My Gypsy Life

One of the definitions of a gypsy is a nomadic or free-spirited person. Nomadic just in case you didn’t know, means roaming about from place to place aimlessly, frequently, or without a fixed pattern of movement. I feel like this sums up most of my adult life. I grew up in Michigan. I lived there until I was twenty-four. In the last nineteen years, it has been a free for as far as where I have lived. This includes Tallahassee, Florida; Overland Park, Kansas; Concordia, Kansas; York, Pennsylvania (while working in Baltimore, Maryland); Patterson, California (while working in Fremont & Richmond, California); and Springfield, Pennsylvania. As you can see, there is not rhyme or reason to where I have lived. It has been a journey of where opportunities have presented themselves and having the ability to say yes.

We all hear that this life is a journey, and I feel that I have taken that quite literally. The cool part about living all over this country is that I have been able to learn that every single place has customs and traditions that are unique to that place. And although we say we are from the same country, it has been an eye-opening experience to see and understand what that means in each of the locations that I have lived. What people hold near and dear to their hearts is not the same in the different cities throughout the United States.

Living all over the place has given me many gifts that I do not think I would have been afforded had I stayed in the area that I grew up in. And the fun part of these gifts, is that that were able to be shared with my family as we nomadically traveled from place to place together. I have a lot more empathy for situations that I could never fully understand, because I did not grow up under the circumstances of the folks that I have met along this journey. My children have had the pleasure of experiencing and building their journey in a more open-minded way because of this as well. This has not been an easy journey by any means, as picking up and moving hundreds if not thousands of miles every few years can be difficult. It also means that we have had to sacrifice many things that come with growing roots by staying in the same place and growing your support there. We have had to rely on each other more than I think folks that stay put might have to at times. When things are hard, there wasn’t close family or friends to come quickly to help out. The resiliency this has taught us is a gift, and although it would have been easy to throw in the towel at times, I am grateful for the fact that we have stuck it out and learned the lessons the situation has taught us.

Now, why should you read this you ask? Well, I keep talking about some of the gifts I have been afforded on this journey. Some of those gifts are about how each and every one of us did not grow up the same way. Through learning and understanding the different people I have met on my journey I have learned how to interact with people that are different than me. Some of these stories are hilarious and some of these stories are sad. But in the end they have taught me how to meet people where they are and instead of having a hard path forward in trying to accomplish something, sometimes you have to take a softer route to get to the end goal. My hope is that while you may not have dug up your roots and traveled all of the place, you may take some of my stories and apply them to situations that you have when you encounter someone whose views are starkly different than your own. The further into my journey I have come, the more I am realizing that life is not about accomplishing a task so much as its about the connections we make. And through these connections, the task will get completed, many times faster than it would have without the connection. It’s a fun circle. Do you see what I did there? I think I have covered all of the baseline information to be able to get into the fun stories that make up my life.

This journey begins with an overly confident 18-year-old, who is about to naively embark on her adult life. Now I will tell you that this is not necessarily a bad thing, as my journey has been an exciting one. The purpose of me telling you my story is to help you understand how I was able to find success even when the odds were not in my favor. I am hoping that this will inspire people who may feel lost, teach some of the lessons I learned the hard way, and maybe make you laugh at some of the ridiculousness I have encountered along the way. I am convinced that the success in my career has come from the ability to connect with the people I work with. And this my friends, is not taught in the books you pay a bajillion dollars for in school. I have also been fortunate enough to have some really amazing adults (I was also an adult in this story, but they were much older and wiser than me, so they were the adults) bonk me on the head when they could see I was headed down a bad path.

It seems that there is the assumption that you go to school, go to work, and you magically have all the skills required to be at the top of your field. The thing I do not remember reading or talking about is some of the soft skills that you must learn through experience. Especially when you realize (and many people never realize this) that none of us grew up the same way. So, our interaction in the adult world is not going to be the same as everyone else. And if you cannot learn to recognize when that is the case, you are going to make your life harder. What makes this more fun, is when you leave the town you grew up in, it is painfully more apparent that people did not grow up the same as you.

Now let’s get started. I am the oldest of six kids, my family was a typical blue collar, midwestern family. My mom was a stay-at-home mom, and my dad worked like seventeen jobs to keep us all fed. Neither of my parents finished college. I was the oops baby that came along shortly into my mom’s college career, and to be a single mom in the early eighties at college, was not a thing. By the time that I hit high school, my parents were very hands off. They were busy chasing the other five kids around and I was the least of their worries. Fortunately, I was kind of a dork in high school. I had a 3.9 G.P.A., was in bunches of clubs, played lots of sports (softball was my jam), and worked a part time job. I was accepted to three different colleges with full academic scholarships. I chose the college based on what any normal 18-year-old would choose. Where my friends were going. And to make it even better, I wanted to live there, even though I lived ten minutes away from this school. My academic scholarship did not cover room and board because the school was like “Sister, you already live here. What are you thinking?” Needless to say, this was not one of my smartest choices.

