Two Ordinary People

I received an anonymous challenge as follows: "Could you do something similar for 'little people', poor, struggling, problem ridden, ordinary looking, etc. Not going from victory to victory, but overcoming defeat after defeat. Ending not with wealth but a contribution of note to society."

Within reason---yes. Recognize that regardless of their apparent station in life or their collective maladies and malfunctions, characters who are bland, ordinary, consumed by problems often of their own making, determined to be victims and wholly unremarkable are not very interesting characters to write about from my perspective.

The idea that creating wealth is somehow failing to make a "contribution of note to society" is indicative of the of anti-hero "mediocre works for me" left wing socialist culture that has taken hold of our society and I reject it. While it's your right to jealously despise the very successful among us, to dismiss them as failing to contribute is simply wrong. Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Sam Walton, Ted Turner and even Donald Trump individually and collectively will have been shown to have made a far more notable contribution to society than the Dali Lama and Mother Teresa. Certainly their contributions have been more tangible and less symbolic. They created enterprise, jobs and technologies and brought important benefits to those at every rung on the social ladder.

So this is a story about two relatively ordinary people facing real issues and dealing with the setbacks of life head on. I believe they have nobility and an ability to grow as individuals. They refuse to be victims or blame everyone other than themselves for their misfortunes. On the other hand to make them completely unattractive and unredeemable would make them unappealing and not very interesting to explore.

I've been at both ends of the socio-economic spectrum from penniless to flush; I've enjoyed gleaming successes and dismal failures. I'll take ownership for both.

An elder relative who I admired once said, "Diarrhea is real but I certainly don't want to read about it." Fiction is intended to create hopes and dreams and possibilities. "Real" is well covered on the evening news; I don't need or desire to be tied to it in my writing efforts.

* * * * *

"Hey Jack, is Jan around?"

"Sure, Rod...what's the matter, something wrong with your lunch?"

"Not a chance, Jack, fantastic as usual. I just wanted to chat with her for a few minutes."

***

"Hey Rod, how's my favorite customer doing today?"

"Oh, I bet you say that to all the guys Jan!"

"I'm serious as hell. You are both my best and my favorite customer. You were one of our first; you spread the word among your friends and neighbors. Seventy percent of the lunch trade is from the company you work for. You even helped us get a regular catering business with your employer. You're a local, loyal customer...it doesn't get much better than that."

"Hell, Jan, you've got the best wings anywhere, fresh Guinness on tap---not to mention an excellent assortment of draught and bottled beer. Everything on your menu is excellent. I like the atmosphere. It's close to home and work and your bartenders are a great group and good at their jobs. It's always a friendly, neighborly atmosphere. Your waitresses are efficient, fun and I'd have to say with no exceptions...adorable."

"What do you do for a living over there at that big building Rod?"

"Push paper in a mind numbing little cubicle; answer the phone and deal with pissed off people. I'm just another faceless employee number greasing the wheels of industry. If I didn't show up I'm not sure anyone would even notice."

"What's on your mind?"

"It's personal, Jan. Look you know me well enough to know that I've never been inappropriate with your girls past a little harmless flirting. They're all sweet; there is one in particular who I've gotten into the habit of tipping well more than twenty percent and I..."

"Shelly?"

"Shelly."

"What's your interest in Shelly, Rod? She's commented on the tips and I've seen the way you look at her...follow her with your eyes. She is hands down my best bartender and waitress. Look, if you're looking for a little fun, a good time, well...I don't think Shelly's your girl."

"Why would you say that?"

"Look, Rod, nothing personal but you don't strike me as the 'one girl' kind of guy. I mean you often bring a girl in with you on the weekends, never the same twice, as I recall and while most of them are reasonably attractive..."

"They're all pretty trashy?"

"Uh, huh. And there is nothing remotely trashy about Shelly. This is a part time job for her; she does it to make a little extra cash and because she enjoys it. Her regular job is teaching elementary school. She has a heart of gold...the classic, 'good hearted woman'. She's been fucked over a couple of times by guys...who might be like you? She's not a trollop and she's not looking for a roll in the hay. Nor is she interested in being some jerk's trophy or arm piece."

