It was not until we have succeeded in completing the second level flooring, which took at least thirty able-bodied men and twenty-four long hours of grueling toil to accomplish, that I began to consider finding an alternative source of income. It was not that I no longer needed a job (for having any employment is better than having none at all) nor that I no longer enjoy it (for physical toil has its advantages)—it is only that I sense my services are no longer—er—necessary. The usual manual labours that has previously kept me occupied have quickly disappeared since most of the work now consist that of which only skilled workers are allowed and are capable of performing. Although I still am entrusted with the timekeeping and supervision of the worker's daily attendance and professional conduct, I am finding it increasingly tedious. For what is there for a timekeeper to do but watch the hands of a clock when the owner herself does most of the clock-watching anyway? And what is there to supervise when that is already conveniently done by the foreman?

Thus, I have determined to find a new employment without delay—for another month of such dullness would be too unbearable. Furthermore, employment in a construction site does not leave much room for professional growth. I hastened therefore to search for available openings in a place where I will most likely to, as it were, hook a fat fish—the Internet. After hours of exhaustive searching and much decision-making (for I have yet to decide then what trade I would like myself to be a part thereof)—I have struck upon a handful of promising leads—and wasted no time in writing a concise letter to their respective companies stating my profound and earnest interest for the job positions which they necessitate. It was then only a matter of waiting for their appropriate replies; which may consist of a request, if any, for a personal interview—an encouraging first step in being considered for employment, if all goes well.

Hence, I waited (something which I gravely despise) and spent my remaining time in the construction site finding how to best pass it so as to avoid boredom. It was then, during my idle rounds, that I noticed the iron nails used for construction are fast becoming scarce—for the carpenters must need it in assembling anew the intricate wooden scaffolding that would support the third level flooring, the construction of which was currently underway. Yet, there are piles of hundreds of wooden planks, each studded with numerous iron nails, from the deconstructed scaffoldings of the second-level flooring, lying uselessly about on the muddy ground. Finding that no one has troubled himself with this task and finding that I have nothing better to do—I willingly threw myself upon it.

This task requires two steps, which I will describe in detail (as to why—ask me not for I only desire to write without considering its purpose). First, one would need to carefully pull each iron nail individually from the wooden plank, which could contain numerous nails embedded along its body, and deposit them in a container. Step two would require one to straighten the bent and twisted nail by lying it upon a hard wood and beating it straight with a hammer. It would sound as if it were boring and repetitive, and indeed it may be for no worker has yet to pursue the task as diligently as I, yet—I find there is something curiously addictive about it. I cannot fully explain it and I myself find it rather peculiar. Still, I will endeavour to clarify.

A bent nail is a hard-headed thing—unrelenting to any supplication other than that of a hammer. And if you beat at it incautiously—it would twist against your fingers with such force as to inflict a painful contusion or an open wound. Indeed, my fingers have suffered numerous injury in this manner. However, if you carefully and skillfully lay it down upon a firm wood, and beat it down—gently at first—and, as you feel its stern resoluteness give way, one can hammer it down easily until it is straightened out. Thus, having conquered an adamant nail—one can move on to the next. It is a delicate and vital task which, if no one dares to occupy, would leave the carpenters with nothing to do but engage themselves in silly business—such as annoying the unfortunate females who happen to pass the site with their vulgar whistlings and howlings—when the stock of iron nails has ran out.