I was going to be a doctor. I had wanted to be a doctor since I was six years old. The challenge with this, is if you have no one to guide you in what you are supposed to do to become a doctor, this is a tough path to choose. And, little did I know at the time, but I had no idea how to study. High school was not hard for me academically, and I never had to study for anything. In hindsight, I think if I would have known how to study or cared enough to put in that extra effort, I probably could have rocked out the valedictorian spot.

So here I am, living at a college ten minutes away from where I grew up, kicking ass with my grants and scholarships, realizing I need money for food and all the shenanigans that are college. I was still working the part time job I had in high school, and I decided that I would also get my E.M.T license at the same time. My time management at this point was amazing. I had all the typical pre-med classes and quickly realized I was out of my league. I would do my typical routine for a test and was getting C’s. I was even struggling with the homework. By the way, I had never in my life received a C in school, so I was pretty devastated at that first one. It took all of one semester for me to self-destruct and quit.

So now here I am, working at the restaurant, not having a clue what to do because my life dream had just been flushed down the toilet, when I chatted with my BFF who was talking about becoming a teacher. I was like “I could do that.” I went back to the college and signed up for the teachery stuff. About halfway through the semester, a close friend from the restaurant was diagnosed with Leukemia. He died a few short months after his diagnoses. This was the first time that I had experienced someone who I was close to dying, and I did not handle it well. I quit going to classes which ultimately forced me to quit. I was drinking and smoking to hide from dealing with his death. I realized I needed to find a “real job”. And by that, I mean one with insurance. (Back in the late 90’s you were kicked off your parent’s insurance at 18). And so the terrifying reality of life became ever so real.

Life lessons from my 2.8 seconds of college the first time:

• Grants and scholarships are only good if you FINISH school. If you don’t finish, you have to pay them back.

• Before signing anything financially related, it would be wise to find some grown up that understands what you are signing.

• Living at college for a semester (in 1999) cost roughly $10,000… so make sure this is worth it. (It is probably much more expensive now)

• As soon as you realize you don’t know how to study and you really want to learn, find those people. They do exist, I promise.

• Death is no joke. Get support. More on how to get support in later chapters.

One of the local factories was hiring, so I decided to apply. Somehow, I passed the drug test and they agreed to pay me $10.00 an hour and I would have insurance. I felt like such a grown up. Fun fact about factories… they are a little soap opera within the world. People are fighting with each other, sleeping with each other, all kinds of shenanigans. Anyways, I started out on the shop floor, in the welding department. I was given the job of squirting some oil on this cranky looking thing and then using a tool to make sure it spun. This was my first experience with a production line that moved so I had to be faster than the dude at the next station or they would pull a cord that would stop the line, and all the old (um I mean seasoned) employees would yell at you for stopping the line. My competitiveness came out, and there was no way they were stopping that line because of me. Within a few months, I had learned all of the jobs (and personalities) on that line. I remember a spot opened on one of the welders. This was a big deal because this was the heartbeat of the line. You had to know how to tell if a weld was bad or not, and how to adjust your machine to fix it. I was super excited to learn it… there was only one problem. There were no girl welders. And apparently many of the men (and even other women) had doubts that girls had eyeballs for seeing defects and could comprehend the big words to be able to clean the machine to keep it going. And thus sparked my “I shall prove you wrong” mentality that has carried me quite far in my career.

So here I am, 20 years old, and ready to prove the world that girls can run welders. The first week or so, they had to stop the line no less than 782 times because I couldn’t keep up. Why did they not pull me off the job you ask? Because no one else wanted to do it. It was hot (there was no A/C in this department), you could burn yourself, the parts were heavy, and everyone yelled at you. By week two, I found a rhythm and was able to keep my two machines humming along just as good as the dude who ran the two machines next to me. Then, the dude next to me called out sick, and they couldn’t find anyone else to run his machines. They asked me to try to keep them all running… and I did. I fucking crushed it. And poof, just like that “Girls could run welders”.

There were dedicated maintenance guys that would come fix the welders when they would break. One of the guys was an older farmer that would spend a lot of time with me at my machine. In hindsight he was probably hitting on me, but I was oblivious to that. I would ask him questions when he would come about what all the buttons did, why did he turn that knob, what did this light mean, etc.. Eventually, I had the best running machines with the lowest defects in the department. I knew how to change the tips, fix gas problems, and do basic maintenance on my equipment. One extremely hot and humid summer day, he came to me and said there were apprenticeship jobs opening up and that I should apply.

I remember vividly walking down to the human resources office with two other employees on our break to sign up. The HR lady asked which program we wanted to sign up for.

“Electrician” I blurted out. And this was not because I knew in my heart that I wanted to be an electrician, but more because I knew what an electrician was.

“That’s a two year wait list honey.” She flatly replied. “Should I put you on the list?”

“Um, no. I do not want to wait two years. What else do you have?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes and said “Plumber, tool maker, millwright…”

“Ooooh what’s a millwright?” I asked very excitedly.

“It’s like a mechanic. They fix the machines, move the machines, and take care of the building.” She answered. She did not seem impressed by my enthusiasm.