"Is she seeing anyone?"

"Rod, I like you but I love that little girl. You're an okay looking guy and I'm sure you have no trouble getting laid. I would ask you not to consider Shelly as another notch on your bed post."

"Jan...I like Shelly...I would like to get to know her. Look! I was in love once...head over heels. It didn't work out well at all. Over the last few years, well, you hit it on the head. I haven't been interested in anything remotely serious. The trashier they are the less chance they're ever going to pull on my heart strings. It's gotten old. I'm ready to jump back into the game...take a chance and I..."

"Damn, Rod, I actually believe you...but if you fuck over that little girl I will personally remove one of your most valued appendages. She is the real deal and I'm still not completely convinced that you are good enough for her. I'm not excited about regular customers dating the staff. What possessed you to ask me?"

"I don't know, I wanted to know a little bit more about her...if she was dating anyone...you know. I also kinda' wanted to ask if it was alright for me to...ask her out."

"I'm not planning to let this become a regular practice and I'm still not completely comfortable with it. Do you go to church, Rod?"

"Not as often as I should but I get there now and again."

"Well, Shelly gets there a lot more often than that; she teaches Sunday school at this church." Jan said, scribbling the name of a church on a cocktail napkin. "If you want to get to know her, start there. And for Christ's sake, Rod, be honest! Don't feed her a line. When you see her there---tell her the truth as in, 'Jan told me you attended this church and I came here to get to know you a little better'...agreed? 'Cause if you lie to her...well let me put it this way, I'm going to tell her you expressed an interest in her and tell her that I told you where she attends church. She thinks you're an okay guy, beyond that, Shelly is not the kind of girl who falls for a man easily. You're going to have to prove your worth and convince her---and me for that matter---that you really do have honorable intentions. I don't know if the two of you will even find much in common. I don't sense you're cut from the same cloth. I'll say it again...I'm not sure you're good enough for her...she is a kind, honest, thoughtful, sweet, loving and unique woman, not a flash in the pan. She's pure gold."

"Yes ma'am."

Before Sunday came Friday arrived. Events made the pursuit of the adorable young Shelly and her sweet young hips a back burner project. What was it about her? She was cute but certainly not beautiful. Her hips were a little too broad and her tits were nothing to write home about. She was anything but the long legged, bubble butted '"snakes" he was normally attracted to. Her eyes...her smile...her voice?

"Rod, I'm really sorry. The whole department is going to be outsourced. Those that are within two years of retirement, have unique skills or advanced training or are considered part of a 'protected' group will be offered opportunities to interview for other jobs within the corporation. You do not fall into any of those groups."

"Where's the outsourcing company going to operate?"

"New Mexico. We're not offering any travel or relocation and frankly that's a labor surplus market out there...and..."

"And?"

"Rod, like I said, I like you. I told you three years ago to get into night school and work on an advanced degree; to my knowledge you haven't done so. You're always on time--- never early---and you leave at the stroke of five. The big boss frankly doesn't even know who you are. You never really garnered any attention upstairs. You came here, a 'C' student from an unremarkable regional university. I know your extra curricular activities---you coach for the youth league I seem to recall---are very important to you but there never was a clear indication of where your priorities were. You never caused any problems and did your job adequately. You never volunteered for any of the restructuring task forces. Look, I'd like you to stay on until the end of the month. There's a small severance; its ten weeks, or two weeks for each year. Your benefits under ERISA will run out pretty quickly after your last day. You are fully vested in your 401k but not in the pension program. There is a contract with an outplacement firm to help you get back on your feet. I know this is probably a little disconcerting but you're young, you don't have a family to support and I'm sure you come out okay."

"Do you mind if I go home now...an hour early?"

"Not at all."

"Thanks. I'll see you Monday."

