Easy Come, Easy Go
16/07/12 20:42
First it was his job. Then it was his wisdom teeth. All four of those puppies. Gone. What's next? Let's back up a little here. He was just four weeks into his first official job. Yeah, he worked as an assistant counselor at that camp in upstate NY but that doesn't really count. He matriculated into that position. He had to apply for the job in downtown Portsmouth and that is what he did. He did it so well, in fact, that he got the position. Maybe it was the tie. How many dishwashers show up for an interview wearing a tie? They probably figured that he was either a nut job or just really wanted the position. In retrospect, when they asked him what hours he wanted to work, he probably should have told them that he was available to work whatever. Instead, with his eye on his social calendar, he volunteered for weekends. Better to keep those weekdays free for hanging with his friends, going to the beach, etc..
So, when the time came to hack the staff due to a lack of business, it was an easy decision. Mr. bow tie had to go. They didn't have the common decency to call him into the office to give him the bad news. They sent him a text. What kind of manager fires his employees by sending them a text? Maybe I'm just out of touch. Ev took it like a man, though. I assured him that he would have many jobs in his lifetime and moving on was not necessarily a bad thing. It seemed to register when he heard the words but I'm not sure he connected the dots in his mind. Some day he will remember my words. One can only hope.
As for his teeth, he complained about them hurting when they were coming in but not much after that. Even the dentist's couldn't agree amongst themselves as to whether or not they had to come out. One said they should come out and the other said it wasn't necessary. It seems like once Evan had it in his head that they had to go it was just a matter of time before they were taken out. He became almost eager to have them out even after they stopped aching. It was the funniest thing. And, not in the ha-ha sense of the word. It was almost as though he wanted to have a good reason to lay in bed for an extended period of time watching television and texting with his friends. Or, maybe he wanted to have his own war stories to share with his buds. Maybe, just maybe, it was a plea for help. If he wanted to extricate himself from that band of bad boys he has been hanging with, it would require something extreme. Something bad enough to take him out of circulation just long enough that they mighht learn to get along without him. He's not saying and we're not asking.
And, what about that guy down at the harbor? The guy who dropped his radio overboard and spent the better part of the next hour imploring boaters and fisherman alike to assist him in his hour of need. It was a spectacle only because word spread quickly and even those who watched from afar either overheard or saw for themselves and pieced it together. I think we overheard one fisherman say that the radio "was toast." Why bother retrieving something that was not likely to work again. And then your imagination takes over. Maybe it belonged to a friend. Maybe this. Maybe that. The boat was not an expensive boat and he may have spent more on the radio than he did on the boat. It was not a pleasant situation in the least and I felt a little bad taking even the slightest enjoyment in the drama that continued to unfold. The woman with him seemed equally embarrassed and helpless at the same time. Never straying far from his side, she was there for morale support but would not be taking the plunge for him or anyone else. Her arms were folded and not lightly. Someone finally handed him a snorkel and mask and he finally slipped into the murky depths to retrieve his radio. Easier said than done. Not sure why he never gave it another go. Maybe it was scarier down there than he thought. Maybe he saw the futility in his actions more clearly beneath the surface and out of earshot of the crowds that had slowly assembled over time at the end of the pier. It was time for us to leave. I suspect he and his woman friend did the same.
So, when the time came to hack the staff due to a lack of business, it was an easy decision. Mr. bow tie had to go. They didn't have the common decency to call him into the office to give him the bad news. They sent him a text. What kind of manager fires his employees by sending them a text? Maybe I'm just out of touch. Ev took it like a man, though. I assured him that he would have many jobs in his lifetime and moving on was not necessarily a bad thing. It seemed to register when he heard the words but I'm not sure he connected the dots in his mind. Some day he will remember my words. One can only hope.
As for his teeth, he complained about them hurting when they were coming in but not much after that. Even the dentist's couldn't agree amongst themselves as to whether or not they had to come out. One said they should come out and the other said it wasn't necessary. It seems like once Evan had it in his head that they had to go it was just a matter of time before they were taken out. He became almost eager to have them out even after they stopped aching. It was the funniest thing. And, not in the ha-ha sense of the word. It was almost as though he wanted to have a good reason to lay in bed for an extended period of time watching television and texting with his friends. Or, maybe he wanted to have his own war stories to share with his buds. Maybe, just maybe, it was a plea for help. If he wanted to extricate himself from that band of bad boys he has been hanging with, it would require something extreme. Something bad enough to take him out of circulation just long enough that they mighht learn to get along without him. He's not saying and we're not asking.
And, what about that guy down at the harbor? The guy who dropped his radio overboard and spent the better part of the next hour imploring boaters and fisherman alike to assist him in his hour of need. It was a spectacle only because word spread quickly and even those who watched from afar either overheard or saw for themselves and pieced it together. I think we overheard one fisherman say that the radio "was toast." Why bother retrieving something that was not likely to work again. And then your imagination takes over. Maybe it belonged to a friend. Maybe this. Maybe that. The boat was not an expensive boat and he may have spent more on the radio than he did on the boat. It was not a pleasant situation in the least and I felt a little bad taking even the slightest enjoyment in the drama that continued to unfold. The woman with him seemed equally embarrassed and helpless at the same time. Never straying far from his side, she was there for morale support but would not be taking the plunge for him or anyone else. Her arms were folded and not lightly. Someone finally handed him a snorkel and mask and he finally slipped into the murky depths to retrieve his radio. Easier said than done. Not sure why he never gave it another go. Maybe it was scarier down there than he thought. Maybe he saw the futility in his actions more clearly beneath the surface and out of earshot of the crowds that had slowly assembled over time at the end of the pier. It was time for us to leave. I suspect he and his woman friend did the same.