Scratch Beginnings_ Me, $25, and the Search for the American Dream - Adam W. Shepard [85]
In an effort to prove his point, he loved incorporating clichés into his arguments. Unfortunately for him, though, he would frequently misuse them or create his own philosophical rendition, leaving his audience even more confused. When he would talk about not counting something valuable before you have it, he would say, “Ha! See. That’s what you get when your chickens done hatched, but you ain’t count ’em yet.” Or one time, we were talking about turning a minor issue into a major one, and he said, “Shit. You already got plenty of molehills. You might as well build your own mountain. You know what I’m sayin’?” Hmmmm. Derrick and I would ask him if he really meant “make a mountain out of a molehill,” but he would just shrug it off. “Y’all don’t get it. Never mind.”
Apparently, he had plenty of people that did get it, though. BG had a thousand friends, and most of them lived in our neighborhood. I know, because there was always somebody knocking on our door, at all times of the day. “Is BG here? No? Mind if I come in and chill until he gets back?” Everybody loved BG. In social settings, he was fun and easygoing and always good for a laugh. BG and I could sit around and have the most ridiculous discussions, and in the end he would have me lying on the couch curled up in laughter.
With that said, however, the first month with BG was tough. We weren’t on the same page as far as getting the place squared away. I had a few extra dollars that I wanted to put toward communal items like dishes, pots and pans, cleaning supplies, and decorative items for the living room, but he didn’t want to splurge. He was a cheapskate, he knew it, and he didn’t care. So, I had to buy everything, which wasn’t a huge deal beyond the fact that I had wanted to get us in the habit of pulling our own weight. I should have fought harder in the beginning, because for the duration of our time as roommates, I was always the one buying paper towels or dish liquid, and he was always the one “borrowing” toilet paper or a glass of milk. He would spend $15 a day or more on cigarettes and beer and lottery tickets, but he never had a bar of soap.
BG was having a tough time working his way in with the management at Fast Company. His attitude was varied. One week he was on fire, going in to the shop ready to work, but then the next week he was a completely different person.
And that’s how it was with so many of the guys at work. Rarely did a day go by without some sort of drama at the shop in the morning.
Some of the guys had a good attitude, while others fueled the two-way turmoil between the management and the employees.
Some guys got in to the shop early, got their work orders, and hit the road. Others arrived at the shop close to 9:00 A.M.—the time when we were supposed to arrive at the customer’s house. Others, still, would be on the schedule and wouldn’t show up. No call, no message; just wouldn’t feel like working that day.
Some came in uniform, ready to work, while others constantly tested the system.
What was Jed going to do? Fire them? Not a chance. It would cost him more money to fire a mover, hire a new one, and then train him than it would to just accept the lack of respect that he was getting from certain employees.
Derrick was always looking out for BG, so, after a while, in mid-December, he invited him to join our crew at Fast Company. BG wasn’t getting the hours he wanted by floating around from crew to crew, and since he knew that he would get sent out pretty much every day with us, he jumped at the opportunity when Derrick offered it to him.
And it was awful from the start. It’s tough to work and live together,