Competent males......

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Guys in their early twenties are supposed to work hard and be good at "mechanical stuff"; at least, that is what everyone tells me. As a young man in my early twenties, I am supposed to go out and work my butt off for 12 hours a day at some job I hate so I can save up alot of money and I can live the "American Dream/Nightmare." I have to build for the future and sacrifice the present in order to "have things." As opposed to the constant dogged criticism of my work ethic, I only go out and labor until I have completed whatever task is at hand, and then I go home and resume my leisure pursuits. This attitude has brought me into direct conflict with my former supervisors in the Army and my bosses I had when I was doing structural steelwork for a few months. These extremely dexterous and authoritarian men demand that all individual pursuits are subordinated to their desires, and if one can slavishly toil hard enough and long enough, he will be rewarded with some "green."

The Ironwork supervisors would tell me that I had to volunteer to work overtime every day or I would be let go; and these demands on my time were unacceptable. My problem is such: Even if I wanted to work 60 hours a week and sock away money like nobody's business, I would be unable to. I have extremely poor mid-range and fine motor skills, to the point where I am unable to function in most types of employment. It is like there is a disconnect between my brain and hands, to the point where I have a hard time picking things up of a table or transfering things from one hand to the other. I am able to type fine or play the piano fine enough. The more complicated things with larger objects, like driving a nail, working with power tools, or tying knots befuddle me. What these "selective struggles" stem from is the fact that if I am not interested in something, I am going to put no effort towards it. If something is not "on my list", I won't give two s**ts about it and I won't even try. But even if I want to learn some things like how to hang drywall, my brain is just incapable of learning these functional trade skills, much to the dismay of many.

I also had huge problems getting along with co-workers. The problem was that we had nothing in common. To quite Wittgenstein, "I felt wounded by the crudness of their company." I would try and have a conversation with my co-workers, but we just had nothing to talk about, even with ones in my age range. They were only concerned about work-related stuff, or alcohol, or girls. I have poor verbal skills, an odd prosody, and poor eye-contact, so my attempts to relate were confounded and they thought that I was aloof and I did not want to be their friend. After a couple days, they were right in sensing that I didn't want to be there, so I was soon to be fired. Coupled with the fact that I have no mechanical, technical, or social skills, it was no surprise that I was booted from the Special Operations Tactical team and I was short lived as an apprentice Structural Steel Worker. As an apprentice, I was fired from 4 companies over the course of six weeks and I just stopped paying my union dues or making any effort to keep looking for work.

In the summer of 2005, I finished my Army AIT training and I went to my reserve unit. At that time I had a fleeting boost of self-confidence from becoming an actual Soldier so I had a renewed burst of determination to thrive in society(It was a false hope.) My parents were again demanding that I get a job, and I tripped and fell into the Helmets to Hardhats program. One thing led to another and soon I was starting out as an apprentice Ironworker. Prior to this, I had had no experience with any sort of construction. And I was about the worst Ironworker in the history of Ironwork. My Foremen told me that I would never be good at Ironwork and I should just quit and not waste money paying union dues. They told me that I was being fired because I did not look motivated and I wasn't working at a fast enough pace(I had not yet been DXed and I thought I was working as hard as I could!) I figured that they were just trying to motivate me so I stuck around for a few more weeks, getting fired two more times before I just threw in the towel. The work was so hard, complex, and exhausting that I knew I was going to suck at it. All it was was working with tools for eight hours a day, and those eight hours felt like 16 hours. I prayed for rain. I began to dread getting up every morning and all I did was sleep when I was at home. I began to go back into that cycle of depression and overeating. It was so stressful to have to keep meeting new guys and go to new worksites and have to try and appear competent. I fumbled around with the tools that were far beyond my ability to utilize. I was unable to satisfactorally do any of the work, and my coworkers made fun of my ineptitude mercilessly, calling me "little girl", and such things. I did not understand their humor or when they were trying to haze me or be my friend. Despite my parents' stringent demands that I keep going back to Ironwork, Eventually I had enough and stopped calling the Union center for jobs. I was a really bad Ironworker, but I should have been good at it because guys in their twenties are supposed to thrive at jobs like that. But not me.

My parents couldn't get too upset that I had failed again. A couple weeks after my last day as an Ironworker, my reserve unit got called up and we were off to Iraq.

In Iraq, I spent a couple of the worst weeks of my life assigned to the unit Motor Pool. It was an absolute disaster until mercifully I was sent back to headquarters. The Motor Pool sergeants would use me as entertainment: They would stand around and laugh for hours as I would try and remove the Battery cover from the HMMWV. Literally, it would take me an hour to unscrew four nuts with a wrench. Those dickholes would come to me and say, "Did you get it yet." Those guys would watch my awkward attempts to change the oil and I could never figure out which container was for which fluid. When I look into an engine, all I see are "Parts." I don't have the slightest idea of what any of these "Parts," tanks, or wires might actually be for. Good luck with me actually being able to fix anything. It was miserable having to stand around all day and do engines. I hate working on cars or machines and I would rather castrate myself and pull out my fingernails with pliers than ever have to touch a socket wrench again.

