BB Grey–musings

What Makes Me Nervous? Oh, Just the End of the World as We Know It

As a construction business owner with a few degrees under my hardhat, I’m no stranger to stress. But when I read headlines screaming, “DOW headed for worst April since the Great Depression—yes, that 1932 debacle, not the Great Recession we all barely survived,” my stomach does a somersault that’d make an Olympic gymnast jealous. What makes me nervous? One word: uncertainty.

Look, I get that the market hates uncertainty—it’s like a toddler throwing a tantrum when you move its sippy cup. But here’s the raw truth: I don’t like uncertainty either. When I’m the one stirring the pot, creating controlled chaos on a job site, I can handle it. I’ve got my blueprints, my crew, and a thermos of coffee strong enough to wake a coma patient. But when the universe decides to toss a curveball like “Great Depression 2.0,” my nerves start tap-dancing on a tightrope.

Life’s already a maze of deadlines, supply chain hiccups, and clients who think “budget” is a suggestion. Do we really need the threat of an economic apocalypse to spice things up? I mean, come on—nobody asked for this plot twist. Sure, life’s full of surprises. A concrete delivery gets delayed, a subcontractor ghosts you, or your kid decides to “redecorate” your truck with permanent marker. That’s par for the course. But when you’re playing by the rules—dotting your i’s, crossing your t’s, and keeping your business afloat—only to find out the rules are being rewritten mid-game? That’s the kind of thing that makes me want to hide under my desk with a bag of potato chips.

In construction, market uncertainty hits like a wrecking ball. Big-ticket projects—new homes, commercial builds—are the first to stall when wallets get nervous. That ripples into my everyday life: payroll, supplier payments, and whether I can afford to keep the office coffee machine stocked. I’ve got rainy-day funds and a faith that’s my ultimate safety net, but I’m still human, not some unflappable superhero. Headlines like these don’t just make me nervous for myself; they rattle me for my family, my employees, and, heck, humanity at large.

So, yeah, uncertainty’s my kryptonite. Not the kind I can wrestle into submission on a job site, but the kind that sneaks up like a market crash and whispers, “Good luck, buddy.” If the world’s going to rewrite the rulebook, at least give me a heads-up so I can sharpen my pencil and brace for impact.