Baaaacon

The managing partner in my firm was appointed to the Mayor's Advisory Commission on Construction Industry Diversity a few months ago. It's a group of very impressive people who have come together to try to figure out why a city with over 50% of our population made up of minorities can't get it together to have even 10% represented on construction project workforces. I am lucky enough to be encouraged to follow my boss to these meetings and learn and listen and meet people. Now I go when he is unable to, which was the case this morning. The meeting was at the Laborer's Local 332, which is in North Philadelphia. I was able to use the *awesome* GPS/map function on my iPhone to find my way there and got to enjoy the view of the Broad Street Run as I took Broad Street all the way down. So I arrive at the building, and with most of the union buildings I've been to it's pretty nondescript and unwelcoming  (save the Sheet Metal Union which has a pretty great presence), and the people are the most welcoming and helpful I've ever encountered. I don't know what it is with the trade unions - overlook all of the issues Philadelphia has with labor unions - the people that work there, or are waiting for work there, have been hands down the most polite, friendly and helpful bunch I've encountered. They've been pressed to be, because each union is labyrinthian in it's layout, and I usually end up being that ditzy white girl who can't get the door to work, or find the conference room and need some serious assistance. 

Anyway. This morning I arrive at Local 332 for the meeting, and get buzzed through three doors into a maze of corridors. I don't know which way to go, and there is no one there to help. I notice the smell of bacon in the air, and remember what the Boss said last night when he asked me to go in his place ("wait til you see the food!") and followed the scent. I was early (I'm always early) and I entered a conference room that smelled so strongly of bacon I was nearly faint. Now, I don't eat meat, but I LOVE the smell of bacon. It's heaven. I'd wear the perfume. So for me to be overwhelmed by the smell of bacon means it's got to be strong. Sure enough, in a small alcove in the conference room was a kitchen. There were two people, a man and a woman, working in there. They were piling food up as though there was a wedding buffet coming. Sausage (links and patties), bacon, grits, eggs, potatoes and biscuits. A huge bowl of fruit salad and bottles and bottles of juice and soda. Did I mention that this Committee is made up of 8 people? And a few usually don't make it to the meetings? Yeah. There were 5 of us at the table, and enough food for easily 20. Then I had a dilemma. I don't eat meat and the eggs were (I'm sorry nice wonderful lady who cooked them) runny. But I was able to see how happy this big warm breakfast made people, and how much the woman who made the breakfast loved serving it up, and the people who work in the union sneaking in and being handed plates piled high with food. 

So that's how my day started. It's a good way to start the day; with someone proudly cooking you a breakfast that will kill you, even if you don't eat it.