My workday was of a liberal mixture of the Good, The Bad, and the Horrendously Ugly.
The good part was that I got to drive the forklift; that rocked. Hey, don't laugh; I'm pushing forty and I've never driven a forklift before, and I found it really, really amusing. I found that I'm a fucking forklift natural. I had no trouble with it at all, moving a half-ton widget onto an ABF truck late this afternoon, out the back of the warehouse. I like doing "extras" around the office; when my area is slow I often wander down the hall and volunteer for someone else's shit-work. You learn a lot that way, and sometimes they let you use the power tools. Yee-haw. Queenie is nothing if not Value Added.
The bad part was that I was late as hell in getting to the office this morning. My youngest spewed grits all over the sidewalk in front of pre-school at the a.m. drop-off, so I had to take the little projectile-vomiter back to the house. Mister MacFarland had to be shaken from his heavy, scotch whiskey-soaked dreams, propped up bodily, and made to understand that he was now On Duty. Mister MacFarland, incidentally, enjoys a cushily flexible schedule, so he was able to nursemaid the poor child for the day. After arranging Mister MacFarland's black coffee IV to the satisfaction of everyone involved, I finally hit the road. I haaate being late. This was discussed earlier in the week, at Momma's. I am a punctuality Nazi, so this whole morning was an abject violation of my values. Moral dissonance, if you will.
I struggle with these things.
Finally, the Horrendously Ugly. The reason that I got to drive the forklift is that the guy who usually drives it had to go home early. At lunch, his mother called; his two-month-old baby nephew, his pride and joy, died of SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome) this morning. He was destroyed, hysterical; the poor, poor, man. This is a good family, folks, good country people who pay their bills on time and would give you the shirts off their backs. Nobody deserves to lose a precious new member, and this family least of all.
If you're praying-type folks, do say a little one, for strength in the family. If you're not, that's cool, but nod your fucking head anyway, just out of respect for the loss.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date with a cocktail, something green, a bathtub, and a book, in that order. I need to wash some of this day off of me. Read through the archives, if you're bored. Try this one, assuming you haven't read it before. It's a favorite, according to my stats.
Posted by Queenie at January 12, 2005 09:28 PMI hate to hear that about the forklift guy. I do pray that God keeps them and holds them in their time of need.
But regarding the forklift, you're right - they can be a lot of fun. Next time you get to do it, try this (never fails to impress)
Tell the receiving clerk that you can pick up a nickel off the floor with the forklift - that's how good you are. He'll drop a nickel on the floor in front of you. Tilt the forks as far down as they'll go, lift them 3 or so inches off the floor and drive forward until the tip of one of the forks is just past the nickel and above it. Lower your forks down until the tips just touch the floor and then slowly back up. The nickel will pop up and land on top of the fork. Grin real big like you expected it to happen.
The receiving clerk at my place said, "Mr. Circabellum, you are the coolest dude in the office."
by the way, you're drinking something green? Absinthe?
Posted by: Circa Bellum at January 12, 2005 10:36 PMRe: prayer, done. May God carry them and surround them and lift them up through their grief.
I think the cocktail and the something green are two separate items, but Absinth sounds good too. I just poured myself a half glass of port with a couple drops of Blue Lotus Absolute added for good measure.
Posted by: Desert Cat at January 12, 2005 10:45 PMI too, feel for the folks that lost their infant to sids. It's bad anytime you lose a youngin'. That is somethin' I surely wouldn't want to experience.
The green? Seems to be some question 'bout it? I like DC didn't think it was part of the drink unless it was an olive, but that's me.
Forklifts, well, I used to drive one, now, I could probably wreck one. Remember this while you're tryin' to pick up your nickel. Don't, ever, drive of the damned loadin' dock.
One, final note... That Mr. Macfarland, we must be close to one and the same in some other life...
"Mister MacFarland had to be shaken from his heavy, scotch whiskey-soaked dreams, propped up bodily,"
and then
"After arranging Mister MacFarland's black coffee IV to the satisfaction of everyone involved, I finally hit the road."
Familiar ring to it for me...
The death of the forklift operator's child is completely and horrendously ugly. Continued prayers are a good idea.
You are a good writer.
I found your site through Blog d'Elisson.
Posted by: Mark at January 15, 2005 12:21 AM