Finding Direction in Directing TrafficByJ. R. Simons 2013I havent had a full-time job since June 30, 2009, having been squeezed out of a position at a small Ohio university by forces that were beyond my control. I have spent the last four years scraping out a living with a series of part-time jobs, independent contract employment, and seasonal work. I have, however, grown greatly from the experience of being under-employed for so long. Working for so many different employers has exposed me to so many different management styles and so many different types of work. Some of this work has been fairly well-paid, free-from-oversight teaching work and some of this work has been highly micro-managed, low-wage hourly work. Either way, I have been able to cobble together enough work not only to maintain our previous lifestyle, but in some years to come out ahead financially, even making more money than when I was employed full-time and even having more free time than when I was working full-time. One of the more interesting short-term, low-wage jobs I held was as traffic controller for the Lorain County Fair in Wellington, Ohio.I took the job at the end of July when my independent contract job with Amhersts Sandstone Summer Theatre ended, and I still didn't know whether or not my unemployment would be approved. I figured a week's work at $8 an hour would help keep the cash flowing while we figured out what to do, and I kept looking for work. Then unemployment came through, but I decided to work the week anyway just because I said I would. I'm that kind of person. When I say I'll do something, I do it.So, I showed up for work a few minutes early on Monday. The information sheet said we would receive "hands on training." So, I figured I'd get a little map and layout of the fair and some idea of what I'd be doing. At 2:30PM, I was introduced to the supervisor, Ben, a very tall country boy with a goatee who chewed tobacco and spit into a water bottle the way my friend from high school, Jeff Colwell, used to do into those old 16-ounce glass pop bottles they used to sell in the 1970s and 1980s when he was trying to make weight for wrestling. (I'd shorten this. Too much detail takes me away from the scene you're building. Maybe more like: the way a friend in high school used to spit saliva in to an empty pop bottle to make weight for wrestling.) Ben pointed to five of us and loaded us up on a 6-person golf cart to take us out to our positions on the fairgrounds drive. At each location, guys jumped off the cart and relieved people at the location.(You might want to reconsider the previous sentence, ie: location, location.) I was the last to be dropped off at a crosswalk between the camper area and the parking lot by the railroad tracks. It was a lot like being picked for a prison road gang and being dumped on the highway to pick up litter for community service.My "training" (I'd remove the quotes. It comes off unintentionally condescending.) consisted of me asking the girl I was relieving, "So, what am I doing here?" She replied, "Just stop the traffic and let people cross whenever they come by" and got on the cart after giving me her vest and radio. I spent the next two hours at that post, bored out of my skull. I got to stop traffic about 8 times in that time.(Again, reconsider the wording, repetitious. Perhaps combine the sentence with the preceding one.) I composed lines of poetry about the experience, though, figuring that maybe sometime I would fashion the event and the experience into a poem or a series of poems about the fair.(Sorry to be repetitious, but the last sentence had "poetry, experience, experience, poem, poems." Any way to make it more efficient?)Around this time, Ben came back around and picked me up for my 15-minute break. He left a guy I dubbed "white cowboy hat dude," whom I later learned was named Jeff and nicknamed Tex, at my post. He grumbled a little and complained but said he'd do it for 15 minutes.(I might switch the contents of the previous two sentences. With the premise that you've had to take relatively menial jobs there's a danger as coming off as condescending. The sentence "He left a guy..." Could be streamlined and reduce the danger. I may be overly sensitive to this, however.) I sat in the tent and quickly jotted down the lines of poetry that I had composed while I worked the crosswalk lest I forget them before I got home. Ben came back in about 20 minutes and took a bunch of us back out on the road. He said, "I think I'll put you out at main gate for awhile. I like to mix things up for everybody." Main gate, or The Point as it was also called, was far more interesting than the crosswalk was(cut 'was.' If I wasn't doing this on an iPad I think I could use a strikeout, but this little device is frustratingly inadequate.). I got to wave through a lot of cars and even talk to a few patrons coming and going. But that only lasted about an hour when Ben came back around and took me in for my 30-minute lunch break. Once lunch was over, Ben came back and picked us up to go back out on the road. He immediately stopped at the intersection and crosswalk behind the parking headquarters. I had decided during lunch that I would just volunteer and jump out at the first place and jumped out there and took over for one of the guys.I ended up spending the rest of the night at that location. I noticed an old guy in a baseball cap riding a Gator around the park keeping an eye on the intersection. It turns out that this intersection (was) is the busiest one at the fair. It's the only 4-way intersection on the grounds connecting the "mosquito lot" to gate 3. It's also where the shuttles run from "mosquito lot" to gate 3.