The loadin' dock foreman was really steamed. It didn't help that it was 90-plus outside, and I suppose all of our tempers were up.
"I've about had it with you and your crap T******n," he suddenly told me with a classic sneer. "Ya need to get your load and hit the f-in' road."
And just as I was wonderin' what bug suddenly flew up his ass, my buddy Pat, just in from Idaho, reminded me that the boys from upstairs were doin' their yearly reviews.
"It mustn't have gone too well I suppose," Pat said with a hint of delight in his voice. It seemed to tickle me as well.
On my way back back from Salem , I really noticed the late summer evening with all of those dark navy-blue to pink color gradations in the sky. I decided to stop for a quick glass of beer at the Goble Tavern before headin' to my Ranier motel for the night.
And there he was. After walkin' in, the first person I see bellied-up to the bar, all by himself, was the loadin' dock foreman.
My instinct was to turn around and grab a six-pack at the Quik-Mart to drink in my motel room, but all I wanted was one glass of beer. I groaned and mustered up a little bit of gumption.
"Tough day, eh?" I said in my somewhat unsettled surprise introduction as I sat down next him.
He started chucklin' to himself while starin' into his glass of Bud. "I suppose you could say that T******n, I didn't know that you were a god-damm fortune-teller, but I s'ppose I should expect that kinda thing from you."
"You know what," I began a bit impatiently , "let's just knock the usual shit off for about twenty-minutes here and try not to insult each other."
"It's a deal T******n," he said. It seemed like neither of us said nothin' for almost an eternity until he broke our silence.
"I s'ppose all of us spend everyday grindin our asses off and never bother to notice that everyone else is too," he said with remarkable philosophical insight.
"I suppose so," I grunted back.
"I'm sorry Tom, I don't mean to be a bastard alla-thetime, I'm just too worked up everyday to pretend to give a shit when I'm tired."
And there IT was. All of my resentment and hatred for this guy just seemed to float away after he said that. I think it was the first time he called me by my first name.
We spent a good twenty minutes talkin' together about some funny crap goin' on at the yard, the office boys upstairs, our girl-friend/wives, and we even mourned the talk of the Goble surviving yet another upcoming management change.
After all this, as I swallowed my last gulp of beer while standin' up and pullin' my keys out of my trousers, the loadin' dock turned and said sheepishly, "It'll be back to our usual grind tomorrow, so no hard feelin's when I snap at you, ok T******n?" he said kindly.
"Fair enough," I smiled back, patting him on his back. I threw a ten on the bar and told the bartender to be sure his next couple of beers were on me.
-Tom
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