver was that Greg planned to do most of the work himself, including plumbing and electrical. Greg is very handy. He is not afraid of hard work and certainly not when he is working for himself. Only for the roof and rebuilding the back stairs would he hire a contractor.

So all of us -- Greg and Kelly, Barbara and I, and Ruby -- went to work. Above is a photo of the crew working on the front. Here Greg saws away at the overgrown tree that was hiding the house. Ruby came up with a creative way to avoid pulling up the stump: covering it with a wooden barrel (bottom partially cut out) and filling it with decorative rock and eventually flowers.

Inside, Kelly and Greg spent long hours working together scraping paint, taping, redoing floors, painting. In the upstairs bath, Greg holds up the source of a leak that he found and fixed.

Me? I took pictures and ate. Just kidding!

Greg asked me to build a stone wall around the front and side of the house. It was a huge job that would take tons of fieldstone.

The good news was that Greg and Kelly had all kinds of rocks on their rural property. The bad news was that the rocks had to be searched out, dug up, hauled to a truck, and transported thirty minutes to the apartment house in Scranton.

Fortunately, Greg managed to get a great buy on a pick-up truck the day before we arrived. Also, Greg and Kelly both pitched in finding and hauling rocks. Below, Kelly is on a rock hunt, Greg pushes a wheelbarrow full of rocks uphill, and I'm lugging a big one.

Now the wall. Here are before and after photos of the side wall. Digging up those bushes was the hardest part and took up almost as much time as building the wall.

Here is the finished wall:

People noticed that the empty, forlorn place on the corner was not only rising from the dead but  bustling with activity.  The next door neighbor was thrilled. So was the owner of a funeral home across the street, who came over and happily introduced himself.

In a tightly populated community, I got all kinds of compliments on the wall from passersby.  Three people asked me about building a wall for them! As I worked, I was talking to people and making friends.

I heard life stories. Matt, 55 and a former fireman, told me that he was recovering from a stroke, couldn't work, and lived with his elderly and ailing mother for whom he was caretaker. When I met him, he had a cigarette in his mouth.

I put my hand on his shoulder and said, "Next time you come by, I don't want to see that cigarette, got that?"

He laughed. "Got it."

The next day he came by with a cigarette in his mouth.

I gave him a look.

He took the cigarette out of his mouth and threw it to the ground. "Sorry, sorry.  I forgot."

For the rest of the time I was there, Matt walked proudly by with no cigarette and we joked and laughed about it. I asked him, "Do you feel better now that I have taken charge of your life?"

"Yes," he said, nodding his head. When Matt and I said goodbye, he spoke seriously for the first time. "I''m never going to forget you. Every time I walk by here, I'm going to think of you."

"A no cigarette zone?"

"Yes."

Amazing.

And then there was the  little old lady who stopped on her way to church. She stopped to tell me how much she liked the wall. "Beautiful," she said. "Where do you get all the rocks?"

I told her. "If you need any more, I got plenty. You can help yourself. I just live down the street."

"Stop by after church and I'll go down with you and have a look."

She did. And as we walked down the hill to her house, I heard her life story. She is 83. Five years ago, she lost her husband of 55 years and now she lives alone.

"Family?"

"None. They all moved away."

Here was a lonely, elderly woman walking down the street talking with a complete stranger about her life and deepest feelings. Not only that, she opened the gate to her yard and invited me in. She was totally trusting -- and vulnerable. 

"Here they are," she said. "Come any time and take what you want."

To hell with the rocks. All I wanted to do was protect her.

"If I need them, I'll come. Thank you."

I left.

Greg began referring to the little old church lady as "my girlfriend."

In between my street socializing and hard work, we took breaks and, believe it or not, had fun and a lot of laughs. Who said that serious hard work has to be all serious and hard?  Here the work crew takes a break and enjoys a hearty laugh.

  

 I work for food, but I didn't have to wear my cardboard "will work for food" sign. I got fed -- and very well. Ruby, who loves to feed people, brought a huge bunch of her homemade meatballs and deliciously tender steaks, Barbara brought a big pasta dish and desserts, and Kelly cooked her specialty pork tenderloin. Yummy!

Here is Kelly with a great meal she prepared for us after a day of hard work. It was soooooo good!

