Down With Dumpster Divers!
They say one person’s trash is another person’s treasure. While that might be true, I’m tired of being the guy bringing riches to others.
I’m all for recycling, re-using and re-purposing, but gosh, am I sick and tired of the garbage collectors patrolling my neighborhood. I’m not talking about the guys in the orange jumpsuits who get paid to pick through trash, I’m speaking of the folks who do it for fun…or hobby…or money.
Seeing people rummage through garbage bins in the New York area is commonplace. In fact, I think there was a time when I was 16 that I might have even partaken in the dirty pastime. But now, as an adult homeowner, I can no longer condone the activity.
The worst night is Tuesday. Our ‘special’ sanitation is picked upon Wednesday morning. This is the day that all large items (furniture, mattresses, wood piles, TVs, etc.) are picked up. Since garbage is placed on the curb in the evening, our block is bustling with dumpster divers from 8 p.m. to 8 a.m. That means you hear the idling engine of beaten-up vans, the squeaky brakes of old trucks and the clanking of junk through all hours of the night. They troll up and down each block, crawling along at 5 MPH so they can scan the curb. Don’t these rogue garbage men realize they are behaving like child predators or serial killers?
I tell myself that these might be people in need; families that need the items or the money they yield. If that’s the case, I’d rather just cut them a check for $20 and send it their way.
These garbage collectors could be kidnappers – or savors of salvation. Whatever they are, I wish they’d skip my neighborhood. Or at least help me drag my crap to the curb!
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My grandparents use to do this to make ends meet in the city of Chicago. Then they’d fix up the furniture, sewing machines, lawn mowers, etc, and resell them at the flea market. Be careful who you’re criticizing here. My grandparents grew up in the depression and were a middle class family in the city of Chicago but as they aged, my grandfather couldn’t work construction after many years as a cement mason and contracting emphasema from laying concrete before there were OHSA standards and laws against not protecting workers. He was the hardest working man and my grandmother was the hardest working women you would ever meet. They took pride in being able to recycle what rich people threw away and relished in being able to make good of others junk. I am very proud to come from such a wonderful family and proud to say that they did this as it speaks to their creativity, their resourcefulness, and pride to do something with nothing as their immigrant parents did when arriving from Poland at the turn of the century
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amyjodeb said this on December 3, 2009 10:00 pm
Looks like we found the exception to the rule! Your family can pick up my junk any time! (Just be quiet about it.)
Andrew G.R. said this on December 3, 2009 10:48 pm
Hey Andrew, lighten up! If you really wanna know about scrounging in the trash, it was my pre-pubescent hobby. I found old Army patches, Penthouses, etc. My immunities must be really great, ‘cause I loved to go thru the local MDs garbage, and play with old needles, hypodermics, test tubes and the like. I suppose I wanted a chemistry set, but with my singular lack of ability, I wouldn’t have known what to do with it anyway. So garbage was grand!
Victor Kipling said this on December 6, 2009 11:24 am