Typical Day
Carver Pines stands in front of his open fridge, trying to decide what to make for breakfast this morning. He idly scratches his stomach. "Cereal or eggs? Had cereal yesterday. Let's go nuts," he yawns.
He picks out a couple eggs and grabs the bacon. He's going to go all out. Carver fries up his breakfast in his trusty eight-inch skillet, which may or may not be 100% clean. Ah, the advantages of living alone. Nobody to bug him about washing dishes.
He toasts a couple slices of bread while the eggs are cooking, slathering one with strawberry jam. When the eggs are done, he sits at his kitchen table, which he made in his garage from some scraps that his boss let him have. They were great pieces of wood—solid pine—but they didn't fit the dimensions of anything they made at the shop, so Carver got them. He left the table unfinished, save for a fine sanding. That's how he likes his furniture. His goal is to eventually build a whole dining set of natural, unfinished furniture.
By 8:00AM, Carver has finished breakfast and left the pan on the stove to wash later. Maybe. He puts on a t-shirt and cargo shorts and slips on his well-worn sneakers. After packing a sandwich for lunch, with chips and a soda, he heads out the door for the short commute to Granddad's Furniture, where he works as a furniture builder.
The smell of fresh wood and sawdust greet him at the factory door, and he smiles. The sound of air drills and table saws are like music to his ears. He punches the clock and spots Dmitry Andropov loading furniture into one of the delivery trucks.
"Mornin', Dmitry," Carver shouts with a wave.
"Hello, Carver," the older man replies.
Carver loves his Russian accent, and he admires how the sturdy man handles the furniture with ease. Hopefully he'll be that strong when he's in his sixties, too.
Carver deposits his lunch bag in the break room and heads to his work area. The work order waiting for him calls for six blanket chests. Carver smiles again. This will take all day, but it involves enough different processes to keep it interesting.
After three years of working as an assembler and finisher at another factory, Carver was thrilled to land a job at Granddad's. It only pays twelve dollars an hour, but he gets to really practice, hone, and expand his furniture-building skills.
He seems to learn something new every month, which fits right into his plan to open his own shop someday.
Granddad's Furniture specializes in simple but elegant pieces reminiscent of Shaker and Colonial furniture. The blanket chests Carver'll be building look plain, but his work involves a lot of precision. The lid is a solid piece of pine, but the sides will be individual slats, cut tongue-and-groove to join at the corners.
Carver loads a forklift with the lumber he'll need and drives it over to his work area. After unloading it and returning the forklift, he sets to work measuring and marking the wood. He spends the rest of the morning cutting pieces down to size and sanding the edges of the lid pieces so that they're rounded.
12:00PM rolls around, and Carver realizes how hungry he is. He heads to the break room, where Sandy Tableaux is already munching on a bowl of...something. Carver grabs his lunch bag and sits at her table.
"What's that?" Carver asks, not even trying to sound polite about it.
Sandy laughs. "It's a radical new concept called 'healthy eating.' Bean sprouts and baked chicken, tossed with a vinaigrette. Don't give me that look. It's good."
"I'll stick with human food, thank you," Carver says as he lifts the top slice of bread from his ham and cheese sandwich so that he can add some potato chips. He takes a big, crunchy bite as Sandy shakes her head.
"You coming out to McCobb's tonight? City is playing," Sandy asks, referring to the Orlando City soccer team. McCobb's Grill is probably the only place in town—maybe all of Mississippi—that dedicates more than one screen to Major League Soccer. Sandy is a big fan of Orlando City and watches most of their games there.
"Wouldn't miss it," Carver says. He's not much of a soccer fan, but McCobb's serves amazing wings. Plus, it gets him out of the house. "First I gotta knock out these blanket chests, though."
"And I'll be finishing them. Boss wants a nice, light stain. Keep it natural-looking."
Carver gives her a thumbs-up. "Good choice."
They finish lunch and head back to work. Carver can spend the afternoon in assembly mode, now that most of the pieces are cut and ready. He might need to trim a few things here and there, but it's mostly easy, fun work now.
At 6:00PM, Carver heads home for a shower and change of clothes. Freshened up, he drives over to McCobb's Grill on Eames Street. Sandy is already there wearing Orlando purple, working her way through a bowl of chips and salsa.
Three hours and one whole goal later, Carver bids farewell to his friend and drives home. Today was a long day, and he feels the fatigue. Bed sounds really good right about now. He catches Jimmy Fallon's opening monologue and calls it a night. As he drifts off, he hopes he can remember to ask his boss when he can start learning to make chairs, so he can make some to go with his kitchen table.