(Possible to combine and streamline the last two sentences?)After about a half an hour at that spot, a third guy, not too bright, joined me and my young college-aged partner (first mention of a partner. confusing) to help us direct traffic, but he was no help at all and was just getting in the way. Shortly after the third guy showed up to help out, the old guy in the baseball cap on the Gator walked over to the intersection and said, "What the hell do I have 3 guys here for? I don't need three guys here." Then he looked at me and said, "You're doing a good job here. I'm gonna leave you here and take this guy and put him somewhere else."(paragraph may be too short. Lots of things that are kind of charged that make you sound less than sympathetic. Elucidation may alleviate this.)I stayed there with the young college-aged guy for the rest of the night directing people in and out of the parking lots, getting yelled at, getting flipped off, and getting threatened with being run over by people's cars and motorcycles. In general, it was an interesting and fun night that ended at 11PM. On my way up to the shed to sign out and head to my car, the old guy on the Gator, whose name I had by now learned is (was) Ray, rode up next to me and stopped and said, "You did good work out there tonight. Don't be surprised if I request to have you there again tomorrow night." I thanked him and said, "No problem. Wherever you need me to go."I got home and could barely walk because of standing on my feet in steel-toed boots on asphalt all day. I popped 4 Advil and drank a beer before going to bed. (You could really add some sensory elements here. Employ some of your poetic skills to pepper in descriptions of heat or glare or humidity or aches or twists. Remind me what month this was. How did the ground feel under your feet? What color was the asphalt? It doesn't all have to be right here, but like I said, peppered throughout.)On Tuesday, I got up and took my daughter, Kelsey to school again, did some job searching online, and submitted a couple of applications online before leaving for the fair. When I got to the fair, Ben loaded me up on the cart with the others and put me at what is known as the Camper T, a three-way intersection by the area where the exhibitors park their campers for fair week. I worked there along with an old retiree with diabetes and kidney problems who wasn't much of a helper. He actually disappeared to the parking HQ to pee and didn't get back for over a half an hour while I ran the intersection solo. After he got back and we had our dinner break and got back to the post, the traffic started getting backed up.(Be careful, this is drifting from a narrative to complaints. This essay is a great opportunity to illustrate the first hand experience of the recession and unemployment. Be careful how you want your narrator perceived.) Ben rode by on the cart and told me not to let traffic get backed up to the Main Gate, but I couldn't help it because it was backed up from the post I was at on Monday night all the way to me and around to the main gate. At 6PM, Ben came by again with a crew. One of the girls, Devin, jumped off and grabbed my walkie from me as Ben motioned for me to get into the cart. As I climbed into the cart, Ben said "Time for you to shine, Bud. Ray wants you behind the garage." Tex was riding shotgun and said, "Yeah, this guy that's up there right now is just fucking it up. He's letting 2 or 3 cars pass and then stopping traffic for pedestrians when they're still at the railroad tracks." Ben said, "You did one HELLuva job there last night, so Ray wants you back there tonight." (How can we make sure this isn't "I'm great and everyone around me is an idiot" to something more accurate? Can you give more insight into the sub par coworkers that would help the reader understand the bigger picture? Like, how does this affect Ben? What could have been going on with the diabetic old man?)I jumped out of the cart and relieved the problem guy at the intersection. The other guy at the intersection, John, another chaw-spitting country boy like Ben (could you replace chaw-spitting with something more complimentary, like "nice?" It just creates an off putting tone of superiority and ingratitude. Same goes for "problem guy" before this. I know you as a very open, friendly, nonjudgemental person, so I've got to alert you to this), told me to watch his back and let him know when cars were coming behind him. I said, "Okay" and proceeded to let him know when he had a couple cars coming from behind him. "Dang," he said, "someone who communicates. I like that. That other guy didn't say two words to me." I kept keeping (repetitive) him informed about oncoming traffic and directing vehicles out of my exit into the other lane. A driver stopped for directions and I gave him the best directions