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Friday, January 14, 2005

IN THE PRIVATE SECTOR

I had a new job. I was to be a driver/messenger for a bank.

They called me up: "You start on Monday. Report to Mister Lucker in Human Resources."

"OK," I said.

I was sitting on a chair in front of a desk, waiting.

The nameplate on the desk said: Horace Lucker, Sr. I remembered a Horace Lucker, Jr. from high school. An unpopular boy with an unfortunate name. I was about to meet his father. I hoped Horace Jr. hadn't mentioned my name to Horace Sr.

"Go to the mailroom," Mr. Lucker said. "There's a separate entrance around back."

"I thought I was hired as a messenger," I said.

"When you're not driving, you sort mail," Mr. Lucker said. "That's what it is."

"OK," I said. As always, I really needed a job.

"Report to Del, he's in the office next to the mailroom," Mr Lucker said. "Just do what he tells you, and don't listen to those other clowns down there."

"OK," I said.

I walked around the back of the building. I passed a loading dock. There was a small, nervous looking man standing there, smoking.

I went up some steps and into the building. I found Del.

"Go out there and ask Archie or Jim what to do," Del said. "They'll fill you in."

"OK," I said.

Del went back to his newspaper and coffee.

I went into the mailroom. "I'm looking for Archie," I said.

A very old man, no more than five feet tall, appeared from behind a big sorting machine.

"You're the new one," he said.

"I am," I agreed.

"I'll be supervising you then," he said. "Come on, we've got lots of mail to deliver, all through the building."

"Oh no, Archie." This from a big gangly fellow with a droopy mustache and thick glasses.

"I'm the supervisor; he's with me, don't you know," Archie said.

"No, no, Archie. He has to learn how to sort the mail first."

The gangly fellow pointed to a gigantic bin of mail and to a wall of pigeonholes.

"Jim, you're a dickhead. This guy is a driver. We need a driver, not another sorter." From a young preppy/frat looking guy at a corner desk.

"I'm Scott," he said. "You can ride with me until you learn the routes."

"OK," I said.

"Let's go," Scott said. "I want to get the car with the cruise control."

On the way to the parking lot we passed two mean looking black guys who were leaning up against the side of the building.

"That's Veldon and Charlie," Scott said. "They're OK. They're drivers too. They stay outside until the last minute so they don't have to help sort the mail. Jim's supposed to be in charge, but he's afraid to make them help. He thinks they'll kick his ass."

"Would they?" I asked.

"Only if he tried to make them work," Scott said. "Otherwise, probably not."

"Who was that guy just standing in the corner, muttering?" I asked.

"That's Bill," Scott said. "He's fucked up. Even worse than Jim."

"Is that why he was wearing the engineer's outfit?" I asked.

"I guess," Scott said. "He wears it every day, all filthy too."

Scott pulled onto the interstate, rammed the car up to 70, turned on the cruise control, and started fumbling in his cigarette pack. He finally extricated a big joint.

"Want a hit?" he asked as he lit up.

"No thanks," I said.

"So, you're straight?" Scott asked.

"I refuse to categorize myself so early in our relationship," I said.

Scott gave me a sideways look.

"You can make jokes with me," he said, "but don't try any of that shit when you go out with Veldon."

"Why is that?" I asked.

"Veldon hates fags worse than narcs," Scott said. "He'll fuck you up, seriously, if he thinks you're one or the other."

"Thanks for the warning," I said.

"I'm not joking," Scott said. "Veldon was in the Army, in a special squad. He's a trained killer."

"I get it," I said.

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It took over an hour to get to the South Branch and make our pickup and delivery. Then we were back in the car.

"This bank doesn't have many branches," Scott said. "But they're all over. You only have to make like two runs and it takes up the whole day. And on the way you can get high, eat, drink, whatever you want. It's a great job."

"I guess it is," I said.

"Did you see the customer service girl, with the long hair and the nice tits?" Scott asked.

"Yes, I did," I said.

"I fucked her," Scott said. "Last Halloween."

"Good for you," I said.

"Did you see that big guy, with the crewcut and the white socks, in the corner office?" Scott asked.

"I saw him," I said.

"He played pro football, maybe in the 60's or 70's," Stan said. "But he got all injured, so he had to become a banker. He's a real nice guy."

"I bet," I said.

We sped back up the interstate.

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I went to a pizza place for lunch, by myself. When I pulled back into the bank parking lot, I saw Scott, Veldon, and Charlie, sitting in a beat up Camaro. The inside of the car was thick with smoke.

Scott got out and called me over.

"You're doing the afternoon run with Veldon," he said. "I have to go up north."

"OK," I said.

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We were in a Ford Escort, with no cruise control. Veldon gripped the steering wheel as if he were wrestling a small, vicious animal. Eventually, the beast subdued, Velson relaxed and pulled out a joint. He took a hit and attempted to pass it to me.

"No thanks," I said.

"Scott told me you were straight," Veldon said.

"Scott told me you were a trained psychotic killer," I said.

Veldon laughed out loud.

"I was in the Army for a while. In the Rangers. But I got out when things started getting heavy. Know what I mean?"

"Sure," I said. I had no idea what he was talking about.

Veldon nodded and turned his attention back to the road.

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We made our delivery at South Branch and got back in the car.

"See that bitch sitting at the front desk?" Veldon asked.

