Friday, June 03, 2005

i wouldn't be surprised if there weren't a few flies joining in Every now and then Bob Bandit pops out of his hummer in the morning with a new scruffy worker dude, usually a middle aged guy in a baseball cap that needs any kind of work, and met Bob in a bar the night before. Its kind of funny since its such a contrast of opposites.  It would be sort of like Donald Trump picking up a homeless guy in his limo and having him  share his morning meetings and schedule until he puts him to work in one of his hotels Anyway, I generally don't like when Bob drags in a new worker dude, because I really don't like meeting new people--it took me a long time just to get comfortable with Bob Bandit and Joe Venuti.  And then there's my general suspicion that unshaven, unemployed, middle-aged dudes are probably perverts and degenerates. So anyway again, Bob brings in one of these worker degenerates this morning.  He said his name, but I don't remember what it was.  He shook Joe Venuti's hand, but I was too busy driving to extend the same courtesy. As we were driving out to our first lead the worker dude began to reveal some of his personal history. "That's where my aunt lives, over there," he said pointing to a big house in a well to do neighborhood. Worker degenerates usually try to project this illusion like they're related to wealthy people, so if you're nice to them, or give them a good job, you might get rewarded by their mysterious wealthy relative.  (And if its true that they really do have wealthy relatives, then I wonder what kind of completely fucked up thing they did--or thousands of things they did--to be halfway on the street.) A little further along in the neighborhood, the worker degenerate pointed to a white, marble sculpture of a panther at the edge of the road, which line the ritzy neighborhood: "I hit one of those things with my car one time.  I was drunk as hell coming back from a golf tournament out here.  They actually wanted me to pay for it!" Again, the allusion to an imagined wealthy past. (Or one of the real events that dropped him so far from it). "Hell, you shoulda just stole another one from up the street," Bob said.  (For some reason I found that very hillarious and burst out laughing). Pretty soon we stopped at our first lead on Coffee Pot Bayou and Bob went up to the door to try to close the deal.  As a general habit, me and Joe will canvas the surrounding houses, and try to hustle extra work. The worker degenerate took this as a signal that he was supposed to get out of the truck too and start stretching his legs and smoking cigarettes.  Once me and Joe were back in the truck, the worker degenerate was still out there puffing away on his marlboros and fiddling with his hat.  Normally, I would be glad that the dude was out of my personal space, but now I was worried that his scummy appearance and sketchy behavior was going to spook my customer and lose me a big sale.  Fortunately, Bob closed the deal anyway. At our next stop, Joe Venuti spotted this funny looking redneck unloading some gear from a white pick-up. "That's a serious mullet," Joe Venuti said mockingly.  "Hey, I think I know that guy," the worker degenerate dude said. Then as we got closer and parked: "yeah, yeah, I do know that guy.  He's a total CRACKHEAD!" the worker degenerate said.  "Or at least, he hangs out with them," he added a second later. I guess the worker degenerate was trying to elevate his socio/moral status with us by putting himself on a higher plane than the supposed crackhead. Then I turned my attention to Bob Bandit again who was trying to close another big sale with one of my leads.  If all went well, it would be a $500 Friday for me.  Then my attention was turned again by somebody at my truck's window. "Heeeeeeeeeeey!!!! How's it goin' buddy!" It was the Crackhead, mullet guy, greeting the Worker Degenerate. "Pretty good! Pretty good! How the hell are ya?" said the Worker Degenerate.  With that, the Worker Degenerate got out and b.s.-ed with the Crackhead-mullet guy. I can't say I'd like to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.  In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if the're weren't a few flies joining in. 9:11:20 PM    comment [] to assume makes an ass out of.... I got a call from some lady I didn't know, about 8pm last night.  "Is this Mark Michaels?" she said. She sounded kind of old and sweet, but I wasn't gonna let that fool me.  If I answered "yes" the next thing she was gonna say was, "I'm calling about a debt of ____ you owe to the such n' such company." So, I decided to pre-empt her with my most sarcastic, "That's depends, who the hell is this?" Turns out she really was a sweet old lady from right here in the neighborhood.  I had just left a card on her door that afternoon and now she was wanting an estimate for tree work.  I had to lay on the boyish charm to save that lead. ass-umption number two.... Last night I was busy getting things done around the house, so I decided to order a pizza to be delivered.  Well aware that they have a record of everything I've ever odered in their computer, and that I always order the same thing (a large with pepperoni, green pepper, and onion), I decided to save us some time. "Thank-you for calling Gumby's, what can I get for you?" "You have my last order in your computer, don't you?" (slight pause) "Sure do." "I'll get the same thing again." "You got it, boss.  It'll be about thirty minutes." Over the next half hour my anticipation built as I imagined eating a delicious, large Gumby's pizza with all of that pepperoni, green pepper and onion.  Finally, I saw the tell tale car come creeping down the street and stop in front of my house. The pizza guy got out with a small, kid-sized pizza box, and a plastic bag holding a two liter bottle of something.  It took my brain about two seconds two unravel this scooby doo mystery as the pizza guy came trotting up the side-walk. My last order was placed when my little girl had her girlfriend here for a sleep over.  So the stuff in the plastic bag was gonna be diet coke, and the little pizza was going to be totally plain. "That'll be twelve-fifty four," the pizza guy said blamelessly. (Hey, if I'd-a fought rabid, grizzly bears last night I would tell you about it. But this is all I got right now). 8:05:46 AM    comment []

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