All in a day's work. It was Friday. That means payday and that means cash, real green in the hand of those who have spent effort at your expense. So, you go to the bank and - nope - no cash. No cash and $7,000 odd dollars overdraft. Hmmmm, not so good. Fees out the ass. Very unhappy labor. And another sickness in the belly to deal with adversity: forced to confront someone in the wrong.
Could be me. Could be. Wasn't though. Was Patrick. Nice kid. Friendly and smiley and the pictures on his desk were of Breckenridge and Cancun. He was agreeable. He was helpful. He promised much more than he could deliver on and it is now Friday and there is no cash and heaven help us, $7,000 dollars bleeding me dry. In steps Carlos, mgr. with soft eyes and depth to his words. Authentic. A first in many, many days here.
I had to rat out Patrick. It was the pivot point where I got access to my cash and he got, well, he was held accountable for his words.
Just hours before I was hip-deep, swinging a pick-axe in a trench. Messy work. Muddy except that the ground was still frozen from two inches through eight inches. The union electrican who asked for help was cool. I heard when I left the job site he sat in a chair and ate a bananna in the sun.
And how are these damned stories related? They ain't to you Reader. They all occured on the same damned day for me. A normal day. Boss man. Picking in the trench, getting sloppy muddy, then petitioning branch manager at bank for $500. Oof. Why did I quit that fancy management, white collar job years ago?
Is happy a continual, transitional moment?
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