Too Much Salt

It was frigid at the dump this morning. The motley crew had laid down a thick layer of rock salt on the access road to provide some traction on the black ice that coated every surface. Too much salt. I made a mental note to chastise the miscreants at the morning staff meeting.

I had been holding regular meetings since the minor uprising last week to ease tensions. You may have missed it, so let me recap. It started when I announced that I was outsourcing the cardboard recycle contract to a foreign-owned company. You'd have thought I had said I was selling Rockafeller plaza to the Japs, judging from the outcry of neo-patriotic histrionics.

"Your selling out your fellow Americans," yelled Bill "You're not playing fair."
"Hey, guys - remember we are a global dump playing in the real world," I explained patiently. "Sometimes you need to consider the economics of the situation. This is not a dumpfare state."
"Next you'll be importing cheap immigrant dumpstaff." It was George with his knowing smirk. Had he been reading my email? It was true that I was considering hiring some buxom Irish illegals, but how could he know that?
"Well, none of you guys wants to work in the HAZMAT Take and Leave area. I need people to do the work that you guys wont do."

That shut them up.

The Winter Olympics are over. I was encouraged by the picture in the newspaper of the closing ceremonies. I guess it's safe to watch NBC again. What a collosal yawn it is to watch some obsessed thin person on an ego trip down an icy mountain. Like America Idol, i cannot understand why people seem to like watching these reality shows? Reality is not fun, I mused, thinking of my recent lunch with the boys.

In an effort to raise morale I had come up with the idea of going out with the lads for friendly lunches. I figured that if they could see me as an ordinary person, not just the Boss, our communications would improve. But this scheme had not worked out either.

A couple of us had agreed to go offsite to try out the new Chinese restaurant for lunch. The plan was to meet at 12:00 noon precisely. When I got there exactly on time, I was astounded to see that Bill and George were already eating.

It was like a scene from Seinfeld. Picture Kramer and Elaine arriving at the restaurant early. Kramer never wears a watch and Elaine is always early or late. They find themselves seated at a table with menus and water 10 minutes early. Instead of engaging in polite conversation while waiting for the third party (George Costanza) to arrive, they just order and begin eating. Naturally, when George arrives, he throws a tantrum. ("What. You couldn't wait a few minutes?")
Finally, he gets his meal, but he cannot hide his bruised ego. Tears well up in his eye. He makes up an excuse that he had eye surgury that very morning. Everyone knows he is a liar and a grudge hoarder. The scene is funny because the characters are rude and outrageous. It's a sitcom script not reality.

What actually happened was even more bizarre. After the "lunch" was over, I mentioned to Bill that it is customary to wait until the scheduled time for all members of a party to appear. He said that he had decided to unilaterally change the time because he needed to be somewhere else. Besides, the waiter had pulled a gun when he asked them if they were ready to order and said, "Not right now, we have a third party coming in just a few minutes."
"You order now!" he had instructed them, waving his Glock Magnum at them.
Kramer thought I was being a little shrill in my expression of annoyance, and suggested that perhaps something was wrong with me for feeling insulted.

Thinking back on it, I confess it was a bit awkward. The noon time sun was dazzling and when I came in the restaurant, I hesitated, momentarily, letting my eyes adapt to the inside light. Then seeing them there, together, sitting side by side (instead of across, like guys usually do)smiling, gabbing and gobbling up their lunch just like no one else had been expected to join them; it almost seemed as though I had intruded on a brokeback mountain moment.

I made a note for the morning staff meeting. Reassign Bill to working with Lardass on dumpster duty instead of on George's compost crew. It wasn't payback; I just needed to get control of a dicey situation.