July 12, 2004

Arrived at work early, and proceeded to spend the entire day in the shop. Alone, in the shop. This is highly unusual at this store. In fact, this is the first time in the last two years that I've been the only cutter on staff. Russ was there, but he had managerial things to do, so I was left to my lonesome.

I have to admit, I'm a little achy.

Nevertheless, there is something nice about a "good honest day" of physical labor. The hours flew by--until 4pm, when my energy level bottomed out. But until then, I had a lot of fun. I worked slowly, because I haven't done a lot of this stuff in a long time. Usually, I don't use anything fancier than the table saw and drill press. Specifically, I avoid the router. I'm not sure why, but I've just gotten more apprehensive over the years. In Pleasant Hill, I used all the tools, as often as possible. I loved being able to do all the stuff the guys did, and hanging out in the shop. My buddy Michael was in the shop. And that guy I ended up marrying--he was usually in the shop too.

But San Leandro is a different kind of store. Larger, more segregated. That is, the staff is more specialized. Until the current staffing debacle, I my shop skills haven't been needed. I'm much more valuable on the sales floor, what with my seven years of product knowledge. And the guys in back have been....well, they aren't Michael or Shorn, let's just say that.

So I've let my skills whither and die. And with them, my confidence. Add it all together, and you come up with an equation where I'd rather let the shop guys do their thing, then mess something up and look like a doofus.

Today, however, there was nobody watching me. Nobody even asked me to do the cutting, but I knew that there were jobs that had to be done. So I put my hair up, and started cutting. I got all the pieces cut for all the jobs that were due. Set up a drilling jig for one, prepped all the others to be routed to shape, beveled, etc. As I finished prepping each one I set it aside on the router table, where I assumed somebody would appear to route them.

About a half hour into this, Russ rushes through the shop, showers me with gratitude for cutting, and mentions something about checking the lock on the router when I bevel that piece. With a sigh, I finally admit to myself that nobody is going to come and route--it's just me. Me, and the whirling blade of premature finger removal.

Chiding myself for my reluctance, I don my safety glasses and step towards the router. "Don't be a dork, Lisa. You've done this hundreds of time. You used to be cool. What happened? There was a time when you wanted to own a chainsaw...'just because'. Surely a router isn't going to kill you."

So I start routing.

And it was so fucking easy.

Of course I was shocked. And then I was shocked that I was shocked. Routing had always been easy. A little scary, but easy. The scary factor keeps it safe, actually. Hardly anybody hurts themselves on the router, because everybody is cautious when using it. I had just gotten a little too cautious, for reasons that I can't even remember.

After that, it took about thirty seconds for me to get back in the 'I can cut anything! I am mighty!' mindset. Remarkably, I survived the rest of the day without lobbing off any fingers, or even drawing blood. I actually only screwed up one piece, which is pretty impressive for me, just in general.

I continued to happily cut, route, grind, sand, drill, and buff for the next six hours. And when my new fancy girly watch finally said '4:30' I packed up and headed home--achy, sweaty, gritty, stinky, and feeling pretty badass.