So now in 2009, I play from my strengths and the only manual labor I do anymore is cut grass for a couple of WWII veterans who live in my neighborhood for free(I have an altruistic streak.)
I went to his house with my mower and weed eater and set to work. Unfortunately, there was a whole crew of guys there installing siding on his house. I still had to cut his grass since I already told him that I would be there so I began to work as gingerly as possible in order to stay away from the siding crew. These were the kind of guys who were born with a wrench in their hands.

I started mowing his yard, and one of the siding guys came up to me and told me that I was blowing grass on his pile of siding. I have a 36"" mower that blows the grass clumps to the side. So I said, "Fine." and I made my best effort to not blow grass on his precious siding.

Apparently I was still blowing grass on his siding. I was warned more harshly not to blow grass, so I decided that I would just come back later. But just as I was about to put the mower back up on the trailer, the engine died and I had to suffer the embarassment of having those guys check my engine, even though my father had a whole toolbox of tools in my dad's truck.

"Rick": What do you want?

Me: Uh, excuse me guys, my mower just died.

Rick; What do you mean it "died"

Me, trying to sound as competent as possible: Well, it was running one second, and then the next second it was no longer running.

Rick: Is there gas in the tank.

Me: Of course there is gas in the tank.(This is the one maintenance function I can perform on my own.) Could you guys just please take a look at it.

Rick: Oh all right(looking at me like the stupidest man he has ever met. )

So it turned out that the mower had run out of oil. Not gas, but oil. Why does a machine need two different types of petroleum?

Rick: You need to change the oil. You'll be lucky if the engine doesn't lock up for good.

Me: Oh okay, I said, trying to salvage any measure of self-respect. I pushed the mower back up onto the trailer and slunk away, and my dad put more oil in the mower later on.

I'm sure Rick and his buds all went to the bar that night and made fun of me for hours over many rounds of beer. They probably can't believe that I am actually able to speak and feed myself and drive a vehicle. They can't wait to talk about me while they are making love to their hot girlfriends and to all of the guys at the Association of Competent Males(Excuse the dangling participle.) Those rugged siding workers will tell their girlfriends, "I am so much more dexterous and competent than this guy we ran into today. He couldn't even change the oil in his mower. I change the oil in my car every 3000 miles. I am an Authoritarian man and I used to play Football in High School." Then they have sex like bunnies

I think back to when I nailed myself to the table in eighth-grade woodshop.

Great insight into an issue that effects many of us. I read all of it and wish I could make a more insightful post that doesn't sound like generic "thanks for posting" drivil but I have a deadline to complete and shouldn't even be on WP right now!

Actually, what they NOW call the "American dream" is/was anything BUT! It went from the idea of being independent, having your own bussiness, etc.... to buying a home ON DEBT and having it foreclosed!



That is true of MOST jobs. It is the non material version of the expression of the concept akin to what feminists say about males with big cars, etc... BTW people, the SAME is true of WOMEN!

Hi, Brusilov. I'm sorry you had such a demoralizing experience with those siding guys. They probably didn't give you a second thought after you left, and you shouldn't worry about what they think of you, either.

There's a lot more to being a "competent male" than being good with tools. My husband is a klutz with tools and has regular battles with our mower. Like you, he also struggled in eighth grade woodshop- he was the only student in the class to fail, despite coming from a family of skilled tradesman.

However, he's an exceptional husband and father and a highly valued professional in a field not requiring manual skills. He is most certainly a "competent male."

You are clearly intelligent and self-aware and you write very well. Please don't judge yourself by the things you AREN'T good at, and continue to focus on the things that you CAN do well. Keep playing to your strengths and stop being so hard on yourself. Not all woman are attracted to men with manual skills- some of us prefer men who are "competent" with their intellects, ok?

Jenny

I used to be similar to you with mechanical things. It's a real dent to your self-esteem. However, I've found that I've got much, much better at practical things over time. And still improving now, in my 40s.

This may be of use to you, or it may not, but for me the key is that I perform much worse when others are around, specifically if they are watching. Worst of all, if they are watching critically, just looking for the slghtest hesitancy so they can feel good about themselves by downgrading the efforts of another. There really are a lot of people who do this, possibly to overcome their own insecurities. Even slicing a loaf of bread would become a disaster under the ever watchful beady eye of my mother-in-law, for example! Yet I can manage it fine when not having to perform to public standards.

My physical DIY work is kept for private and although not very good, I've found I'm a lot better than I believed I was when being hounded by those cruel types you describe. Although I have read that "struggling with something when others are watching" is as aspect of introversion, I believe the problem is with them, not you.