As you read this, Greg and Kelly are working full steam ahead to get the place ready for rental in the next few weeks. They get to the apartment house as early as 7 am and work until they are ready to drop.

To create your own job, that's what you have to do.

I'm glad Barbara, Ruby, and I were able to help.

So long and keep moving.

P.S.  The next big challenge will be finding tenants who will pay the rent and not wreck the place. Ruby, who owns and manages several rental properties, is advising Greg on how to select good tenants. In her many years as a landlady, Ruby has encountered every rental problem -- including the "tenant from hell." With  Ruby's knowledge and experience behind him, Greg can avoid many problems -- and make success all the more reachable.


 NOTE: George Pollock's novel,  State Kid: Hero of Literacy is now available as an E-book on Amazon (Kindle) and Barnes & Noble ( Nook).

Billy Stone was a foster child.

He ran away from abuse.

He went to juvenile prison.

He went up from there.

And he did it his way.

 Through the power of the written word. 

         Amazon E-Books by George Pollock

 "State Kid: Hero of Literacy" is fiction based on his  real-life experiences  growing up in foster homes; "Last Laughs," is the true story of how five foster kids (he and four younger siblings) found their way in life and each other. "Killers: Surprises in a Maximum Security Prison," is the story of his being locked up for 23 hours with killers in a maximum security prison;  "I, Cadaver" is about his postmortem adventures and mischief in the anatomy lab at UMass Medical School. “A Beautiful Story” demonstrates the art and process of creative writing as a 16-year-old boy goes all out to write a story that literally saves his life;  "A Long, Happy, Healthy Life,"  is about how to live the title every day; and "Unlove Story," Writing anonymously as "Elvis," a husband, dumped after 38 years of marriage, lets it all out on love, marriage, life, everything. A guy doing this? It's unheard of.

   For the Nook:

A Beautiful Story
A Long, Happy, Healthy Life
I, Cadaver
Killers
State Kid
Unlove Story

Story of a Wall: Barbie's Dream of a Beautiful Stone Wall Comes True.

Let's set the stage with a short video.

A fieldstone wall along the cove of her modest lakeside home  has long been a dream of Barbie Bell. But for a single, hard-working woman not made of money, the size and cost of the project have given her pause.

At a going rate starting at least $30 an hour, Barbie’s wall could cost a few thousand bucks. The building of a fieldstone wall is extremely labor intensive. The hours and costs add up fast.

Barbie’s dream wall can’t be mass-produced and rote-assembled. It is the opposite of that. It is a joint creation of nature and humankind that is unique and must fit seamlessly into the environment. The ultimate goal of a fieldstone wall is to bring out the natural beauty of its surroundings.

When a fieldstone wall looks like it has always been there, when you cannot imagine it not there, when its natural harmony reaches into your soul and puts you at peace, then and only then, will a fieldstone wall have fulfilled its destiny ---  which is to make people feel good every  time they see it.  

Isn’t that a lot to expect from a stone wall? No. Can a stone wall do this for people? Yes.

I’ve been building fieldstone walls for years. I’ve built them at my homes in Connecticut and in Worcester, Mass. and at my sister Ruby’s summer cottage. This is a wall in the back yard at my place in Worcester. Every time I look at my walls, which is just about every day, their natural beauty and harmony make me feel good.

I have never built a wall for money.   But a few weeks ago, Barbie, a friend  of the family from way back, e-mailed me. Actually, she’s become family, calling me “Uncle George.” She has seen my walls and asked me if I would build one for her at her lakeside home   She offered to pay me and asked for an estimate.  

Her timing was perfect.  With no wall projects, I had been thinking of building fieldstone walls as a part-time job.  I e-mailed her back, saying that I  would do it. I said I didn’t want to give her a scary estimate but would give her an hourly rate that would be the “bargain of a lifetime.”

We met the very next day at her place and I saw what had to be done.  The water was down in the lake and would be for about a month. It was not a lot of time but Barbie saw a window of opportunity.

For her, it was now or maybe never.  And Barbie was choosing “now.”

Another big plus was a good rock supply  right there in the drained lake. For years, Barbie had been collecting and piling rocks in the hope that someday they would be used for her dream wall.  

For my walls, I mostly scavage rocks, picking them up at vacant lots, in the woods, on the side of roads, at construction sites.  At construction sites, I ask permission and have never been turned down. I pride myself on never taking a working rock.

