Hugging a Stranger

Chapter 9

Don and Lenny were both standing on the sidewalk at the jobsite when I got there at 8:20 a.m. There was a refrigerator on a dolly and they were obviously waiting for me to help get it upstairs. Don started yelling as soon as he saw me, "What the hell? Didn't I just tell you not to be late and the very next day you're late! What the fuck? Was I talkin' outta' the side of my neck or somethin'? Guys are gonna' be lookin' at you and you're comin' in late like this?" Don stopped to wipe his sweaty brow with a bandana. It was already hot and humid. "What if I was payin' guys standin' around waitin' on you! We can't have this, Ray! This is bullshit!"

"I'm sorry, Don. It won't happen again," I answered calmly.

"What?" Don looked at me totally confused, so I went on, "Sorry I let you down."

Don continued to stare at me in bewilderment, and then he started yelling again, "Oh, so I'm the bad guy? You're the one who's fuckin' late and I'm made out to be the asshole?"

"No, not at all. I was totally in the wrong," I again answered calmly, hoping this conversation would be over soon so I could get to work.

Don shook his head and told me just to help get the fridge up the stairs. The three of us manhandled it up two flights of stairs and by the time we got it up and into the tiny kitchen, we were all sweating. Don told me to hook the water line to the ice maker and I heard him and Lenny mumbling in the other room. It wasn't just the humidity causing me to sweat.

When I finished the fridge, I went hunting for Don to find out what he wanted me to do next. He was standing next to the truck talking on the phone and held up a finger signaling me to wait a minute. When he hung up he looked me up and down and said, "Look, Ray, you're a nice kid. That's the problem. Too nice. Next week we're gonna' have a few new guys startin' up and you can't act like that."

"I won't be late again. I'm sorry, Don."

"Dammit, Ray, don't you get it? That's exactly what I'm talkin' about right there. Quit bein' so god damned polite or the guys are gonna' eat you up. This is a construction site! You're already too young and too green to be in charge. They hear you talkin' like that and they're gonna' call you a kiss ass or a pussy and they're gonna' take advantage of you. Next time I bust your balls, I want you to stand up to me. I'm gonna' give you shit for bein' late cuz that's my job, but I know you ain't usually late! So gimme' shit right back! Don't you get it? A man's gotta' right to rant and rave, but if I really have a problem with you we'll be havin' a private conversation."

"So you want me to argue with you?" I asked, totally confused. That was the kind of thing that would get me backhanded by my dad. I spent my whole life learning how to de-fuse an angry man and now I was being told to do the opposite.

"Hell yeah! I mean, don't be late again, but if you are, stand up to me. Tell me you ain't usually late, give me hell right back. It's just what guys do. Now if you're late all the time, we're gonna' have a problem, but that's different."

"Okay, Don, I'll try."

"No, Ray. Don't try. Do. Save that sweet talk for your girlfriend."

I almost said, "Yes sir," out of habit and caught myself just in time. "Alright then, can I get back to work?"

"Yeah, you're on paint duty today, and remember -"

I cut him off, "This ain't the gawd damned Tawj Mahawl," I said, with my best New York accent.

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