Do the right thing, or keep your job?

In the nineteen forties, some people did horrific things for reasons of self preservation. To kept their jobs (and not be jailed themselves) they murdered others because orders. I'm sure it happened in the fifties and sixties too, but it certainly happened on large scale just prior. In the Nuremberg trials, "I was just doing my job" didn't really help defendants. Virtue was deemed more important than pay checks and to prove that form, the victors murdered their captured.

Richard asked me to make a legal determination about a flood plane issue and send to a bank. I told him that I wasn't allowed to and thus didn't want to adopt his prescribed text. He flew off the handle and hung up the phone. The next day he mentioned they'd hired an accountant and I knew I was out. I took the job knowing I'd get fired eventually, I knew it wasn't a long term deal. Now that his JV team can finish it, they don't really need me anymore. The hard stuff is done.

Change--even if obviously better--was not acceptable because the original authors looked imperfect. Maybe I should have done more to make them look better instead of thinking that quality was so important. The electrical transformer is inside the nursery, the irrigation pipes under the concrete have unions but no sleeves, and the septic aerator is right beside the loading door. Sigh. Growth and change requires one to admit that they were previously wrong, to admit that somebody else's thought was better. Learning is violent.

In small town California, there is significant protection of the existing class. To hire an outsider requires that no local be capable. Mechanical engineers are welcomed because Ukiah doesn't really produce those. Plumbers, however, are in plenty. And hiring a plumber that isn't from here is a reckless decision, as it regards social strata.

If there is even one architectural photographer in town, almost always the architect will only hire them exclusively, as seeing each other (in the only town bar) is never awkward or embarrassing. True with family too, if there is a photographer in the family we never get the job. Because, I'm learning, quality doesn't really matter like social strata.

Its hard to compete in the big city with worthy competition featuring big investments. To sell a product in big cities, to me it seems integrity and high professional order is a very base minimum requirement. Decency, love, respect...an aura that consistent honourable behaviour provides. These are minimum requirements to even get past the secretary once. Then one needs a current and professional product combined with prices only possible through highly developed efficiency. In the small town, one needs be the only engineer around and then devour any competition via slander and dirty bids.

To keep on, best turn a blind eye to another's willing embrace of mediocrity. I mean, we weren't building a library, some mediocrity for price is expected, and some quasi-legal grift. Sometimes there is a need to hire a nephew, even if he's clearly not the best candidate.

In the end, I have opinions of small towns. Hiring the best doesn't matter like being able to say hello to Ken in the bar. There is no fussing about him over-billing by 15 thousand bucks. My job was to build the spoils and keep shut, certainly not to take a part. I got him pretty good, which is really why the gig needed to end.

Back in the van. Freedom from all obligations. We owe no one money, we have a bunch more PMs, and no one can demand anything from us. Free agents. We even had take-out delivered to a hotel. That's pretty fancy imo, less than 1% of the population has been able to do that lately. We finally shoot again tomorrow, now we're set up in a cute little motel for two nights in the heart of wine country. Our goal is to break even through the winter, with this account we certainly have a chance. Lets all hope it goes really well.

Each day is a whole new lifetime and full of mystery. Everything is an adventure, weeks seem endless and new doors open all around. Granted the ones we've seen lately are all for minimum wage jobs at big box retail, but those signs here are everywhere. Its inconvenient that local rent starts at $1500, but then, when we sit, we don't work. We did 1/3 of the photography last year compared to the years we were not safely in the penthouse every night.

We are talking about heading to Kentucky, via Mardi Gras. Not sure about the mechanics, we're going to try a round of sales in the big city of San Fransisco here after this little photo-venture with kitchens and affluence. I have such a fancy hair-cut. From a men's club in the east Bay, I thought I was going to be the only white guy all day but then some carrot top came in. Great time. Love locals.

I really do prefer to hang out with the working class. The guys in the photos were all so consistently wonderful and honest, they did really try and do their best and I would recommend them to the world. They are each in a place where doing good work means keeping their job, it seems so opposite the upper echelons of white power.

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