However, in the interest of full disclosure, it is said that I am a rock thief who is known to the police.

Notwithstanding the good rock supply, this was still a huge job and Barbie knew it. “I know it might take the entire month of May,” she said.  But she said that with the lake down, the time was right and she wanted to go for it, though she was concerned about the cost.

“What’s the legal minimum wage?” I asked, “eight bucks an hour?  That’s what I’ll charge you.  And if the hours add up to too many, I’ll reduce the amount.”  

Barbie smiled.  Well aware that I am no longer young -- I turned  73 on May 2 -- she said that she would have a guy come down to dig and haul  the rocks for me. “Great,” I said.

He never showed up.

I had  barely gotten started before Barbie  left for a vacation week at a New Orleans Jazz Festival. In the photo, you can see how far I had to go. Out there by myself in the mucky cove, I go on full throttle. I search out rocks with at least one flat, or fairly flat face to provide a smooth, even look.

With my iron bar, I pry big base rocks out of the muck  that are needed for the foundation.  I lug them by hand or pull them by cart.  I never fail to be surprised that I can move these big rocks, some of them small boulders.  

Many  I pick up and carry, hugging them to my chest. Big ones, I bend way down and push, shove, and roll slowly through the muck.  

This work is not for sissies. And if you have a problem getting filthy dirty, forget it.

On top of the base rocks, I gather rocks of all sizes, eyeing each for particular places.  After years of building walls, I can often size up a rock to fit into a specific space.  I love the thunk a rock makes when it slides perfectly into place. 

Most of the time, however, there is a lot of trial and error before getting a perfect fit and hearing that satisfying thunk.

By the way, that thunk is nice to hear because it tells me that an unseen, powerful, and uncompromising force that wants to weaken the wall can't.  It attacks the instant  one rock is placed on another. Its ultimate goal: reduce the wall to a pile of rocks. 

That force is gravity.  But to be fair, it has a good side that comes out when you show it who is boss. That is done when one thunk after another adds strength and stability and gives gravity no room to cause trouble. Cornered, it changes sides.

From fighting the wall, the turncoat throws its immense power into making it stronger. This is classic personality disorder with equally great and indiscriminate capacity for good OR evil. A wallbuilder must bring out gravity's good side. That's what I am working toward below as I set the very first base rocks of Barbie's wall.


  

After a couple of days, I was running out of the base rocks so important to a wall’s foundation. I was worried.  Would I have to use smaller rocks and compromise the foundation?

I needn’t have worried.  When I showed up the next morning, I found a gift from heaven: a big pile of base rocks along with rocks of all sizes.  I assumed it was the work of the fellow that Barbie had spoken of.

It wasn’t. It was the work of another friend of Barbie’s, Tim. “You did all that?” I asked him when he showed up.  He nodded. He was on vacation from work and had volunteered to help.“Talk about good timing,” I said. “ I had just about run out of the big ones. Welcome.”

Though I felt I had made good progress by myself, I had  done  only about 20% of the wall by the time Tim came on board.  With the two of us working together, work speeded up dramatically.  Tim, 40, is  strong  and works like a slave.  Here he moves a huge rock, laboriously, inch by inch, foot by foot.
 











The harder Tim worked, the harder I worked.  The more I pushed, the more he pushed. I was the old man bent on showing that he could still do it.  He was the young guy not about to be outworked by a fogie  approaching expiration date.  We were two  stallions rearing up on hind legs and flailing hooves at each other.

We competed in another way as well.  In wall-building, I’m a barely evolved hominid from the dawn of humankind in Africa three million years ago. I use a board with a line on it to measure the height of the wall.   More modern, Tim checks a wall’s height with string stretched between  wooden stakes.  We used both methods, ancient and modern.

Every time I was about to run out of rocks, Tim dumped a new pile of rocks at my feet. If I needed medium-sized rocks, he brought them. If I needed flat rocks, ditto. If I needed little flat and pointy-tipped rocks, the mortar of a fieldstone wall, he produced them.  These little ones are critical to a walls strength and stability. They drive old man gravity crazy.

With Barbie hoping to get her wall done in a month but not really expecting it, we set our sights on getting it done by the time she got back -- in other words, unthinkably, from start to finish,  in under one week.  