As Rod sat in the reasonably nice apartment which he realized he would soon have to vacate, he reviewed his assets and liabilities. He had few of either; his four year old truck was paid for. He owned a small plot of land just past the edge of town that hadn't really appreciated but he'd paid it off and thought maybe someday he'd build a house on it. He had a few toys he could sell. He didn't have any credit card debt and had paid off his student loan only a month earlier. He basically lived from pay check to paycheck, saving very little and having very little to show for the money he had made over the previous five years. He had a youth league game to get to.

He stopped to chat with the director of the youth league, a man old enough to be his father. He brought him up to speed on his employment situation.

"Rod, I don't know if you are interested and it sure as hell isn't enough to live on but the guy who mows the playing fields...well, he was illegal and he got deported and the board went ape shit when they found out we were employing illegal labor. I can't pay you much more than minimum wage; there's probably less than twenty hours a week. We have decent mowing equipment so you wouldn't have to provide any of your own stuff."

"I'll take it." Rod replied without a second thought.

Saturday he drove out to his property; it amounted to just under ten acres. Not remotely suitable for agriculture but, he had always thought, very suitable for a home. It was hillside property with a decent stand of old growth pine. He'd paid a little less than two thousand dollars an acre for it. He'd check with the building department Monday and see what the zoning issues might be. Sunday he went to church...Shelly's church.

He had grown up being dragged to a church much like this one, even the same denomination. In spite of his travails he felt pretty good about life after the religious service...no job...no money...no girl...but what the hell. He stayed after the service for the free lunch. He spoke to Shelly; she joined him.

"Jan told me you might come; I'm glad you did...thank you. What exactly do you do for a living again?"

"Not much of anything right now; I just got downsized." Rod proceeded to fill her in on all the details including his new status as lawnmower man.

"Rod, I'm so sorry. I'm a little surprised that you seem to be taking it so well...maybe it just hasn't hit you yet."

"Shelly, I was not exactly the employee of the week or a rising star in the organization. I came in at nine, left at five and took my full hour for lunch. I did my job, probably no better than adequately, but I was never into it. Frankly I hated it and did the minimum required to stay employed and not much more. I spent too many nights at Jan's pub when I should have been going to night school to get an advanced degree. I didn't graduate from Harvard; I was a 'C' student at a regional university that no one has ever heard of with a BA in liberal arts. I was far more devoted to coaching Youth League sports than being a corporate animal. I don't have much on either side of the line, debt or equity but nor do I have a family, mortgage or whatever. I'll figure something out."

Pursuing Shelly would unfortunately not be something he sensed he'd have much time for in the foreseeable future. He was unemployed, didn't have two dimes to rub together and was rapidly facing the realization that, to date, he hadn't made much of his life. He knew very well that he had absolutely nothing to offer her or anyone else for that matter.

He went to the county offices over his lunch hour on Monday.

"So here's the property on the map...here's the plot. I'm kind of wondering if I can put a trailer up there---to live in. I've got to vacate my apartment in a few weeks."

"You're outside the city and it's more than five acres. It's zoned agriculture. If you actually build something on it you'd need permits but a temporary structure such as a trailer...I don't see any problem. A year down the road there might be some raised eyebrows as it would begin to appear other than temporary. Are you planning to ultimately build up there?"

"I'd like to, but right now I've got to get a job...just got downsized and..."

"Have you ever done any construction work?"

"I worked construction during the summers in college; my dad was a carpenter and I'm pretty good with tools."

"I don't know what you're looking for son, but the inspection department has a part time opening. It doesn't pay that well and there are no benefits. You'd be high on the list if an inspector position comes open. Of course you'd need to go to school and get certified. The county would pay for that if you are hired full time and in this state the tuition is pretty low; they evaluate your wages and charge accordingly. You need to be finger printed and take a drug test---and a basic reading and writing test. I can give you the application."

"I'd like that."

"We're open until six; after you return the application we'll send you to the lab to pee in a cup."

Rod finished the application while waiting between phone calls back in his cubicle. He was pretty sure no one gave a damn. He was back at the building department by five fifteen. He took the fifteen minute literacy test and drove down the street to piss in the cup. He then drove over to the jail and got finger printed. He dropped all the required paper work off at the building department the next morning before work.

