Just Wandering

In my wife’s often cute and humorous Latina mispronunciation of the English language this morning started with a piece of sage advice I may well follow…….

“ Don’t buy “Fruit of Balloons” any more “ she said as I disgustedly held up a two week old pair of underpants already sporting holes in them. Don’t buy a lot of things any more I’m thinking as most everything we buy has turned to junk before it even develops a stain. How about a bath room hook that towels just slide off to mock you from the floor,…. or toilet roll holders that hold the paper so tight to the wall it forces you to claw little ripped bits off in a desperate rage…..

Lots of stuff doesn’t even make it home. The other day in a local Mal Wart the wife spied a stainless steel mesh strainer she planned to use that very day. As we unloaded the cart I picked it up only to feel my fingers rip the mesh from the handle as easily as plucking a butterfly wing. I held it up for the kid at the cash to see and said…….

“ Ya better keep this “ and this simple statement was rewarded with a blank stare and the question……

“ Don’t ya want it ? ”……..good grief.

But this mornings news offers some tiny ray of hope for us all. I notice Master Locks in Milwaukee has returned some of the jobs back from China and has hired more people. It is now operating its unionized signature plant three shifts a day, seven days a week…..and doing so at less cost than bringing locks here from China. I also notice G.E. is setting up a water heater plant in Kentucky, also swaying away from some of its Chinese manufactured junk, and we are making Frisbees again.

Less tax for large corporations and rich investors has been our mantra for twenty five years and frankly I’m still waiting for the promised benefit of this we all are supposed to enjoy. I’m thinking now, as I always have, that companies like Master Lock should be the only ones worthy of said tax breaks …..

I would gladly pay more for “Fruit of Balloons” that didn’t sport holes…..how about you?

They would never tolerate this in Mexico and good for them….but we tolerate it here, and shame on us……

When Travis first told me he had eleven or twelve “Dawgs “ I had to ask,

“ How do ya remember all their names Travis ?”   causing me to receive the upraised eye brow usually reserved for only the truly ignorant as only a Yankee could be….

“ Names ??….ye don’t name Dawgs “….and so one Friday Travis had made arrangements with the boss to have Friday off so’s he could go huntin. Naturally enough Travis would have to stop by the job first as he needed his pay check in order to afford the copious amounts of Bud Lite a days hunting required for success . Well he showed up in his girlfriends near beat to death Toyota Celica of truly vintage proportions and as he stood waiting for the bossman to bring out the check someone asked…..

“ What’s that noise coming out of the trunk of the car Travis?”….

“ Oh…at’s just a couple of the dawgs “

“ Do they like riding in the trunk Travis….?

“ Well they ain’t ridin up front with me….sides, they don’t mind much. They get in the trunk an they know they goin huntin.” I found it interesting to learn that once in the bush, and I mean out where the palmettos go forever, one of the dogs just simply and calmly walked away. Never to return to trunk rides or any thing else related to Travis. And if not for the fact of a misfired rifle Travis would have……

“ Shot that ungrateful sonofabitch to death ”

“Hunnerd an forty bucks for a permit to install a water heater”…”Just pisses me off….wish they’d all stayed up there where they belong .” and of course he continued in length

I’m not sure what the difference makes as far as the rules go…..

“ Weren’t planning on pulling a permit anyway…were ya ?” I asked and all this brought me back to my beginings in the deep South close on a decade ago when I worked as a block layer with a man named Travis. Travis was hardcore…he was raised by a gator poacher and followed close to Poppas foot steps. He drove an old and beat tow truck with the towing apparatus removed and exchanged for a cage. To add color the entire right front fender was encased in two inches of chicken guano where he used to park it under the tree where Mommas chickens roosted. First thing I ever heard from Travis was his opinion that the …..

“ Only thing worse than a Yankee is a Yankee that comes down here and “effing” stays” and so it may come as some surprise that Travis and myself became quite friendly. Though from different worlds Travis and I had an important quality shared from which bred a mutual respect, and trust. The respect a man who spends his days in the sun plying a trade offers one who is able to do the same. And I learned a great deal from Travis….

