George the new guy – nicknamed Gorgeous George by Bi-Bob – had a good line tonight. Bi-Bob had just been awarded the $40 comp to the coffee shop for being named graveyard Employee of the Month and we were discussing who he would take.
“So who’s the lucky guy gonna be, Bob?”
The big news is the Spike Era is over! I am not making that up. She was let go Saturday morning. I was in dispatch when 88Dick called and said he needed Spike in the office. Well, OK. We saw her cleaning out her locker and she came and shook my hand and said good-bye and that was that.
I was a Mary unit last night and I hadn’t driven ten feet before disaster struck: I had a flat rear tire.
Fabulous. I have little experience changing flats, preferring to call AAA, and none on a Toyota Tacoma, so I was obliged to fumble my way through it while Ted stood and laughed at me.
The supervisors are rotating again as 88TonyM replaces 88Dick, though we are keeping 77Dwayne till May. 88TonyM likes to give the impression he is a gruff old man, but he actually has a dry sense of humor.
Ted, Jo(s)e and I had zero calls outside, though Ted and I did respond to a mess in the hotel, and showed the biggest flaw in Ted’s game, his temper. I was at 482 when X-Ray, patrolling on 11, comes across a man and a woman fighting in the hall. It was so bad the woman tried to kick the guy in the crotch. X-Ray steps in and says “Hey” and the guy starts yelling at X-Ray, calling him a bunch of filthy names most of which having to do with the fact X-Ray is black. So he radios for help, saying the couple has gone into their room and he wants to move the guy out.
White Sox Metzger, also on 482, and I get up there and we are handling the situation in our typical low-key, authoritative manner when Ted comes storming, yelling and screaming about how this is his house and everyone has ten minutes to pack up and get the fuck out.
This is not what the situation needed at all. The guy is already embarrassed and now he’s pissed to boot. This is so much like sports’ officiating it isn’t even funny, where a confrontational attitude with a coach will buy you a confrontation right now and Ted has gone and purchased us one.
There was no reason for this. We are going to win the argument. If the International Henry Unit’s say you gotta find another place to stay, you’re gonna find another place to stay; it’s that simple. We can do this the easy way or the hard way and, for the moment at least, the choice is yours, though in a while it won’t be.
Coming in yelling and screaming, though, eliminates the easy way because you’ve given the guest a reason to be pissed at us and you never know how a guest is going to react in this situation. I mean, he could have a gun in his bag and if he does it had better be field stripped because I will need the reassembly time to unholster my weapon and be in a position to fire.
I did manage to lighten matters up, though. The guy was trying to get back on our good side by telling us how we were “just a bunch of fucking jack-off security guards” and X-Ray was all but fired and how we “only make a fucking quarter” of what he made.
I hold up an index finger.
“A fifth, sir. We probably make a fifth of what you make. Maybe a tenth, judging by your nice luggage.”
He took me seriously!
“You’re right!” he said, pointing a finger at me. “You guys don’t make shit, do you?”
I shook my head dismissively, as if this were obvious to even the most casual observer. He then went back to his rant.
But that was it. At 0445 I’m driving around the top level of the garage bored silly, thinking that driving off it at a high rate of speed might liven up matters a bit when it hit me I came in at 2200 and thus get off in just over an hour and that kept me awake the rest of the night.
Here is your Henry lineup for tonight:
Henry 1 – OMP
Henry 2 – moi
Henry 3 – White Sox Metzger
It’s going to be a great night. I’ve had little sleep all week because of umpiring commitments, but I had a full day of sleep today and will have a great workout here in a bit and will be humming on all cylinders.