In those rare cases when I see someone struggling with something I can do (computing or music are about the only 2 areas), I actually feel quite embarrassed for them and do not try and draw attention to them. Sometimes I'll offer help, but others I won't. Not because I like to see people struggle, but fear of upsetting them by implying that they are incompetent. I don't really understand the mind set of someone who is actively trying to 'phaze' someone else into struggling.

Unfortunately even if you did get a career out of the type of work you've managed so far, it sounds like you will struggle at at, and be totally miserable as a result. If ever you though about writing an autobiography, you've got the first chapter done already Your style is very readable and contains good insight. AS autobiographies are in vogue, so maybe there's something you could try? (writing is hard work, but at least you don't have to work with sweaty men to do it)

Competance is overrated, anyway. Human's actually excel at failure, being incompetent, ignorant, creating inefficient systems that fail, anti-drug campaigns that increase drug use and regularly replacing their absurd views of the universe with ever more absurd theories and imaginings.

Brusilov, you live in a very capitalistic society, it's just what you can expect. Move to Europe instead.

Brusilov, I too have had similar experiences, I am not mechanical at all. The measure of a man seems to rely on his visual-spatial skills. Driving or mechanical things. My dad is a mechanical engineer, but I didn't seem to get his gene for mechanical ability.

Realize that some of these guys who work in the trades are barely literate, so they feel they have to make fun of others for their lack of practical skills.

Blue collar jobs can be rough in terms of getting along. You'll either need to get a degree, get into office work (usually better but not always) or learn to fake that kind of humor and comradery at least a little bit. I also felt that learning blue collar socialization required another layer of specialization and attention to the rules. I can fake it, just not as well.

Cubicle culture can be good for an aspie imo as quite often you dont have much contact with anyone at all. People will check to see if something is done now and again but quite a bit of the contact is handled via email. If you opt out of lunch with others, you can spend quite a bit of time on your own.

I have often felt this exact way. I call it a paradox, I can't work a blue-collar job but I believe I could probably get a degree in psychology and do research or lecture, although this might be an unobtainable goal for me.

Right now I can't work because I receive disability health benefits, and I lose them if I am able to work. I agree with your idea about working in an office, I don't have any experience with this, but it seems it would be a haven for an ASD person.

My advice for ASD people is not to work in a grocery store. I worked as a cashier and produce clerk for 2 years and it was hell. Grocery stores are a sh** hole of hostility and petty bickering.

Lately, I've been researching grant writing. People employed in the career write grant proposals for companies, and work alone most of the time. It would be a good job for those with ASDs who have good verbal skills.

The army is a violent institution.

Now that's done it, you've got me started on the American Dream / Work Ethic...........

I don't know why anybody swallows that cruel myth, that a man's not a real man unless he pulls his guts out every day in the hope of getting ahead of everybody else. But economic success isn't about hard work. It's about having no conscience, about nobbling the competition, cheating without getting caught, gambling, exploiting, and faking. And for the vast majority who tread that road, it ends in failure.

The worldly race may riches chase
And riches still may fly them
And though at last they catch them fast
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them
(Robert Burns)

You were right, Brusilov - and those other dudes were wrong. Let 'em feel smug and superior, they'll most likely get what they deserve in the fullness of time.

Brusilov,

The twenties are the toughest decade of a guy's life, because we're trying to figure out where we fit and all. It's a rough decade at best. No one feels particularly competent. Some try and fake it. Like whistling in the dark.

The trick is - to not get suckered into the trap of comparing oneself to the other chaps. That is an invitation into the rat race. There are no winners there. We got to find what it is we, ourselves, uniquely like. Where one's individual talent is.

We need to each craft our own lives.

Give yourself a break, Compadre. You've managed to hang on this long. It does get better - every decade after is better than the one before.


.

"The trick is - to not get suckered into the trap of comparing oneself to the other chaps. That is an invitation into the rat race. There are no winners there. We got to find what it is we, ourselves, uniquely like."

very well said.

Hi Mate - feel for you.

I'm an aspie sounds like you have MF Austim yeah?

I am 30ish now any only really just started learning about mechanical stuff.

It is such a blokey thing but until recently I had no idea why.

My journey started with forfilling a life time wish of buying an old car and restoring it and getting it on the road, I used my AS to push myself the entire way.

If you Can i would really recomend that you find something mechanical that takes your eye to restore. An older car, Boat or Motor bike. Mechanical stuff isn't hard at all but the people in the know keep the info very close to the chest because they know if everyone else knew they'd be out of a job.

Currently I have a 1974 GM (not saying which) with a 202 trimatic with a short throat stromberg trimatic... I am building her into a stroked 308 (355) Yella Terra heads, massive trimatic, big quad Holleys... mmm holleys.

working on cars does sound hard, ive never done it either and would probably be bored out of my skull doing so

DEFINITELY.

I have a hard time working with most people. They all seem to be defective and want to take their crap out on someone else, and I cannot accomodate it. Also, unless someone is very easy to be with, I just feel like a third wheel and want to leave.