One Friday, and two days after a court appearance and heavy fine for possession of gator parts Travis came back from a half hour lunch with the biggest turtle I ever saw lashed down to the back of the guano mobile….. dead

“ What the hell is that Travis ?” I needed to know

“ Why.. that’s supper. Did ya know a turtle has eight very distinctly different flavored meats ?”….and I had to fess…I did not. And so on Monday morning I was overly curious… I needed to know.

“ How was supper Friday night Travis ?”

“ Ah don’t effing know…stopped at a bar on the way home and when I come out some sonofabitch done stole it.”

“ Some one stole your dead turtle ?” I asked….being a Yankee the concept of such an act was just miles over my head.

“ Turtles worth eight bucks a pound in Myaka City ya know.”…..and this made me happy….. as Rib Eye steaks were under six bucks a pound and seemingly a better deal.

“Router beetz “

“ Router bits…sure, they are right over here “ I said while leading them to the display of router bits of two leading manufacturers

And with an impatient roll of the eyes the leader again says….

“ No…router beetz,… router beetz…. para corta.drywall”

So in my obviously inadequate Spanish I attempted to explain that these were in fact router bits and a router was not generally used to cut drywall. During this the smallest of the gang decided my language skills were just too funny and continued with his laughter and rude comments at every opening of my semi bi lingual mouth.

“ This gringo speaks Spanish like an imbecile” he constantly mentioned to his friends…..all the while making no effort to stifle his constant, and taunting laugh at both my grammar and accent.

As a good employee of HD I put up with the endless insults until after we had ascertained that the router in question was in fact not a router, but a Roto Zip tool. Then having performed my duty to HD and clinched the sale of appropriate Roto Zip bits I felt it was time to perform my duty to my fellow Americans. I explained to the semi literate uninvited low paid job stealing guest to my country that I at least showed him the respect of attempting to help him in his own tongue as he obviously couldn’t help himself in mine ……and then with the menace learned from years in a tough guy environment I then leaned forward to add quietly……

“ How’s Your English …bitch , hmmmm ? ….

I then advised him he’d be wise to pay for the drill bit set surreptously slipped into a back pocket. Smiley stopped smiling for the first time at this point obviously not taking his first lesson in English well. And I hope it was a lesson and not just a lesson in language skills. I’m hoping an uninvited and disrespectful intruder of my home has learned that not all Americans are going to accept what we accept with quiet grace.

I found the drill bits stashed halfway to the cash register , obviously important enough to steal…but not enough to buy.

The past couple of weeks the mornings ritual has had me skulking silently through the darkness to turn on the coffee maker whilst avoiding the disturbance of the large group of the wifes vacationing family. That was almost impossible this particular morning as half way to my destination I placed my famous left foot onto the upright left foot of a very cute hard plastic doll. The consequent impalement forced a lateral side step placing the right foot upon a paper plate such was the home of a slice of cake. As the abundant icing was forced between my toes like the eruption from a can of Cheeze Whiz I felt guiltless thinking…almost aloud….they have got to go .

This story actually began some three months ago when the wife uttered the three words in her command of the English language that can instantly place that ball in the pit of my stomach. You know that feeling you had as a kid when you were sent to the Principals office….you just instinctively knew….this can’t possibly go well…..

“My families coming “….were the three words spoken so low and conspiratorial it forced me to ask it be repeated. And she went on to explain that they had things to do in Orlando and were planning to hit Vegas and in between they might spend a couple of days with us. This, of course caused the big stomach ball to shrink to a small stomach ball…..However, the day they landed in Miami it was a rented car bee line for us and with in the hour of arriving they were off to the local Publix grocery store to return with over $300 bucks worth of groceries. Obviously the “couple of days in between” was a mistake…a miscommunication or in all likely hood, a simple bald faced lie on the wife’s part.

Colombian visitors to the United States like three things very much…they like to sit on the beach, they like to go to the mall, and far better than a trip to Disney World is a day at Walmart. Mall trips are special as every one enters the mall and instantly scatters to the four winds with out a plan of reuniting in the foreseeable future.