"You're probably the most qualified applicant we have; no criminal record, questionable citizenship status or whatnot. By the way, do you have a trailer or are you looking for one?"

"Looking."

"Well, the builders always have several when they work a new development; they generally sell them off cheap rather than move them when the development is complete. You'd need to do a little rework inside to make it suitable for a home but they're well maintained. There's a builder a couple of miles this side of where your property is that I'm pretty sure still has one to sell. It wouldn't cost an arm and a leg to get it moved; you might have to do a little maintenance but other than that..."

"Great, thanks! When might I hear about the job?"

"I'll call you on your cell but by the end of the week, I would think."

Over lunch, Rod went out to see if he could buy an inexpensive trailer. The builder was a decent guy; Rod quickly related his situation. The builder asked him questions obviously designed to determine whether he was full of shit. Evidently he passed.

"So you've done some construction work!"

"Yes sir."

"We're moving our crews to a new site. I need someone part time who can handle complaints from new home owners. Most times it as simple as not knowing where the GFCI reset is, a loose pipe under the sink...minor stuff. The simple stuff you fix---if it's more extensive, you write it up and call it in and we send out a regular tradesman based on the problem. It's part time, it's evenings and it doesn't pay that well nor have any benefits. We'll put your name on a business card that says, 'Associate Builder' and I'll give you a cell phone and a basic tool box. As I said, after hours, probably no better than twenty hours a week."

"I'm in!"

Life for Rod continued albeit a very different life than he might have foreseen a scant few weeks earlier. The builder virtually gave him the trailer. Since he only had to move it a couple of miles it didn't end up costing much to get it moved. He enrolled at JC in the building inspection certification classes. Using his pickup truck he gradually moved all of his things to the trailer for which he had built a rudimentary block foundation. He had no water, sewer or electricity. Power came first. He was shocked to find out what it would cost him to get electricity to his trailer from the nearest transformer.

"Wow! I don't have that kind of money. Isn't there any way to get it done cheaper?"

"Well, you could rent a ditcher, buy the underground cable from us or anywhere you want to but we don't mark it up, lay the cable and stub it out, install the meter according to code..."

"I just started working for the county code department..."

"That'll help, I would think you could get it signed off for a heck of a lot less than the normal fee or even for free. Anyway, you do the grunt work and our guy comes in, checks that you hooked the meter up correctly and then ties in to the transformer."

"How much less?"

"A hell of a lot less...five hundred to a thousand?"

"As opposed to five grand? I can handle this."

The next Friday he begged a Ditch Witch™ from his builder-boss. By nine o'clock that evening he was done. Three days later he had electrical service. The following Friday was his last day sitting in a cubicle as his former job officially ended. Life fell into a routine.

Sunday morning he'd mow grass, then clean up and it was back to church and Shelly; Sunday afternoon he mowed the remainder of the Youth League fields. Monday morning and ever weekday morning it was off to JC for classes. Monday afternoon like every weekday afternoon he was on the clock for the building inspection department. Each evening from roughly six to ten he was answering panic calls from new home owners.

His job with the county involved checking up on building sites to be sure that the builders were correctly following their permit schedule; he was not yet a real building inspector but his boss and the other generally older inspectors cared enough to show him the ropes. He'd spend at least an hour a day on his own time following a real inspector around to learn the tricks and traps. It was on one such ride along that the subject of sewage came up.

"Rod, a licensed contractor is going to hit you eight grand to install a code correct sewage system. Now there's roughly a grand in materials and a lot of sweat work but it's the EPA certification that you end up paying for---often a quarter of the cost. Legally, you can do the work on your own property as long as it's to code---and all that information is in detail back at the office. You'd need a half a day of dozer or Bobcat™ time depending on the soil. You have to have percolation samples run but that's not a big deal in these parts. A few hundred bucks worth of perforated tile and the concrete tank---the most expensive part. I do have a friend who is in that business and I'm sure he'd sell you the materials at cost or slightly above. He usually has some concrete tanks lying around that while still serviceable have a nonfunctional flaw that a developer wouldn't accept."