"I saw her," I said.

"Scott said he fucked that bitch."

"I know," I said.

"You think he fucked her?" Veldon asked.

"I don't know," I said.

"Scott's full of shit. No way she gonna let Scott fuck her. I don't believe that shit for a minute."

"Oh," I said.

Veldon narrowed his eyes. "Would you fuck her?" he asked.

"Yes, I would," I said.

"So, you're not a fag, then," Veldon said.

"No, I'm not," I replied.

"Good," Veldon said. "I don't like riding around with fags."

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We got back around 4. Mr. Lucker was waiting in the mailroom.

"I've got some news," he said. "Del is leaving us." He pointed to Del's empty office.

Apparently Del had already left.

Then he pointed to a robust looking gentleman standing in the corner of the room.

"Effective, tomorrow morning, Mr. Frank T is the new supervisor."

Mr. Frank T gave a wave. "Glad to be on board," he said. "I'm looking forward to running this ship."

"And one more thing," Mr Lucker said. "We got a call from Bob, his car broke down at Central Branch. We'll need someone to go pick him up. Time and a half."

Mr. Lucker and Mr. McT left.

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"I'll go," I said, "if someone gives me directions."

"You're not going," Scott said. "You don't want to ride all the way back with the nutcase Bob."

Scott looked around. "You go, Jim," he said to the gangly guy.

"I don't have to drive anymore," Jim said. "Del put me in charge of the mailroom."

Veldon cleared his throat and looked at Jim. Jim hung his head.

"I'll go," Jim said. "But just because I need the money."

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"There's a bar right down the road," Scott said. "They have half price drinks till six. We usually go over there and get fucked up after work. Are you in?"

"OK," I said.

It felt good to be back in the workforce.

THE NIGHTMARE AFTER CHRISTMAS

I heard a clunk in the night. Then footsteps in the hall. Someone tapped me on the shoulder.

"I'm worried," I heard a voice say as if from far away.

"It'll be OK," I said. "I think I figured out a way to pay the holiday bills and buy a little food."

"Daddy, I said I'm worried."

It was T2.

"Sorry, I said. "I thought you were Mommy."

"Daddy, I'm worried that a big black bug, or a big spider, is going to come and take away striped kitty and unicorn."

"Were you dreaming that?" I asked.

Her eyes widened. "Yes!" she said. "Yes I was!"

"It'll be OK," I said. "You were just dreaming that because of the scary movie we watched before bed. It was just a bad dream, not real."

"Take that movie back," T2 said.

"OK," I said. "In the morning."

I walked T2 back to bed. She fell asleep almost instantly.

I was almost back to sleep myself when I remembered that we needed oil. I hadn't figured that into the bills. $300 short. I tried to put it out of mind, but I couldn't. I tossed, turned, and finally sat bolt upright as my own, less gruesome, but just as compelling, nightmare vision unfolded.














Wednesday, January 12, 2005

6 O'CLOCK SEATING, NEW YEAR'S EVE

"It's almost quarter after," I said. "Anyone hear from Lewis and Sandra?"

"Lewis is always late," someone said.

Appetizers came and went. Then soup.

"Are you sure there's nothing wrong?" I asked. "Maybe someone should call?"

"It's all right," someome else said. "Lewis is always late."

Louis came in halfway through the salad.

"Where's Sandra?" someone asked.

"Sandra won't be dining with us this evening." Lewis said.

There was silence for a second. Lewis dug into his salad.

"And why won't Sandra be dining with us this evening?" someone asked.

Lewis stopped chewing and sat up. He looked around the table. Finally he spoke:

"For years, for years, people have been saying, 'Lewis is always late.' But I have been ready. I should not have been late. All these years I have been waiting for Sandra. Sandra is always late. But no more waiting for me. That is my resolution. I told her, 'If I'm ready, I'm going,' and she didn't believe me. But then she saw. I was ready. And I went."

Lewis returned to his salad.






Monday, January 10, 2005

CHAIN OF COMMAND

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T1 had a question.

"Is D's bedtime sometimes before ours?"

"No," I said. "His is after yours."

"But he is in bed now," T1 said.

"Sometimes he goes up early to his own room, but not to bed," I said. "He stays up and plays on the computer, or watches tv."

"Is he allowed to do that?" T1 asked.

"Yes," I said. "I guess."

T1 pounced on my carelessly indecisive answer.

"So," she said. "It's really Mommy that is in charge. And you are only in charge when Mommy is not here. Is that right?"

"I guess," I said.


Wednesday, January 05, 2005

THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS

I hear a strangled shriek coming from the dining room.

"My God," LZ says. "Where did this monstrosity come from?"

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A FEW QUESTIONS AND A COMMENT FROM T1

T1: How do you know when it is time to take a baby out of a crib and into a real bed?

Me: In your case it was when I came into your room and found you climbing over the rail, almost falling on your head. We went out and bought beds that very day.

T1: And what keeps roofs together and stuck on houses?

Me: Usually they nail them on.

T1: With hammers?

Me: Exactly.

T1: Do they have to use long nails?

Me: I guess some of the time.

T1: If we get a new roof, can I help you hammer it on?

Me: Of course.

T1: I wish I could see into the insides of every person.

Me: Why is that?

T1: I would like to know what is in there.

Me: Oh.

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