“ Stay with her “ my wife told me as one of them veered off to ogle the earings at Macy’s…”She won’t know where we are.” Well I won’t know where you are either I thought while ignoring this request/demand. The fact that they lack cell phones means you are lucky to gather the crowd together to leave in under six hours. Once in a while small clumps of the gang will stumble upon each other and hang out in wait for the others. Then in impatience some of those will decide a search party needs head out to look for the others I find it interesting that certain health problems will prevent certain family members from gimping around a museum or park for two hours….but a six hour mall marathon is no problem….day after day.

Private time is something long cherished since my days at sea long ago and eight adults and a two year old in my 1150 sq. feet of house can bring back some of the old angst I felt back then. I’m tired now… three weeks tired of barbecues at 8:45 pm…..making French toast and BLTs at 9:00 pm…..listening to eight people speaking Spanish at the same time as the radio and TV blared in ever increasing volume…also in Spanish. Tired of a two year olds bacon dripping hand prints 28 inches from the floor around the inside perimeter of the house.

They are wonderful and I love em…and they are always welcome ….but they left and I’m glad and as they did I stood at the end of the drive with a tear in my eye……

And joy in my heart

 And so I arrived home in defeat and sat at the table and watched the two year old member of the large entourage, being the wife’s’ vacationing family, that have taken over my home. She took delight in my table bound rose and leaned across the table to sniff and gently caress it and I wondered if it would create some memories for her.

Then…in one quick and decisive swipe she removed half its petals and stuffed them in her mouth . My hope is that it might possibly improve the aroma of the pampers that have so often malodorously walked past me these past two overly crowded weeks.

Some twenty odd years ago I boarded a flight for Cali Colombia. This was not just a trip of adventure like many I had taken in the recent past… it was a meeting. It was a meeting , as it turned out, of myself and future in law family. One particular member of this family was Marta, the traditional old maid who doddered about taking care of her sisters family and household chores. Marta, having never married, was a welcome fixture in a very traditional South American family atmosphere…..a sort of female equivalent to Uncle Charley on My Three Sons

But time lumbers on and eventually Marta, aging and frequently arguing with her older sister opted to leave the family environment and move into a nearby home for the aged. This is where Marta at long last met the love of her life and at the age of seventy nine got herself hitched in order to spend the rest of what was left in wedded bliss. Back at the traditional South American Family Atmosphere however, this went down like a stone filled tortilla. Not prone to accepting change easily…or well, Martas older sister…my Mother in law…did not take this huge change comfortably.

Marta has recently been re granted rights to visit the family home and she does daily though its with the understanding that “he” is not welcome. I often think of Marta and always with a bit of sorrow that her decisions were met with derision and unacceptance . But being much older than Marta its not likely my Mother in law will change her thoughts on this . And in her disgust she mouths those thoughts frequently…….

“ They only got married for the sex .”

I would like to introduce a young friend I’ve yet to meet and impatiently await that time in the not so distant future. This is young Wildasin and as of this writing it’s likely he’s totally unaware of the recent pronouncement that “He’s a Boy !! ” How wonderful to be so carefree that you know not what you are….and I can relate to my young friend as I know not what I am either. But I know what I’m not….I’m not a father and shall never be and so I must hopefully be permitted to share in the excitement of his coming vicariously . And I am Gods honest truth excited…..I’m excited for his parents who are at this very moment, I’m sure, plotting and planning and enjoying about the most special experience a human will ever experience.

But I’m excited for him too…..his timing is perfect. I believe he’s making the grand entrance at the end of a bad time and so shall be able to babble on to his grandchildren about “the good old days “ that he once knew.

Hurry up young Wildasin….we’re all anxious to see ya. And you may not know it….but very very soon….Dad will forgive you for putting a dent in his car.

