With the Boss out another day and rumors (which I honestly consider unfounded) circulating that he is drinking himself to death, the subject of in-warehouse conversation today centered around addiction.
As you may remember, the owner of a major contractor went into work drunk and fired all his employees. Here's the update: he is now living in a garage while his wife tries to salvage the business. None of the suppliers are offering him credit. Some of his employees have returned.
At the front desk, we are the great hub of contractor gossip, since it's the one place where any given tinknocker might find any other tinknocker on a Wednesday morning.
They drive up to the docks, park, and come inside for conversation and coffee, and to place orders.
And this is not only why I know about all these rumors, but why the rumors spread widely in a short time.
While I pulled orders, I overhead Eddie talking about his old drinking days: how many cases he would drink in a week. He mentioned that, at his worst, he stood drunk on a balcony and flipped the bird to passing cars.
Who hasn't done this? I wondered. Or at least come close.
But then, almost in an aside, he mentioned that this lead to him losing his home, wife, and family.
*
I know quite a few of my co-workers are turning to drink. On the level of sheer numbers, this doesn't make sense: if you have less money, why spend it on booze? But there are other forms of capital, friend!
It isn't only me who is coming closer to Bartleby the Scrivener.
As people's stress levels rise, as families collapse, as work gets harder and less reward, as we kill the celebrations that subtly but effectively kept open the possibility for regeneration (Christmas parties, New Years) there doesn't seem much to offset the grind. And since the grind is so unappealing, so numbing, why not simply say:
That's okay. Today I'll stay in bed.
Knowing well enough that it'll be weeks before the bulldozers arrive.
And maybe by then at least you can drink some choice spiced rum and gotten a full night's sleep.
I speak here on the level of emotions: for men (and I really am speaking only of men, although I'm sure this holds for women and boys as well) who shut down in the face of despair. I have come to understand that there are people who will never quite understand this. I don't know why, but those people exist and there's a gulf here. So, if you're one of them, so be it.
We can no longer take to the sea, or disappear to Florida and join the circus. There are fewer escape routes, and ultimately there will be none.
Good for justice, no? Bad for the psyche and us too fragile humans, who sometimes must do the wrong thing a few times to get any understanding on matters. And sometimes more than a few.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
The Contest
I challenged Billy to an armwrestling contest today.
He told me I could put his hand all the way to the far side and start there.
He beat me instantly, and we tried it again. This time, he dug his fingers so tightly into my hand that it ripped the skin off.
"Instant disqualitification!" I yelled, in triumph.
Dougie scores again.
He told me I could put his hand all the way to the far side and start there.
He beat me instantly, and we tried it again. This time, he dug his fingers so tightly into my hand that it ripped the skin off.
"Instant disqualitification!" I yelled, in triumph.
Dougie scores again.
The Eventless Horizon
Billy pulled me aside today.
"Can I ask you something?"
Sure, Billyboy.
"Do you think the Boss has a drinking problem?"
The Boss was out for days last year with a strange "stomach problem" and it was widely rumored that his beloved combination of tequila and weed were hitting his gut and his immune system with a one-two punch.
I told Billy I story I heard about the Boss.
I heard that the Boss's grandmother died of cirrhosis, and that he had to see her as she died. Apparently, she was sweating and twitching in her final moments.
"So it runs in the family," Billy said.
Then, without missing a beat, Billy went on to explain how his beer consumption has risen to ten to twelve beers a night. "Although," he added, "If I drink hard liquor, my girl will kick me out of the house!"
*
My mother got power again, and thanks for that. Because the Boss has been out two days straight, I haven't had access to the worktruck, so I've been stuck in the w.
At one point, to alleviate boredom, I tore up a piece of paper and rubbed it in my hair.
I try to learn more about sales, but people are protective of their knowledge and guard whatever skills they acquire. The company itself seems to lack all organization when it comes to training their employees. The computer system is still based on MS-DOS and, as I mentioned before, parts are assigned numbers we have to memorize to input them into a sales order. Unfortunately, the parts correspond to those used by an old manufacturer we no longer work with. There are hundreds of parts. One, for example, a sticky back collar with damper, has the number 133 stamped on the side, but Billy, and everyone else, calls it a 168. Not a big problem for a few parts or even twenty, but with hundreds, you can imagine how this makes it difficult for the "new guy" -- I've worked there for two years, if you can believe it -- to learn the system.
Additionally, different contractors have different names for the parts. They are not standardized.
When I make progress learning the system, it is during the occasional slow days. As I catch on, the truck runs start coming back in, and I soon return to the same duties I've held since my second day on the job. Pulling orders off a list, driving the truck, sweeping the floors, emptying the trash, stacking the cardboard.
On a day like, say, today, the eventless horizon makes for some long hours. During the last five minutes of my shift, I suspect I look at the clock dozens of times.
*
The raid on my mother's freezer yielded a hefty package of chicken breasts, which I've been slow cooking with green onions, shallots, nutmeg, cinnamon, oil, and chilli peppers since I got home from work at five.