I knew to the main road. John let out a whistle and said, "Wow, you know the area? Them Elyria kids working parking don't know their way around at all." I told him that we had been coming to the fair and camping at nearby Findley State Park for years, so I at least knew my way around the main roads. After a while he asked, "So, how long have you been directing traffic?" I replied, "This is my second day. Ever. Anywhere." He shook his head and said, "Damn, somebody sure trained you good!" I said, "Actually, they just kind of threw me in the deep end and said 'swim'." (See, this longer exposition on the situation shows who you really are and how you see other. When you slow down and walk us through a scene, things came across as more true to who you are. I worked the rest of Tuesday night at what became (would become) my post for the rest of the fair, the 4-way intersection behind the garage, with a dull (not necessary), quiet kid who didn't say two words to me all night and let me do almost all of the work. We got backed up royally and ended up having cars circling around the lot trying to find parking spaces and drivers getting really pissed off. Ray came out after the rush was over and the additional lot across the tracks, the Mosquito lot, was opened and said, "You're doing a good job. You see why I wanted you here tonight." I said, "I wish I felt like Id done as well as I did last night. That backup was pretty bad." He said, "Hell, there wasn't anything you could've done about that. That wasn't your fault. They fucked us up over in parking saying they had lots of open spaces. I went over there and they were parking cars all the way up to the ditch. They didn't get the Mosquito lot open in time." Later on, one of the parking ladies, Shannon, who was shuttling parking kids to their posts rode by on her cart and told me that I was doing a great job and apologized for not getting the lot opened earlier. (Here, add some commentary. What does this say about the operation? About the previous time Ray criticized you? Better to have the reflection/critique of people and situations after you've given the exposition.)By Wednesday it was clear that this was my post. I relieved the off-duty police officer at 2:30PM and directed traffic alone until after dinner at 6PM when they gave me Tom, the diabetic kidney transplant recipient, as a partner for the night. The problem with Tom was that instead of directing people to where they were supposed to go, he kept asking people where they wanted to go, and we started getting backed up. I kept trying to keep him on task with statements like, "I just send them wherever I want them to go. You might get one or two people who argue, but for every one that argues, you get 15 or 20 that just follow your directions. It wasn't sinking in and finally Sue, Ray's wife, came out and talked to him and got him straightened out for the rest of the night. This is better than the first description of the encounter with Tom. It shows it's not just you who has a problem with him.)Wednesday night was fun (At first I'm excited for you because you sound into the job, but fun + life flight made me cringe.) because we had to divert traffic away from the Mosquito lot exit. A rodeo rider got trampled in the ring and had to be life-flighted out of the fair. The Mosquito lot was the only place big enough to land the helicopter. No matter what I said or did, though, people still wanted to exit that way and argued with me all night about wanting to go that way. (How did you handle the people? What did they say and what did you reply? We're you just directing with your arms and a whistle or were you close enough to talk to them?)I was getting into a rhythm for this job by Thursday and got partnered with Josh, whom I had met on the cart on Monday. Josh and I had a rhythm going and had a great conversation on Thursday night. That was probably the easiest night of them all. I nicknamed Josh "City Boy" in my mind because he had grown up and lived his whole life in Lakewood, Ohio until he was forced to move in with his parents in their retirement home in Wellington, Ohio earlier in the year. We had a great conversation about the culture shock and what nice people all the country boys we worked for were. I was familiar with this culture, having grown up in rural Suffield, Ohio and having gone to school with people who actually lived and worked on family-owned farms. Ben and John were chaw-spitting good ole boys who probably worked on one of the few remaining family-owned farms in the area. Ben drove a Trans Am with a Firebird painted on the hood. Tex was probably the most intelligent, well-spoken, and educated of all of them, but you could tell that he would be right at home at a barn dance in his white cowboy hat, orange rain duster, and riding boots. Ray was gruff and had most of his front teeth missing, but inside he was a kind man. City Boy and I talked about how the whole parking/traffic control/ticket taking crew was related. Ray and Sue were married, one or more of their daughters was driving parking kids to their posts on carts, John was married to one of the parking drivers, and Tex was also married to one of the daughters. We knew they were all related either by blood or by marriage, but