Concrete Strike

In Seattle right now and for the past few weeks, all the major concrete suppliers have been shut down by a strike on the part of union drivers, engineers, and machinists. I support their efforts to improve salaries and working conditions, but it’s a drag that their job action has put the brakes on our studio project; we’re dead in the water until they go back to work and probably two weeks beyond that before the building’s slab can be poured.

I’m trying to be philosophical about the delay; there’s nothing to be done, so we may as well not stress out about the hold-up. I’m pretending I’m in Italy or France—somewhere where labor unions can shut down the whole country—I’ll just kick back with a glass of red wine until it all blows over.

But it’s hard not to get impatient, especially when we had hoped to be well into framing up the structure by now.

And yet, I realize that such impatience is entirely something I’m doing to myself. The only schedule for this project is one we’ve invented; as a result, I ought to be able to let it go.

I could take this as an object lesson in perspective: in the long run, will it really make any difference whether we get the building done in September, October, or even next Spring?

And shouldn’t I just be grateful I’m in the luxurious position of being able to afford this project at all?

If I can step outside of my own concerns, I see there’s something really apt about a delay in the concrete phase of the project. After all, the foundation of our building will presumably be its longest-lasting feature. Isn’t it appropriate that this is the slowest component of its creation?

One day, I’m sure I'll look back on this delay as a minor speedbump on the road to our building’s completion—a speedbump made from sand, gravel, and cement.