The Home Depot apron sports two pouches on its front. Mine tends to become full of items the likes of pens and markers, notebooks, phones, odd plumbing fixtures, candy and a knife. All this stuff makes it extremely difficult to perform correctly at the urinal as the pouches hang low enough to be in the way creating the need for one hand to lift the apron while the other unzips causing items to leap from the stuffed pouches . Tonight it also carried my very first Home Depot badge to proudly wear on the apron. It’s the Yo Hablo Espanol badge and as I didn’t have time to attach it I tossed it in with all the other junk my pouches carry. Later, deep into my shift, I stood there answering the endless questions of an older couple trying to figure out the intricacies of a sprinkler system. They seemed clueless of my desire to scream out in the agony of the need to piss as I stood there alternating my weight from one foot to the other . Finally ridding myself of them I bee lined it for the porcelain idol and did my ritual apron dance before it.

Oh, the pen, being untraceable, is still there.

I start seeing guys like Trump demanding to see an original copy of a “Death Certificate“ and I’ll just plain wig right out.

“ The Pippa Middletons Ass Appreciation Society “

Well today a guy walked into my plumbing department with a sealed cellophane package containing a propane gas line…

“ Can ya hook me up with an adapter or nipple that will fit the end of this gas line….and do ya speak Spanish?” was what he said as he handed me the package.

Both sides of the package I quickly noted were written completely in Spanish except for a warning label and so I asked…

“ Where the hell did you pick this up….been to Cancun or something ?”

“Nah “ he said “Just picked it in the indoor garden section right here in the store.”

And then I noticed….it was made right here in the USA. Well that may well be cause for some celebration….though in all likely hood…it was still made by mexicans

“ What kind of connections do I need for this kitchen faucet ?” the man asked…. “Will it hook up like the one I have now?”

Both good questions to which I had no answer so I bluntly admitted….

“ I don’t know….lets open the box and see .”

“ Can you do that ?…I didn’t know you could do that.” he said

“ Who’s gonna stop me ?” I asked as I sliced through the security strap with my box cutter . And good thing I did as this new fangled thing was nothing he recognized as anything he could hook up to his existing plumbing leading us to the next victim. Well we gleefully sliced open a dozen boxes until we found both the desired plumbing configuration and color he required.

“ Thank you so much for all your help, I hope you don’t get in trouble for cutting the security bands off all those boxes .” he said

“ Don’t you worry Sir…at my money….. they can’t afford to fire me .”

He then asked if he might have the model of his choice in an unopened box.

“Absolutely Sir “ … and then I tossed all those security gizmos in the trash compactor where they will never humiliate some poor soul going out the front door after a cashier has neglected to remove it …..

Well the mail came again yesterday bringing with it a disconnect notice from my internet provider , and for the same reason I got one four months ago. I pay my bills diligently and on time but for some reason unknown the money…..on both occasions….went to some unknown account to languish unnoticed until I’m threatened with disconnect.

“ Ramps…ever had em? “ he asked

REPLY REQUESTED

It leered at me aggressively as its twins have a number of times in the past. This time it was actually addressed to Maggie and it was in fact mailed to our previous address but still somehow found its way to our box. It was filled with queries as to the truth of information on a W-2 sent to the previous address with a social security number one digit off from my wife’s and an amount of $340.00 . If the amount is not correct “ Please explain” it sort of demanded. This can not go well….we have no way to explain a W-2 we’ve never seen, nor recognize the amount, or even be able to explain a social security number one digit off….

And we have legitimate reasons to be fearful. You see the first year we were married we filed our income tax and were due a tax refund and that bit of money was sorely needed. Social Security promptly informed us that Maggie’s social security number and name did not correspond and so we went to the regional office in person to straighten this out, bringing copies of our marriage license and certificates from the church. Their advice was to re submit our taxes using the wife’s maiden name while they sorted all this out, and so we did. Our tax refund came quickly.

The following year our tax package arrived addressed to Richard Berthiaume and Margarita Ruiz but we filed jointly under Mr. and Mrs. Berthiaume, only to have it sent back with the excuse that Mags social security number didn’t correspond with her name causing yet again another trip to the regional Social Security headquarters. We followed this ritual for seven years, each year our 1040 being rejected and us resubmitting our taxes using Maggie’s maiden name and then heading out to the Regional Headquarters of Social Security to yet again rectify this annoyance until one blessed year…..we made so much we actually owed them money.

