Good Times Create Weak Men

I don’t get it. I stared at the half full beer glass on the bar and wondered why I even came in. That’s the way it always worked in the movies - when life kicked you in the balls - you go to the bar and drown your sorrows. I looked around and there were a few sorry a-holes just like me…only older… and none of them looked very happy.

I just don’t get it, half a beer later and half an hour staring at it. I always get what I want. Always did. In school I had self discipline, I worked hard and got good marks. I developed good habits and worked at the Home Depot after school. When I got off work I ran. Did my first marathon last year and a death race or two since. I’d been offered scholarships and qualified for others to go to university. I gave the high school councillors Tourette’s when I decided to join the Army and enlist as a grunt... “At least - go to Westpoint! Become an officer…!”. But…I can hit the books any time I wanted to…I wanted my own life experience. I wanted to do my time and make my own way - the way I did everything else. The way my Dad did. With my own hard work, blood, sweat, and tears. I’d do my stint, see where I was and if I wanted to be a lifer like Dad… doors would be open for me. If not - then I’d go back to school. Mother had a bird too. But…gah. I need to forget it all. I need to take stock, re-orient, look at my options and come up with new life goals. It ain’t fair, it ain’t right… but it’s life.

But… Hell’s bells! How the fuck did a guy like me fail all the basic medical, aptitude and pre-screening tests? Shit, I’d been training hard for the last frickin YEAR for the PT. The recruiter couldn’t believe his luck when I walked in the door when I came to enlist. If you have a pulse and can walk, talk and go to the washroom without hanging onto the walls or missing the pot… you were in like Flynn. Recruiting was so bad they’d take anyone… or so I was told…

The waitress came by and I ordered a coffee. I don’t need booze. I needed to pull my head out of my ass and start thinking about what I was going to do. I started scrolling the ‘help wanted’ ads on my cell. I needed to find a place to live, too. Hmmmm … I’d definitely consider the trades…but everyone wanted experience, and nobody wanted to pay for it and near as I could tell… there weren’t any apprenticeships advertised either. Tomorrow I’d pound the pavement, and walk in to talk with people to see what was available. Sometimes you couldn’t wait to be offered work - you had to ask for it. And adults love to talk and give advice to a young guy who can shut his mouth and listen. But…looking at the ads on my phone…the only avenues open at the moment were in stacking boxes in a warehouse, short order cookery and other dead end scut work. I sighed. It’s like anything else, I told myself. Ya gotta walk before ya run. I’d put in applications at all the box stores, look for a place to rent or board, and beat the bushes to see what comes out. But now…I needed to go for a run. My legs itched to be stretched, and I think better when I run. When I settled up with the waitress I asked her if she knew if there were any reasonable places a guy might rent or board? As luck would have it she said she might - and told me to come by tomorrow. “There,” I told myself, “Things are starting to happen already. All ya gotta do is the work and put your time in..”

****

Two days later I scored a part time job at a lumber yard starting immediately. I dipped into my savings and bought some steel toe boots and gloves. The shop foreman at the tire shop said he might have a part time position available too and invited me for an interview later in the week. If I strung my part time jobs together I might even be able to replenish my savings. The waitress at the bar offered me an old couch in her basement for basically paying some of the utilities. I paid water, internet, electric and gas for the small home, bought my own grub…so for now I was solid. Not bad, I congratulated myself. It was a start, and for now - that was all I needed. 

****

It was gonna be a short day today. I did four hours at the lumber yard, the manager at the tire shop didn’t have anything for me to do so I just hung out in the garage and idly pushed a broom while we shot the shit. I told Dale I was now on a mission: I was either going to be a mechanic or a machinist. One a the customers and daily visitors piped up and grumped that the modern machinist today is nothing more than a tool head changer with the advent of CNC. I suppose it’s like that for everything now though…mechanics now let the computerized cars trouble shoot themselves. The trick seemed to be getting in to adjust or replace the parts - and getting out again and getting everything back in place. But it’s like anything. You can put gas in the car and drive it to work and back…but where is the reward in that? What if you could understand it, and be able to fix it, or modify it to go faster, or handle better, or look flashier…? There is all kinds of room for inspiration and even  expression in life. How deep are you willing to go, and how hard are you willing to work at it? Wouldn’t it be great if a guy could build his own car?

My cell went off, and I knew who it was by the ringtone. I’d set it up so that when Mom called, instead of ringing, it made the sound of an obnoxious ah-Oogah horn. It was a small petty dig at mom but with her…you gave what you got or she’d walk all over you. “Hey, Mom,” I answered, and headed to the boss’s office to get away from the shop noise. 

“So how’s the family’s intrepid little green bean United States Marine?” She asked peevishly. Poor Mom almost had a stroke when I told her I was going to enlist. It was bad, the tears, the sobbing and histrionics but especially after losing Dad… even I could forgive her. 

“I wouldn’t know, Mother, all I know for sure is that I disgraced the family and they washed me out! I didn’t even get the Boot hair cut or get to scrub a toilet or push a mop!”

I savoured her confusion for a bit but then explained that yes, I really did wash out. At first she was relieved; but then her bitter and twisted nature kicked in. “So…how could you FAIL before they even got a look at you Paddie? You got honours in school, you were a star athlete…and they washed you out???

“Yes! Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, Don’t call us, we’ll call you-“

Really,” she said in that pissy tone she took when I was a kid and trying to get away with something. “Paddie, I know it’s hard, dear, but I want you to think really, REALLY hard about this. It’s very important.  Is there something about all this you’re not telling me? Think hard, son…” She used to talk like that when I was a child. That was Momspeak for, “If I find out you’re responsible for this pile of BS I’m seeing…you will get the very hell of it!” And lord, that bloody woman could unleash hell when she put her mind to it! Especially after Dad passed.

“Yes, Mother Dearest,” I said condescendingly. “Look - all I know is that they did the medical and said I have a heart murmur, and that I lacked the attributes and aptitudes they’re currently looking for..."

“A heart murmur??? And you lacked the prerequisites for a... a... buck private????” I could hear cold fury in her voice. "And you FAILED the aptitude tests for a private in the army..."

"I know, right? I think that some files might have gotten mixed up or maybe a diversity hire did some African American administration or something? How proud, you must be, Mother - of your retarded son! Whatever will you tell your friends at the coffee club? Poor Dad will be spinning in his grave..."

"Don't even start with me Paddy! And don't speak of your... FATHER... in that way. He passed every test they put in front of him and they killed him - same as I am going to do to you if you don't smarten up and watch your mouth."

I sighed. Mother was in a froth. It was ever and always the same with us. If she didn't push my buttons... I pushed hers. The words were out and away before I could even think of them. "Don't worry about your darling young son, Mother. Right now I am pursuing vastly rewarding careers in retail tire sales and/or home improvement! Not only that - I have scored some opulent and posh lodgings that will make you positively GREEN with envy."

"I'm so happy for you Paddie. I don't know what any of that actually means but you are boring me now with your droll humour. It appears I now have some dire things that need looking into and some skulls that need to be cracked. Look - I'll be in touch soon. Can I trust you NOT to do anything else stupid in the meantime? If a strange man offers to sell you drugs, you know what to say, right?"

"Yes, Mother," I said dryly. Serves me right, I pushed her buttons, she pushed mine. Nothing changes. "Before you run, Mom... could I borrow $1500.00? I want to get a full body tattoo-"

But... the phone clicked as Mom hung up. The woman vexxed me, always. Nothing existed outside her world. If it did, she either conquered it and made it part of her domain or she destroyed it. And now I was venturing outside that world... and I wonder how she's going to handle it?