they were all good folk and great people. They were all nice to all (all, all) of us on traffic and parking and made sure we had ample water and whatever else we needed. This paragraph is more gracious. I like the reflections on their kindness. Physical descriptions could have come earlier, when you first met each person.)During the afternoon on Thursday, Ray paid me the best compliment I could ever get. He was in the shed, and I was talking with Sue during my dinner break. I noticed that there was an ID card for my daughter, Kelsey, lying on the counter, and Sue asked where she had been. Kelsey had come to the fair with me to sign up for parking duty, but was told they couldn't use her because she was in school at Elyria High, and they would have had to limit her hours so far that she wouldn't have been useful. I was surprised they had made a nametag for her. We talked about all that, and Ray said, "Hell, if she's half as good a worker as him, then we're missing out." (What was your actual reply to them? Finish the scene.)I didn't work Friday because I was chaperoning the EHS Pioneer Marching Band to the Amherst football game. When I got back in on Saturday afternoon, though, Ray saw me as I was walking to my post and said, "I missed you last night. You hear that? I missed you." I said, "Thank you. And I'm sorry" and bounced to my post. (Reflect here on what that meant, both personally and in a bigger scope. What does this say about the trouble of finding people for seasonal/temporary/spot work, especially in the frame of this economy?)After my 15-minute break and dinner break, Ray rode by me on his Gator and said with a wink in his eye, "From now on, you don't get no breaks and no dinners. You eat and drink at your post from now on." I knew he meant that he wanted me to pay attention and take control of the intersection for the rest of the night. Ben and Tex rode past a little while after that, and I said (jokingly) to them, "Great, that's the reward I get for doing a good job. Ray doesn't want me to take any more breaks or dinners and wants me to eat and drink at my post from now on." Ben and Tex both laughed, and Ben said, "That's because you do one HELLuva job out here."Saturday night was a huge clusterfuck. The cars just kept coming from nowhere and everywhere. I was partnered with Devin again, an interesting girl who worked part-time at a gas station as well as helping out at the fair. She was okay to work with, but I could tell that she was running out of gas having worked double shifts at the fair all week as well as hours at the gas station. I ended up doing most of the directing. I had to keep the lane to the left of me clear all Saturday night for the shuttles to be able to pass. The shuttles (did you ever describe the shuttles? At the Ohio State Fair they're tractors with special wagons with seats. Let us know about these.) were running double and often. So the lanes to the south and west were clogged. In fact, the lane going across the tracks to the west, into the Mosquito lot and out to the Pitts Road exit was at a standstill for almost a half an hour at one point in time. I just sent people out in trickles to the south and the west and between shuttles sent them to the north.At the end of the night when the traffic jam finally broke, Tex got on the walkies, which could be heard by everyone in the park with a walkie, and said, "JR." I said, "What, Tex?" He said, "Very impressive." (How did this make you feel? You'd sounded pretty pessimistic before. How does it feel to have a boss understand his employees? Did you have any thoughts about others hearing this? Did you feel good about yourself? What about your partner who was worn out? Did she hold up or disappear?) Ray called all the traffic controllers into the tent for a meeting after the night was over. We were all certain we were going to get into trouble because one of the parking girls got clipped by a car, which was one of the things that held up the traffic going to Pitts Road. Ray stood in front of all of us and said, "First of all I wanna tell you guys that you all did one HELLuva job out there tonight. You witnessed something that I haven't seen in the ten years I've been doing this. I've never parked cars up in that hayfield in the back. Some of you guys are new and some of you guys have been here before and I don't think you've ever seen anything like that." One of the old guys I called "Pith Helmet Dude" because he wore a silver pith helmet the whole week, (I'd avoid the instances of nicknames. Just give the physical description so we can see the character too. The nicknames are coming off wrong. Maybe instead consider the benefits of the cowboy hat or the pith helmet. What had their choice of headwear say about their experience? Had you changed your apparel over the week to meet any challenges?) shook his head and said, "No, it's never been like this ever." Ray went on and said, "Consider the rest of the week practice for tonight. It's gonna get busy again tomorrow afternoon and evening, too. But you just gotta stay calm. The drivers are already agitated. You can't get agitated, too. You be patient, and they'll be patient." (I like this scene. We hear the characters. Consider more of this peppered throughout.)Sunday