“ You write and sign the check “ I told Maggie….my thinking was that if they cashed it they would have to concede to the reality of a Margarita Berthiaume . Well they cashed it alright and from that day forward our tax package has been sent to Mr and Mrs Berthiaume.

I do hope this current glitch doesn’t require a check signed by Richard Ruiz to be straightened out……

Well after an incredibly long time that little dream has morphed into fruition ….no mortgage…..no car payment….no debt. I had always assumed this would be….well, Nirvana. But in truth, even with all that going for me….a retail job doesn’t cover the bills.

Every day three or four guys come up to me in the store to tell me they have been trying to get a job at HD. They are long time construction workers like myself who foolishly think those skills would be sought after by the likes of Home Depot….. even though they aren‘t sought after in the field….they are also men with degrees in engineering, men who have accomplished things in the past and I could go on infinitely over these daily desperate stories. And so I would like to impart a small modicum of advise to those who seriously seek a retail position here in the United States …..you need to fucken lie, plain and simple.

When you do the online app part of it will be some psychological evaluation with a series of questions and all the answers will be a multiple choice off ….

Strongly agree

Agree

Slightly agree

Slightly disagree

Disagree

Strongly disagree………..and I’m here to tell ya….you either strongly agree or you strongly disagree as there is no wishy washy middle of the road…ok?

Next is, should you run into the question…..

“ If your Mother worked in the store with you and you witnessed her steal something…..would you turn her in?

The answer of course, without hesitation, is…..

“You better believe I would .“……….

 in fact, it might even behoove you to set her up….just for the points

In our case here in SW Florida we all felt better when the President himself flew down and lined up a group of minorities holding a big check for a photo shoot and told us all…

“ Help is on its way” and this did certainly alleviate some of the uncertainty we all felt. Many had not only lost suitable habitation, but their lively hood as well and so teams of help appeared to encourage us to …..

“Sign on for your Emergency Devastated Area unemployment benefits now.”

Well we did just that and the wife was told that it wasn’t her bosses fault the building she worked in was destroyed and she was ineligible….I actually received one check before they demanded it back claiming it wasn’t the hurricanes fault I lost my job and so we both said….

“ Fine….cause we don’t need you.”

Guy across the street was fortunate in that his only loss was that his oak trees lost some limbs but as he had a grandchild living there FEMA cut him a check for $1200.00…guy behind us lost three roof shingles and FEMA immediately tossed him $800.00. We…the wife and I….were living in a home missing its ceilings, half its roof, inside walls and we watched the rain water run from the kitchen floor to the front door once a day. FEMA told us we were ineligible for any form of assistance and so we said……

“ Fine….cause we don’t need you.”

Weeks later when we had managed to obtain roof shingles the wife and I stripped what was left of our roof down to naked plywood when FEMA showed to put the big blue tarp over our house.

“ little late” I said… “But I’d sure appreciate you leaving that tarp behind as it will be raining hard in an hour and we’ve already suffered enough water damage”

“Sorry…we can only install it”

“ Fine….cause we don’t need you.”…..and as it turns out…we were right, we didn’t need any body. We rebuilt on our own and started the very day after the storm. We socialized at that time with a group who non stop criticized any form of “Leftist” Democrat hand out program touting their Conservative ideology and we were prone to agree. But we couldn’t help but feel the sting of the criticism we received from these very same ‘conservatives” for not taking advantage of the vouchers the Red Cross handed out….The beleaguered Red Cross workers, God love em, had no way to immediately ascertain the needs of every applicant thus allowing my “conservative” minded friends the opportunity to leap in line for the debit cards being issued even though they sustained little or no damage. They bought Play Stations and such nonsense and I’m hoping that’s not what happens in those recently tornado devastated states just a little north of here.

To those affected by the recent catastrophe…we’re praying for ya….

To those we used to socialize with…… screw you

“ Cause we don’t need you “

“ Hey man…really need a job with hours. Can’t even afford to get a flat fixed let alone register the thing.” And that was obviously true as I stood there looking at the tiny treadless donut wheel the guy was sporting on the front passenger side .