It is a vaguely Indian tasting dish. Not my best, but okay. Probably enough for ten meals if I space them right. Decent meals, at that: mix up the rice and the sandwiches and the salads in appropriate combinations and I just might make it to the end without becoming tired of the taste.
The trick, tonight, is get a little reading and writing done and get to bed in time for seven hours sleep. In the event that the Boss misses again tomorrow, I don't want to face another day like the last two with anything but a full fighting spirit.
"Can I ask you something?"
Sure, Billyboy.
"Do you think the Boss has a drinking problem?"
The Boss was out for days last year with a strange "stomach problem" and it was widely rumored that his beloved combination of tequila and weed were hitting his gut and his immune system with a one-two punch.
I told Billy I story I heard about the Boss.
I heard that the Boss's grandmother died of cirrhosis, and that he had to see her as she died. Apparently, she was sweating and twitching in her final moments.
"So it runs in the family," Billy said.
Then, without missing a beat, Billy went on to explain how his beer consumption has risen to ten to twelve beers a night. "Although," he added, "If I drink hard liquor, my girl will kick me out of the house!"
*
My mother got power again, and thanks for that. Because the Boss has been out two days straight, I haven't had access to the worktruck, so I've been stuck in the w.
At one point, to alleviate boredom, I tore up a piece of paper and rubbed it in my hair.
I try to learn more about sales, but people are protective of their knowledge and guard whatever skills they acquire. The company itself seems to lack all organization when it comes to training their employees. The computer system is still based on MS-DOS and, as I mentioned before, parts are assigned numbers we have to memorize to input them into a sales order. Unfortunately, the parts correspond to those used by an old manufacturer we no longer work with. There are hundreds of parts. One, for example, a sticky back collar with damper, has the number 133 stamped on the side, but Billy, and everyone else, calls it a 168. Not a big problem for a few parts or even twenty, but with hundreds, you can imagine how this makes it difficult for the "new guy" -- I've worked there for two years, if you can believe it -- to learn the system.
Additionally, different contractors have different names for the parts. They are not standardized.
When I make progress learning the system, it is during the occasional slow days. As I catch on, the truck runs start coming back in, and I soon return to the same duties I've held since my second day on the job. Pulling orders off a list, driving the truck, sweeping the floors, emptying the trash, stacking the cardboard.
On a day like, say, today, the eventless horizon makes for some long hours. During the last five minutes of my shift, I suspect I look at the clock dozens of times.
*
The raid on my mother's freezer yielded a hefty package of chicken breasts, which I've been slow cooking with green onions, shallots, nutmeg, cinnamon, oil, and chilli peppers since I got home from work at five.
It is a vaguely Indian tasting dish. Not my best, but okay. Probably enough for ten meals if I space them right. Decent meals, at that: mix up the rice and the sandwiches and the salads in appropriate combinations and I just might make it to the end without becoming tired of the taste.
The trick, tonight, is get a little reading and writing done and get to bed in time for seven hours sleep. In the event that the Boss misses again tomorrow, I don't want to face another day like the last two with anything but a full fighting spirit.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Playlist
Randomized playlist heard while writing:
- Thea Gilmore "I Want to Tell You" (a Beatle's cover)
- Rapeman, "Marmoset"
- Modest Mouse, "The Good Times Are Killing Me"
- Geeshie Wiley "Eagles on a Half"
- Al Jolson "Liza"
- Down "Stone the Crows"
- Blue Oyster Cult "Mes Dames Sarat"
- Bob Dylan "All I Really Want to Do"
- Blondie "In the Sun"
- Antonius Block "I Won,T Love"
- Roxy Music "To Turn You On"
- The Everly Brothers "Crying in the Rain"
Crude Populisms
Jess tried to prank me by switching my home page to a gay porn site. Nice try! Better luck next time!
*
The Boss was out today, so I spent all day in the w. Work came in a trickle. At one point, I felt like going outside and rubbing dirt in my hair.
After work, I drove to my mother's house to check on her. Although the outside temperature had warmed, inside it was still dangerously cold.
I grabbed some defrosting meat from the freezer that I'll cook up before it goes bad. I also looked in the pantry and saw five big bottles of molasses. She hardly ever cooks with it, so I stuffed a bottle into my coat on my way out the door.
*
Gonna go work on the novel a little before teaching tonight. That's all, folks!
*
The Boss was out today, so I spent all day in the w. Work came in a trickle. At one point, I felt like going outside and rubbing dirt in my hair.
After work, I drove to my mother's house to check on her. Although the outside temperature had warmed, inside it was still dangerously cold.
I grabbed some defrosting meat from the freezer that I'll cook up before it goes bad. I also looked in the pantry and saw five big bottles of molasses. She hardly ever cooks with it, so I stuffed a bottle into my coat on my way out the door.
*
Gonna go work on the novel a little before teaching tonight. That's all, folks!
Sunday, December 14, 2008
I Am Drunken
I drank three of the craft beers today, forgetting that they hover around nine percent.
I am drunken.
Jess is making fun of me.
Carry on, soldiers!
I am drunken.
Jess is making fun of me.
Carry on, soldiers!
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