might have been busy, but in comparison to Saturday night, it was nothing. Oh, I had to keep track of traffic for another ambulance and for the Demolition Derby car parade that lined up in the Mosquito lot and left it unusable for most of the afternoon, but there were no shuttles running, so I didn't have to keep traffic from going one way or the other. I got partnered with another young college-age kid named DJ, and we worked pretty well together. (Example? Did he have initiative or experience? Did he catch on to your lead?)As I was leaving the fair on Sunday night, I made sure to track down Ray and talk to him. I went up to him and shook his hand saying, "It was a pleasure meeting you and working for you this week." Ray said, "Aren't you going in to watch the second demo derby?" I said, "I really appreciate the offer, but I just want to go home and sit on the couch with my family. I haven't seen much of them this week." He said, "That's what I want to do, too." I said, "Before you do, I want to say something to you. I didn't come here to impress anybody or to do anything but work hard and take home my paycheck." He said, "Well you did that." I said, "And you had no obligation to recognize my work, or compliment me, or praise me, or anything like that, and yet you did. I really appreciate that." He said, "I appreciate hard work, and you did what I needed done, and I could trust you back here behind the garage to run everything smoothly." I said, "Thank you. You know, I've been out of work since June 30. I was forced out of a job and haven't gotten back to work full-time yet. You and everyone else here, but especially you, have done more to boost my self-esteem and confidence in the last 6 days than anyone has in the last 6 years. I really appreciate that." He said, "Well, it takes a special person to do traffic control. It ain't easy, especially back here where you got cars coming at you from all 4 directions. And you stayed calm and didn't get agitated and impatient, and I could trust you. I appreciate that. If you get a job that lets you take a week off for the fair, you come back next summer." I said, "I'll do that. Maybe I'll bring my family with me. My daughter already signed up for parking, and my wife would be able to take tickets all day easily." He said, "We always appreciate good workers." I said, "Well, if they aren't good workers they have to answer to me, but that won't be a problem with them." We parted ways and I headed home. (Really beautiful scene. Well paced and balanced with action/speech, and reflection.)On my way out of the fairgrounds, I passed Tex who was working at the main gate. I extended my hand out the window and got a handslap five (high five?) from him as I went past, thus ending my tenure at the Lorain County Fair.I never intended to seek praise from the fair workers, and yet I got it anyway. I was accepted into a closed group of people who had known each other all their lives, even if it was only just for a week at the fair. I met a man who knew how to manage people and make them want to do a good job for him despite the fact that the job itself sucked ass and was hot and dusty and thankless. I worked my ass off. I went home hurting every night from standing and from repetitive arm motions. I popped a lot of Advil during the week for the pain. I laughed a lot. I had a great time. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.Why? Simple. I learned a lot about myself from this experience. I learned that what happened to me at the university was not because I was the lazy, sarcastic, undereducated person that I was made out to be by the few arrogant people who opposed me. I realized that despite a few flaws in how I handled things at the university, I wasn't the problem. I realized that I am better off not being there at all. It is trite and clich to say that all things happen for a reason, and we dont always know what that reason is, but I know there was a reason for my week at the fair. Since then, I have learned how to make opportunities for myself, how to scrap for every dime I need or want (I thought this was the other way around, that you took the job for the money, not that you learned about getting the money from anything,particular on this job.), how to fight for what Im entitled to (Did you have to fight for something? I thought in this job you went with the flow, did an outstanding job with whatever you were handed, and were surprisingly rewarded for the flexibility and dependability), and how stand up for myself. Those are some pretty big lessons to learn in such a short time. These particular lessons seem more apropos for your years after they forced you out of Ashland which led you to jobs like the fair position, like the fair job was a significant experience, important part of the mosaic you've been piecing together. I'm not sure I'm being clear here. I just know I always rich through my endings and sometimes my sequence of thoughts gets a little inverted. What do you think? Final comments. Great material. I'd go back and think about where you could add some balancing action and dialogue, perhaps look for places where you've just listed who was there and what lot/intersection you were at, cut those out, and enrich the more meaty events. Good luck.