“ I can start ya Thursday morning 7 o’clock….how’s that sound ? ”

“ hhmmm….can ya make it next Monday ? “ And so Tony started the following Monday with the request that he might leave early on Tuesday to register the donut wheeled junker…..

Mike, a new transplant to Florida from Michigan came in response to a four day old add in the local paper….

“ Man , I know I’m late responding but I don’t suppose you still have an opening for a block layer ?” he seemed so apologetic ….

“ Course I do…you’re the first to respond . “ and he then wanted to rush to the car to retrieve for me a copy of his resume……

“ Mike…can ya make it through the day with out a beer ? “

“ Sure“….

“ Good, ya got the job “ “But what about the resume ? “ and he seemed perplexed that I had to repeat the previous question and on the strength of his answer hired him on the spot and without perusing his resume.

Then there is the likes of this….. The office calls to say

“ Rich…got a new laborer for you, he’ll be starting Tuesday and his name is Josh” and I’m thinking arms, legs and speaks English sounds good.

On Thursday…not Tuesday…35 minutes after starting time a “lump” with a 45 degree hat and hands in the pockets of his pants that lumped up around his ankles shuffled up on my concrete slab and I asked…

“ Who are you ?”

“ Like…..I’m working here Man”

“ Since when ?”

“ Starting today Man.”

“ You the guy that was supposed to start Tuesday ? “…I needed to know

“ You know what its like man….” he said with the shoulder shrug

“ I do and I’ve hired two guys since Tuesday…you can hit the road.”

“ Total fucken buzz kill Man…like my ride just dropped me off, how am I gonna get back to North Port ? “ and the answer was of course concise.

“ If ya had started on Tuesday…ya woulda had enough money for a fucken cab”

Being the last to leave that day I found a youth in a Honda with the seat reclined and studded jewelry all over his face next to my truck.

“ Hey Dude Man” he said…”Like, where’s Josh ?” and so I politely informed him that

“ Josh will be out in ten minutes, hang tight.”

ago just somehow sticks in my craw….

” What kanda tham frame ya lookin at on needin these stone ?” asked Leonard, and so I said I was likely at the mercy of his schedule but sooner is better than later. Giving me the Appalachia Mountain Man steeley eyed squint Leonard says…..

” Well…Ah gotstsa load em on the truck ya know?” my response of course was

“After that 20 minutes is up….then what?”……causing Leonard to lean forward to come eye to eye so he could inform me that……

” Ah lived in these mountains before there was a dollar to be made….an no one come here.”         Inner city or country…the game is played the same and so offered ……

” Well, now that someone has come here…..and there is a dollar to be made….how ya feel about making it ?”

An hour and a half later I was at the job on top of that mountain when I could hear Leonards 1970s Chevy dump lumbering up that dirt road down in the ravine until it came to a stop 1000 ft below to loudly grind into a low gear for the final assault on a some what vertical last stretch .

” There’s yer rock” he said and, I thanked him much as I handed him a check knowing that the thought it might bounce was not even considered by him as he had lived his life in a place where a mans word was worthy of trust

I could never spend my whole life here….but I’m very proud such places still exist in America

“ Rich, we have to cut some hours and will have to send some people home early….you see the store didn’t do so well last week and we have to make up for it .”….a poor week being one that only pulls in 60 – 70 thousand dollars a day. And so four of us went home three hours early saving the company…or family… a whopping $120.00 in U.S. greenbacks while instilling in me some pride in the fact that I could help my “new family” in such a meaning full way. It worked out well as I had a little tile job to do and was having a hard time finding an extra moment to get on over to Lowes to buy my tile. You see, my new family doesn’t offer an employee discount, yet Lowes regularly sends me substantial coupons to successfully attract family members like me into the store……

Having said all this I would like it known I am definitely not a disgruntled employee….I have fun at my job…..but as a loyal American, I might urge you to shop at Ace Hardware at every opportunity……

And I’m thinking that as we have no Union there is no one to prevent me from maybe offering them $30 bucks one day next week to let me leave early during a busy spell…..I’m sure they could use the dough , and I can go set those tile….