Damn it.
I was kinda having a rough day: turns out that I had to nearly remove everything I did yesterday due to a misunderstanding or miscommunication or something. I was sure that my idea of how the home runs needed to be run was perfectly fine, but Jay thought otherwise and it just couldn't work. When I told him I'd already cut the runs too short, Jay closed his eyes and counted to ten. Then he went to twenty, then thirty. Then he walked away. No bueno. Gwynne found out and he was a little frustrated, he told me it was a "rookie mistake"...ouch. :(
It wound up being mostly okay, I only had to replace two home runs and at 15 feet each (even though it was iso-ground MC) that's really not all that bad. The rest I just reshuffled and relabeled, and it was okay. Since I was able to avoid immense fuck-up loss, Jay and I went to the food court for lunch.
It's not actually forbidden to go to the food court onsite, but it's frowned upon. A Strip casino like the Venetian is, for the most part, filled to the brim with tourists who don't want to have to look at dirty construction workers eating near them. But Jay and I cleaned up and took off anything identifying us as electricians (hardhats and such) and as we walked in we made jokes about the possibility of meeting one of the higher-ups in there as we were trying so hard to be all sneaky-like.
We got our food (Panda Express is expensive in casinos!) and scanned the seating area, found an empty table not to close to anyone else, and I said with confidence, "No management will find us here, haha!" Then Jay grinned and said through his plastic smile, "Oh wow, speak of the devil..." I turned around and saw Henry and Mike waving from two tables away. I waved back and smiled...there was no use in hiding or acting ridiculous, we'd been caught by both a general foreman and a project manager and that's all there was to it.
I'll just say that we ate quickly and made damn certain we left early so there was no speculation about the possibility of us being late back to our work area.
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