“Sign me up!” I said with a confidence I now look back at and wonder how anyone took me seriously.

“Um, there are no girls in this program.” She said. “You would be the only one. You still want me to sign you up?”

Now you have to remember that this in 1999, the rules for what jobs women could do were a little different back then. There was not the openness to talk about worker equality like there is now. And I have to say in hindsight, that I am grateful that I was able to forge the path for other women to be comfortable applying for these positions after I started.

“Hell yes, sign me up. I will crush this mail, no wait mill, no wait…”

“Millwright!” she exclaimed. “Oh, the boys are going to love you.”

A few weeks later, my boss came to me and said that my interview for this program would be the following week. The welding maintenance guy who had taught me how to fix my welder, began prepping me for some of the questions that he knew they would ask me. My confidence was growing even though my skillset was lacking.

The first part of the gauntlet of was to take an aptitude test. There was a math section – which I crushed. 3.9 G.P.A remember? A tool section – which I failed. I don’t think some of the pictures on this were real… but the jury is still out on that. And there was a gear section – which I did pretty good on. There were a series of gears, and they would say that one was spinning in a certain direction and ask which way the one on the bottom would be going. It was like a puzzle.

Next came the panel interview. Now, this was the first time in my life I had to do a panel interview… shoot this was the first time I had to do a formal interview. All of my previous experience was literally filling out the application and finding out when I started. I also did not realize it was with 8 people. 4 of them were salaried employees with the company, and 4 of them were union members.

It kind of felt like an American Idol audition, with several employees sitting in chairs outside of a large room waiting for their name to be called. Except there was no golden ticket, and a lot less screaming when people left the room.

My name was finally called. I bounced into the room, ready to wow them with my youngness that appeared to be lacking from the group I saw sitting on the other side of the table. I was going to be the next Mill… ummmm… millwright… yeah that’s what it’s called.

“Can you tell us about your experience?” One of the older men with white hair asked.

“I have mostly worked at restaurants until I started working here.” I replied. “And I now run the welders on the AE line. I fix the machines and have the best quality in the department.”

One of the other gentlemen jumped in “Is that all of the mechanical experience that you have?” he asked.

“Yes sir. That’s it.” I answered.

“You never worked on a car before?” Another asked.

“Nope.” I said.

“How about growing up, did you ever work on a bike or help your dad around the house?” Another asked.

“Nope.” I said.

“Well why in the world should we give you this opportunity?” Another asked.

That frazzled me slightly. I sat there for a minute and replied. “Because as you can see, I passed all of the aptitude tests with flying colors, other than the tool section. I graduated a year ago 11th in my class and I have learned how to keep a welder running smoothly here in less than 6 months. The lack of skills I have to fix the equipment at this point should be seen as a good thing in your eyes.”

“Why is that?” one of the men asked.

“Because I am a blank slate. I have no bad habits for you to break when it comes to this job. I will only be able to do what you teach me how to do.” I answered.

All 8 of the men looked at each other and there was a little bit of a murmer amongst them.

“We will get back to.” One of the men said as he dismissed me from the meeting.

The next day, my welder mechanic came over to ask how it went.

“I think I crushed it.” I said. “But some of those guys didn’t seem to like me.”

“You did great. I think you will get in. They will let you know by the end of the week.” He said.

My boss came out a few days later and said they accepted me. I was to start this new role at the end of the month. I was going to be on second shift. Which I was not excited about, but I was the rookie and had to rotate just like the rest of the apprentices.

Day one came and the guys did not seem excited to have me. There was an old, square wooden table that sat in the back of the shop. Everyone’s toolboxes lined the aisle leading to the table. After the supervisor introduced me to the 2 journeyman millwrights, 1 apprentice millwright, 2 journeyman electricians, 1 apprentice electrician, 2 journeyman plumbers, and 1 apprentice plumber on that shift, one of the older journeyman asked me to sit down.

“Do you have a toolbox?” he asked?

“No, I didn’t know I needed one.” I answered.

His head tilted slightly, and he looked at me over his glasses that were sliding down his nose.

“Well, any of you boys have one she can use till we build her one?” he said.

He was obviously the guy in charge on this shift. I could tell by the way everyone responded to his scariness.

“She can have this.” One of the other apprentices spoke up as he began emptying out a large black box.

“Did you bring any tools?” the older man asked.

“I don’t have any tools sir.” I was beginning to get a little nervous, but I didn’t want him to see it.

“Take her to the shop and get her the basics.” He barked out to the apprentice who gave me his toolbox.

“I want to be clear about something young lady. This is a man’s world. I do not want you coming in here thinking that you are going to change how we talk to each other. How we treat each other. If you think you are going to be changing things, we can make your life very difficult you see? Do you understand?” he said.

At this point all of the other men were staring at me.

“Sir, I have no intention on changing anything. I just want to learn. Pretend I have a penis if that makes you feel any better. I do not want to be treated different than any of these other guys here.” I replied before I really had a chance to process what he had just said to me.

A smile came across his face and he laughed a little.

“I think we will be just fine. Now get to work.” He said.