Amidst  the feverish work pace and macho displays, we talked about how pleasantly shocked Barbie was going to be when she came home and found her wall finished.  “She’s going to be so surprised,” Tim said. “She’s going to jump up and down she’s going to be so happy.”

“Don’t let on how much we are getting done,” I said.

“I’m not.  When I talk to her, I tell her it’s pretty slow going.”

“Good,” I said. “I can’t wait to see her reaction.”

With the two of us working like a couple of maniacs, the wall was soon in its final stages.  Tim and I eye-balled it from afar for height and visual appeal.  I made adjustments.  We eye-balled it again.  I made more adjustments.  We did that until we could find nothing to fix.

Tim and I looked at each other. “Looks good,” he said.

“Yes, I think so,” I said.

Barbie arrived home on the scheduled evening and wanted to go right out and look at the wall.  But Tim insisted that she had to wait until the next morning  so they could see the wall together. She was up at five and had to wait a couple of hours for Tim.  It felt like an eternity, she said, because she was dying to see the wall.

Tim finally escorted Barbie out to see her wall. She took one look at it and her jaw dropped. She was shocked, dazzled, amazed, and happy, happy, happy!  I came over and three of us celebrated and took pictures. Here Barbie and Tim pose with the finished wall behind them.
 

“I want to pay you,” Barbie said.  “Let’s go inside.”

Inside, we sat at her kitchen table and I gave her a sheet showing the hours I had worked.  It was 31 hours.  At $8 an hour, the bill was $245.

“You worked so hard and the wall is so beautiful, I want to pay you more than that,” she said. She wrote out a check for $350 and handed it to me. She apologized for it being so little.  “I know it’s worth a lot more than that,” she said. “Thank you so much. I’m so happy.”

“It was my pleasure.  If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

For Barbie and me, this was win-win. She got a beautiful fieldstone wall at a bargain price, but I also made out like a champ. For the first time, I got paid in real money for a wall.  In our society, this is an important way that we assign value.  

When Barbie gave me that check, as modest as it was, it felt good. And I know when I get checks for future walls that are closer to the going rate, though still a bargain, I’ll feel even better.

In addition, Barbie gave me a physical workout equivalent to 31 hours in a gym.  For that whole time, I was in constant motion, walking, bending, lifting. The arms, legs, lungs, and circulatory system of this old body got a great workout.

Instead of  being in a gym  tediously walking a treadmill and lifting weights  and constantly looking at my watch for an  end to the torture, I was outside building a wall and enjoying every minute of it. I didn't even know that I was exercising hour upon hour.  Time was timeless.

In a gym, I would have created nothing.  At Barbie’s, I created a beautiful wall that will be there for her and others to enjoy long after I am gone.

Thank you, Barbie.

The next day, I got an e-mail from Barbie:

Uncle George,

Wow.

That's all I can say.

I am so very thankful for the work you did! The wall, now known as GPW, [George Pollock Wall], looks stunning!!!!! ….  thank you, thank you, thank you!

It's gorgeous!!!!!!!

I know Tim helped you quite a bit- and that helped speed up the process, but  I am still amazed that it took you two under a week to build something so beautiful.

Thank you again so much!!!

The GPW sits patiently, waiting for the water to return so it can be seen by all boaters and show off its beauty.

xoxo,
Barbie

 Barbie and her hired rock guy

  at the GPW. See video below.

So long and keep moving.

Amazon E-Books by George Pollock

 "State Kid: Hero of Literacy" is fiction based on his  real-life experiences  growing up in foster homes; "Last Laughs," is the true story of how five foster kids (he and four younger siblings) found their way in life and each other. "Killers: Surprises in a Maximum Security Prison," is the story of his being locked up for 23 hours with killers in a maximum security prison;  "I, Cadaver" is about his postmortem adventures and mischief in the anatomy lab at UMass Medical School. “A Beautiful Story” demonstrates the art and process of creative writing as a 16-year-old boy goes all out to write a story that literally saves his life;  "A Long, Happy, Healthy Life," which is about how to live the title every day; and "Unlove Story," Writing anonymously as "Elvis," a husband, dumped after 38 years of marriage, lets it all out on love, marriage, life, everything. A guy doing this? It's unheard of.

   For the Nook:

A Beautiful Story
A Long, Happy, Healthy Life
I, Cadaver
Killers
State Kid
Unlove Story