Against All Animus

I knew it was going to be another grueling day at the dump. My ass was on the grill again. A former dump staffer had gone public with a new book loaded with accusations and imputations regarding my priorities here at the RDF. I had enemies on the Board and they were - no doubt - salivating over the prospect of seeing me skewered, roasted and devoured by wolves. (Not a great metaphor, I must admit, but I am not in the mood for literary correctness at a time like this.)

I was at my desk munching a sandwich and reading the book entitled "What I saw: Wasted at the Dump." It was an unflattering indictment of me personally, and my management practices. It described me as "fat-faced Irishman"; Describing my appearance as "A body double for Ted Kennedy". Worse, the book, detailed many of my shortcomings as a recycling and disposal facility manager. It cited the briberies, the illegal body dumpings, the misuse of trash, and discriminatory hiring practices.

The author, a former yard man named Richard Head, had been laid-off several years ago (pre-blog). We had ramped-up our facility to handle the dot com boom. Citizens in this posh suburb of Boston were making money hand over fist, buying stuff to beat the band; which of course resulted in increased mounds of trash and re-usable discards. Hey, all boats rise with the tide, so we needed to hire more help.

Hiring Dick Head was a mistake from day one. He had a lean and hungry look about him. By contrast, most of us - Me, Lardass, George, Bill and Lonny - look very well-fed; and even our rookie Rajeed looks like he enjoys his beer and pasta.

But Dick Head did not fit in with our culture. He was all "Lets follow the rules." "Citizens should get first shot at take and leave items" , "Toxic waste should be trucked to New Hampshire and dumped in remote areas" (who has time to drive all the way to the Granite State?). He checked every vehicle for dump stickers. He wouldn't let non-residents in - even though they offered some tempting cash bribes. He was a bureaucrat. A rule-follower. (Many of the customers were calling him The Dump Nazi. ) He never told dirty jokes, he kept his political opinions private (his daddy had warned him not to argue about religion or politics) . He didn't fit in.

We had all agreed that he was the skunk at our lawn party. So, I decided to lay him off. He did not take it well. At the termination interview, he complained that it seemed strange that he - the best worker - was being let go, but Lardass and George who spent most of their time on break, and Bill who usually called-in sick, were allowed to remain on the staff. I tried to finesse that point, mumbling phrases like "Team player" , "Synergy", and "Flexibility" and finished reading him his rights. Finally, I took his badge and then escorted him silently to the gate. As we passed the work areas all the dumpfucks stood with their backs turned to him as if to ignore the shame of his existence.

That was nearly four years ago. Now, the kiss-and-tell Book. Dick Head was getting even.
The phone on my desk rang. I figured It was the board Chairman, probably calling to fire my ass. I have never shied from confrontation, and I picked up the phone.
"Yellow, " I growled.
"Hey man. It's me. Guess what I found?" The signal was weak, and the static sounded like a Geiger- counter. I recognized Lardass's voice, calling on his cheap refurb cell phone.
"Yeah. What do you want?" I didn't have time for chit chat games.
"I found them. You know - the peeshtx of peeshiz destrctphiz." The static was terrible.
"What the heck are you saying, I can't understand. You're breaking-up."
There was a pause that lasted a few minutes while all I could hear was Lardass panting as he moved to a higher place trying to get a stronger signal.
"Can you hear me now? .I'm on top of the 'dozer."
"Yup, I can hear you fine. What was it you found?"
"Well, I was poking around the Y250K area, where we stored all that arab plutonium a few years ago...."
I recalled the area. No one had worked over there for a long time. It was posted with Hazardous Warnings "Radioactive Material Do not enter until June, 248000" Some of the materials have a half life of 250,000 years. Now, I remember, we were experimenting with our HazMat Insourcing Program back then. We had handled a large secret shipment of waste from somewhere, maybe Syria - I could not remember exactly. We just stored the containers and forgot about them. No one was allowed to go near because of the radioactive hazard.
"You shouldn't be there."
"I know, but you'll never guess what I found..."
"What?"
"The fucking WMD's"