What do you mean, I didn’t get the job? The old man was beside himself. There were two of him there. And both of him were humiliated.
How do you get rejected for a job you are too good for and don’t really even want? What has this world come to?
Colonel Amick was as nice as nice can be. But apparently the list of old white men with nothing better to do than raise a gate and lower a gate for eight hours was so long, you wouldn’t believe. And everybody, you can’t imagine, wanted to drive a pickup around the community all night long. Especially if the truck had a spotlight and red revolving lights on the roof.
Desperate to get out of the house and they don’t even need minimal money. That is so sad, he thought.
The Colonel said the old man just had to work his way up the ladder, wait for his time to come. Be patient. Nothing the Colonel can do. His hands are tied.
Which got the old man thinking. How about I really tie your hands, huh, how ’bout that. Then maybe I light your ass on fire.
***
A Friday night and the young redhead is on her second glass of wine. Another loud sigh as she vented the work week’s toxins. So, the old man asked, because that’s what he knew he should do. Anything good happen today?
Seems the wife was in the ER when a woman is rolled in through the front door from a limousine, a stretch Hummer. Wife hears about the shiny gold shoes in the hospital’s dining room. Down at the far end where the employees congregate, gossip and chow down.
Seems the lady in the stretch Hummer was suffering from an overdose of too much party. And she was wearing shiny gold shoes.
The gold shoes, his wife explained, are said to be a signal, code for ‘I’m Available.’ Available for what, the old man wondered. You know, she said. Oh, the old man said. He was a big fan of ‘you know.’ Big fan. I don’t have any gold shoes, he conceded.
Funny thing, you’ll like this, she said. The woman is Colonel Amick’s wife.
***
The Colonel agreed it was nice of the old man to donate a new specially-equipped patrol vehicle to the force. And, of course, he could have the Monday through Thursday midnight shift on patrol. No problem.
Too much action going down on Fridays and Saturdays, too many eyes out. And Sunday was His day. Sunday, the old man liked his beer and his sports and his nap and ‘you know.’