The View From Scranton

Call Me Hood (No Such Luck)

Eddie's one of those perennial also-rans who never was, never would, and never will be. Less than almost, far short of not quite, and not even in league with maybe. He's at most a spec on the windscreen, at least an ignorable blip in the corner of the eye. At worse he is what he is: a devout UGHell boy without portfolio. Without position. Without props. Without even a liveable wage.

That means of course he's with a lot of anger and attitude and orn.

Too bad for him.

My word for him: Whatever happened in your life, buddy. I didn't do it. So leave me out of it.

Eddie, though, can't take know for an answer. Bitter 'cause he's again and again been passed over for promotion. Bitter 'cause the bosses still consider him disposable. King-comed Edward's bittered himself right outta his battered mind. That leaves him the mindless, thankless, thoughtless tasks of the tradeless. And since he's been left deep-breathing toxins and bullshit for lo these many moons with no even unreal reward, not-so-Fast Eddie takes it upon himself to be both toxic and full of bullshit.

To the help.

That of course means me. Me and the temp brethren brought in by the Agency from the State halfway houses and County work centers of Scranton. Since we're all being kept on very short nooses, none of us make even the slightest of contrary moves. After all, even perceived contrarity could ring our necks back to the panoply of pens from whence we came.

I too tend to keep my eyes to the grind and my big mouth shut, 'cause I too wanna remain at large. But sometimes even a noose isn't enough to muzzle me, and I just gotta speak my piece.

So yesterday, when dead Ed said: You, go get me a handtruck. I went and got him a handtruck.

Then I replied: Call me Hood. Call me John. Call me J Hood. Call me JH. Call me any name you want. But I am not You.

Wrong said Ed of course didn't get the crack, let alone the cut. And took the whole thing into his outta conscious.

Are you picking on me?

No. I'm merely stating the obvious.

Well, it's obvious you don't have to work here anymore.

And I smiled. And I grinned. And I thanked my lucky stars for all the unlucky idiots in the world who'd let a little nothing get me outta nowhere. And today when I woke and walked to the job, it was with a decidedly skippery step 'cause I expected to receive the papers that'd leave me walking elsewhere. But No Such Luck. For when I got to the job my time card was there among 100 other time cards and the big boss standing by the time clock didn't give me The Nod. In fact, he didn't even give me a nod, that's how inconsequential I am. And apparently that's just how necessarily inconsequential I am to the company. The company of fools.

posted by John Hood. @ 12:23 AM