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| It was a good long while ago, but when the memory hit, it was - is - present tense. |
| 10.26.09 (11:09 am) [edit] |
Good morning Boys and Girls.A memory from long ago... I walk along a busy road in the dark as rain falls. I pass through an underpass, with water gathered in a wide puddle at its bottom. There is a sidewalk along there and its raised just enough to be above water, but it's too close to the road for me to avoid being sprayed by every car that passes. I curse seven cars during the twenty seconds it takes me to pass by the temporary lake. My car sits a mile back. I turn to check, and yes, I can still see the flashing lights sparking; tiny fireflies in the rain. I see the service station ahead. It seems to grow no closer, but its not more than a mile ahead. I know this because I know this area; the business route off the highway leading into Michigan's Capitol. Had I run out of gas just three more miles ahead, there would have been a gas station every hundred yards for a couple of miles, but no. I didn't quite make it. This is no emergency situation. I am in no danger. I am angry at the world, but I'm not scared. I am, however, very wet and tired and at least part of me has murder in my heart. This is Thursday evening in November about eight. I've been away from home since 5:00 Monday morning. I am on my way home from a job on the west side of the state about eighty miles north of Grand Rapids where I've worked sixteen hours a day to meet a deadline at four p.m. earlier today. I got the job done; a job that would normally have taken at least two weeks, and usually three. The owner of the company begged me to take on the project after having turned down my initial solicitation a couple of months earlier. Finally, last week. after "praying extensively" about his problem, he decided that he did need help, and he called me last Thursday evening - almost exactly one week ago now, to the minute. I spent last weekend doing as much as I could on the preliminaries, canceling an evening out with my wife on Saturday so I could keep working. By Monday morning, I was confident that I could get the job done this week, in time for the owner to meet the State imposed deadline - the third deadline he'd been given. He'd completely ignored the first two warnings. Now, it had become very serious. He simply had to address some serious health and safety violalations that had resulted in three injuries to his workers within a ninety day period. Not that they were always terribly efficient, but the inspectors had taken notice of this - the pattern being so glaringly obvious. I told the guy that I'd have to drop everything else I was working on in order to get his project completed on time. I told him what my hourly rate was, that I required a retainer and full payment upon completion, which was my standard policy. He assured me that he'd have my retainer check waiting for me when I arrived, and that, of course, he'd pay me in full upon completion. When I'd arrived, during the hour long meeting with the owner in which I told him exactly what I'd be doing, the order in which I'd be completing the dozen-odd tasks, and what information I needed access to and why, he asked me if I'd mind foregoing the retainer since he was going to pay me so soon anyway; that getting checks cut was a pain in the neck for him unless they were done during the normal cycle. I said that was fine, though I didn't like it - mostly because he'd said it would be ready and waiting. During the four days I worked on-site, I heard many tales of management's callous disregard for worker safety from employees, and I saw evidence of it everywhere I turned. Safety guards were completely removed from almost all machinery. Safety switches had been overidden; stops on presses specifically designed to keep the damn things from crushing hands and limbs had been rigged so as to be inoperative, putting anyone who used them at severe risk. One of my tasks was creating lockout procedures to ensure that machines could not be turned on by one person while someone else was in the process of doing maintenance or repair on them - a set of procedures so basic and necessary that I'd never seen a place of this size - there were over a hundred employees - without them in twelve years. It was shocking. Meanwhile, each morning I met with the owner to brief him on my previous day's work, and to inform him one the things he needed to acquire to make the work I was doing worthwhile and meaningful. During these meetings, the man repeatedly worked his faith into the conversation - as well as his disdain for any sort of government intervention into his business. He felt strongly that, not only should he be free to run his business any way