(written by Arin, edited and enhanced by Molly)
"But Judy... it's just a junk yard," my Dad argued.
"Dad, we shouldn't be arguing about this," I rebutted. "First of all, your doctor says that arguing is bad for your health, and you should just be taking it easy. And second of all, it's due to your declining health that I dropped the job that I'd had for a year in that other city to move back home here and take over the family business. And by the way, I can see why you like to call it a junk yard, because everything is just dumped everywhere, willy-nilly. It's called a 'metal recycling yard' and its difficult to perform that task if no one knows where anything is."
"But a computer? And some sort of sheet?" he inquired.
"Yes, Dad. You appointed me as the yard manager, so I'm going to use my computer to create what are called spreadsheets to bring some order to the yard."
"Is that why you put those big signs up?"
"Yes, Dad. I want to organize the space into clearly marked 'zones' so we can start sorting the stock. Up until now, loads can in and were just dumped anywhere. Now we'll carefully sort loads into my zones. So far the most obvious ones are 'Zone C' for the cars, 'Zone T' for the trucks, 'Zone A' for aluminum, and finally "Zone M' for mixed random metals. We take in almost anything metal, but this sorting will provide room for improvement of knowledge of the stock."
"And just how will that help?" he asked, curious now.
"In my spreadsheets it will show the model and year of the car or the truck and some notes about what is missing. So if a client wants to know if we have a fender, door or even a windshield for a '78 Chevy, we'll know right away."
"And how will that stuff get sorted in the first place?" he wanted to know.
"The current crew has a lot of slack time. I'll give them clipboards with tear sheets so they can start moving items from the main piles to these new appointed areas and note what they find available. If items are too damaged to be usable, they go to the mixed random metals area, and maybe we'll learn it'll be more efficient to even subdivide that area to send lots for smelting if enough piles up. I'll be entering the information into the spreadsheets. Over the long term, this will save us time, like when we know we want to ship out a load of aluminum out for smelting." He just shook his head, a little incredulous, but he stopped arguing.
The crew was actually pleased to have something to do, and glad to see some order finally coming into focus as they worked. I was busy figuring out the best way to record our information in a sort of shorthand. Over time things started to take shape -- so much so that I had to hire another person just to help keep the spreadsheets updated. After interviewing a few people with computer skills, I hired a young woman about my age. Her name was Sue, and she was nice looking and had a good personality, so we got along great. She caught on about the system I was using, and soon was very good on the computer, keeping it up to date so that things could be found.
It wasn't very long before, elated, I noticed our profits were up 15 present and the yard really started to look orderly. My Dad was surprised, and happy.
Early in Spring, a flatbed came in with a local cop car, designated 'C-086' appeared at our gates. The car's engine had seized and was officially retired from the streets. Curious, I went out to look at it. The car's body was OK, but it was stripped of its equipment, like its radio and the roof light bar.
It didn't come with any keys since its engine was useless, but I wanted to make sure there was nothing in the trunk. I had the car moved to 'Zone C' where it was unloaded from the flatbed. "The crew can take their time here with good old C-086," I mumbled quietly. "I'll have them dismount the engine and drain its fluids so we can see what scrap metal it might yield. Now what might we have back here?" I released the trunk latch and checked out its compartment. The trunk looked pretty barren, with the spare tire and jack equipment already removed.
However, I noticed there was a gap between the trunk floor and the body of the car. "I wonder if anything got overlooked>" I asked myself. I searched the gap on one side and found an old rag. In the other side, my gloved hand hit an object and I managed after a bit of effort to pull it out. It was leather case, about the size of a large book. I unzipped it and inside it I found a set of handcuffs and leg cuffs with their keys. I smiled, knowing the car and anything inside it was officially signed off as scrap. So this leather case and its contents were now mine.
I realized it was getting late so I closed the case and the trunk. Looking around, I quickly headed toward the office with my prize, storing it in my car so I could examine it more closely at home later. Sue was just about ready to leave, so I ask, "Hey, would you like to come over for a movie and pizza tonight?" This wasn't too unusual a request. We'd actually found that we liked each other's company in the evenings. Sometimes we met at her house, and sometimes at mine.
Smiling, Sue said, "Sure, that sounds like a fun way to unwind tonight. See you around 7:30."
Later, we watched an old movie and had a nice talk. She was laughing at something we were discussing, and unconsciously twirling her finger in her hair. For the last several weeks, I'd been becoming more and more attracted to Sue. We'd been discussing our tastes in movies, food, clothing, interior design, and even how much clutter we can tolerate. In many ways, we seemed so compatible, and even her scent was fantastically enticing, which made me always want to sit next to her so close that our shoulders practically touched. But on this night, I got an even better look at Sue, finding her even more attractive than I'd realized.
Consequently, as we were relaxing after the movie, I asked her if she wanted to see something I'd found that day. I retrieved the leather case that I'd moved earlier from my car to the hall closet and handed it to her. She unzipped it and her eyes grew wide as she tilted the case.
The cuffs tumbled out and landed in her lap. She giggled and started to play with the cuffs, then wisely checked to see if the keys worked. I watched as she put the cuffs on her wrists, clicking them until they were snug. I saw her smile as she explained, "These remind me of a guy I knew that liked to play such games." She was cuffed with her wrists in front of her body, walking around while pulling and twisting to escape the cuffs, but having no success. She commented, "Wow! This makes me feel really helpless." Then she smiled, like she was remembering something.
After a while she asked, "Will you please release me?" Nodding, I helped her. She then said, "OK, now it's your turn, Judy," while holding out the handcuffs. Playfully, I closed the cuff on one wrist. I was about to close the other cuff on my free wrist when Sue interrupted me. "You should try them behind your back. That's more fun." She moved behind me and cuffed my other hand. The cuff was closed snug on my wrist and she then closed the first cuff a little tighter.