And the messiness of the job gives people a particular look, after just a few weeks they look like they’ve been picking potatoes in the Dust Bowl. Anyone who has worked a dirty job knows the satisfaction of watching the dirt run down the drain. Tans burn deep, wrinkles catch dirt, and lower eyelids curl from squinting in the blazing sun. To wash when you are truly dirty, to eat when you are truly hungry, to drink when you are truly thirsty are satisfactions that peel back the civilization’s less necessary necessities. You might find that after a day of this kind of work you can have a satisfactory sleep using a pair of folded jeans as a pillow. There is no longer any ambiguity in how you feel, and the relative nature of comfort is brought into sharp focus when someone passes a single cold can of coke around to be shared by a truck full of depleted people covered in a dry film of sweat, dirt and blood—windows down, hair blowing. Try staying in a cheap hotel with some Dominos after weeks in a tent and you may no longer wonder how it feels to be a Saudi Prince.