he saw fit - as guaranteed by the constitution, he claimed - but also that the real problem these days were the trial lawyers. I bit my tongue each day. It was too obvious. He didn't give a crap about his workers, and if they didn't like the way he did things, they were welcome to leave and find work elsewhere. They certainly shouldn't have the right to sue him if the way he ran his business caused them injury, nor should he be subject to oversight by anyone. He and Jesus seemed to have an arrangement. If he had faith, anything he did was fine, and no mere human should have the right to intervene in any way whatsoever. Of course, when I finished the job, with three hours to spare - than you very much - the girl who cut the checks was off for the day, and she was the ONLY person who knew the check-writing system. He'd mail me a check. Now I walk to the the gas station. I had been so angry for the last few hours that I hadn't paid attention to my fuel indicator. I borrow a gas can from the station owner, buy a couple gallons of gas and start to walk back, dreading sloshing back through that underpass and sprays that would soon drench me. Before I get out of the parking lot, a fellow who'd just purchased gas himself asks me if I'd like a ride back to my car. I thank him profusely and accept the ride. One hundred and twenty days later, after sending off a certified letter threatening legal action, I receive a check for half my invoice along with a promise of payment of the other half next month. Sixty days later, I call about the other half of my fee. The number is no longer in service. Be good to everyone. |
posted by: OldSchool (reply)
post date: 10.26.09 (1:06 pm)
Wonderful writing! I thought I was reading a short story at first and could picture it quite vividly. Interesting to find that it was a true story. Sorry to hear you did not collect your money.
Hope all is well with you!
posted by: surrogate (reply)
post date: 10.26.09 (3:39 pm)
Reply to: OldSchool
Reply to: OldSchool
Ah, water under the bridge. I've been screwed just a few times in my career - maybe a half-dozen times in thirty-five years, but each and EVERY time it's been by people who loudly proclaim their faith and felt the need to mention how they'd "had to pray" about their decisions. I think I was reminded of the incident because about two weeks ago, I happened to run across the last guy who shafted me. It happened a couple of years ago. It was funny; he couldn't look me in the eye. I loved it. As I walked past him, I made sure to say "God bless you", and then added under my breath, to myself, I added, "you hypocritical asshole", and chuckled as I walked away.
posted by: auntconi (reply)
post date: 10.26.09 (6:25 pm)
Good writing ~ sorry it was a true story!
posted by: PirateGirl (reply)
post date: 10.26.09 (9:32 pm)
It's too bad people like this give Christianity a bad name - They seem to use it as a licence to do - well, anything. Sad really - and not God's fault. I'm not saying that no one is a hypocrite, but it's no wonder they can't look you or anyone else in the eye. Did you end reporting him for the violations he had on the machinery?
posted by: surrogate (reply)
post date: 10.27.09 (5:49 am)
Reply to: PirateGirl
My job was helping companies address violations. The State was already aware of the safety violations; hence the citations. My observation is that people who wear their faith like merit badges, instead of say, like a hidden ace bandage, where it does them good and supports their everyday lives, tend to be the sort that, as you say, need something to give them license to act badly. I sure don't blame God.
posted by: Kram1000 (reply)
post date: 10.28.09 (6:03 am)
The Bastard. Dont you just hate selfish people like that? They think they're there for you. Not your there doing a favour for them. Are you sure he wasn't an Indian? As in Bombay / Calcutta. The profile seems to fit remarkably well. LOL
I liked the way you wrote the storey
posted by: surrogate (reply)
post date: 10.29.09 (5:23 am)
Reply to: Kram1000
I don't know if the guy was selfish, though it was obvious he didn't care about anyone but himself. Later I found out from his plant manager that he'd decided to go out of business rather than spend the few thousand dollars it would have cost him to fix the place up - or so was his claim. The truth seemed to be that some of his customers insisted that his place be certified, and since it wasn't, they started canceling orders. Personally, I thought he was just a dumb-ass. (His Dad had started the business. Often second generation owners don't have the smarts to carry on, especially after the death of the originator. I've seen that scenario play out many times, even in my own family.)
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