Oh No! Not Again!
I dedicate this book to my parents, my father, Samuel Ramsumair, Sr, the only other man who I have ever loved; a man who my life has been a continuing attempt to emulate; a man who constantly shows me that there are still real men out there, men worth looking up to and aspiring to be like, and my mother, Reginalda Ramsumair who taught me pretty much everything and has always shown me unconditional love and support. All that I am and have I owe to my parents.
By Samuel P Ramsumair, Jr
Chapter 1: In the Beginning
Meet Ricardo Singh. Ric is your typical, red-blooded all American boy --- well sort of. About 5 feet 4 inches tall, he was of a medium build and had salt and pepper hair. Age-wise, he described himself as "40-ish." He was a nice enough fellow, but he was lazy and didn't take things seriously. Born some 40 odd years ago in New York City's Bellevue Hospital (a comic's dream), he was the son of a Hindu father and a Guatemalan mother. One friend once described Ric as "half-Indian, half-Guatemalan, and all-klutz." Ric liked to say that he was an Indo-Guatemalan American. Another friend said that Ric was "half-spic, half-dot head, and half-witted." This always got a good laugh. Ric started school in Brooklyn's PS 321 where he got skipped twice and left back twice. The nice thing about Park Slope, which was where Ric was from, was that there was diversity. There was a healthy mix of ethnic groups but mostly Caucasian, African-American, Hispanic and Italian. He couldn't remember one racially motivated problem, not one. Junior High School was a barrel of laughs for Ric, too, mostly. History was always his favorite subject, and he would spend hours poring over history book after history book. By the time he had entered junior high school, he knew all fifty states of the United States, their locations and capital cities among other major cities; he then got to know all of the US presidents. The US presidents, and later the World War II and Vietnam eras became his favorite historical topics. He did pretty well in Junior High School or IS 88. His first year of high school, however, was not exactly a picnic. He went to George Westinghouse Vocational and Technical High School where there wasn't one girl in the whole school, well, there was one, but she was as ugly as the day was long. Girls didn't start showing up in Westinghouse until Ric's senior year. He had to take his first class, drafting, three times before he finally passed it. Ric enjoyed high school, but he had a difficult time at first because he found out the hard way that he wasn't cut out for being a technician or electrical engineer, which was what Westinghouse prepared students to be. Ric ended up going to college at the City College of New York. Great school but crappy neighborhood—it was located in Spanish Harlem. Still, Ric had a great time in college and was sorry to graduate. He loved the frat parties and the diversity of the people—people from all over the world went to CCNY. Ric met people from as far away as Cyprus (an island between Greece and Turkey that Ric had never heard of before going to CCNY), Vietnam, Croatia and Botswana. He especially loved the campus with its Gothic and other old styled buildings. Partly because he wanted to and partly because he had had trouble with some courses, Ric took his four year degree in Economic and Business Administration in six years.
Chapter 2: Jobs, Jobs, Jobs
After college, Ric did mostly odd jobs. Some of the time he was a tutor. Other times he was Dad's helper and sounding board. Still other times he was a full time, stay-at-home "future worker". He liked that job best, but the pay wasn't all that great. How many twenty-something year olds still get allowances? By the time he reached his mid-thirties, Ric started getting jobs. He didn't seem to have a knack for working because he was fired from seven jobs in as many years. His first job was foot messenger. It was an easy job and everything went well at first. Ric loved walking around New York City especially to the men's clothing and shoe stores. All his life, Ric had been into fashion and loved clothes and shoes—the more original the better. And of course there was no shortage of women in the City notably in that mecca of shopping areas and eateries, 34th Street. Things were going great for just over a year. One day Ric had to deliver a package to a private home. The front door opened to reveal a gorgeous blonde woman of about thirty five dressed in nothing but a towel—let's just say that Ric made two deliveries that morning instead of one. Too bad the woman was his supervisor's wife. The next day Ric lost his first job. His second job was stock clerk. Fun job but the messenger gig was far more fun. He had to work in the back of a sort of an all purpose gift store—they sold a little bit of everything. The only thing they didn't sell was food. Ric wasn't crazy about the job, but what the hell? It was cool to be working again, he liked his co-workers, and, best of all, he liked getting paid every two weeks. Again a year passed and Ric became bored because the novelty of working at the place had worn off and he was bored. One day he took three hours off for lunch instead of the permitted thirty minutes. By the time he got back, his supervisor was already preparing his pink slip. Next up, Ric got a job as a bank teller. He was impressed at first because he thought he would be on the fast track to eventually being a bank executive. Yeah, right! The pay was just above minimum wage—that was a bad sign right there. In the bank where Ric worked an hour seemed like two hours. Mondays were the worst days because everyone was required to work from nine in the morning until seven in the evening. It was a miracle that Ric lasted fourteen months at that job—well, not really, he had had the hots for one of his assistant managers. When his pursuit of her didn't pan out, he figured that it was time to go. One day, he came in and just started giving away money to the clients—instant dismissal. The next job was one of Ric's favorites because he got to work in an office, a law firm. The job was cool because it made Ric feel semi-important. Everything was good. Ric was content, and he was starting to make serious money. He was even learning about different facets of the law. He got along with most of his co-workers—most of them. There was one budding lawyer in the office who was a real jerk. Nobody knew what this guy's problem was. Maybe he suffered from an inferiority complex or some such thing. He was ill-mannered and brusque most of the time. Worst of all, he seemed to be a bigot. Anybody who wasn't a white person was fair game. Every so often he would tell racial jokes to his Caucasian associates. One day Ric overheard him telling a particularly nasty Indian joke and got pissed off. For once in his life, Ric thought with his head instead of with his backside and decided to be the bigger man and let the joke slide. No one knows how it happened but Ric became the brunt of the prejudiced lawyer's jokes and abuse. One day the lawyer decided to be more of a jerk than usual and began ordering Ric around. At one point he demanded that Ric make him some copies. Ric was ready for him—in the copies he inserted some juicy porno pictures he had printed off of the internet. The lawyer looked like a buffoon, but unfortunately Ric couldn't retain his employment at the firm. With the help of a friend, Ric landed a job as a demolitions worker. He loved the job because he was allowed to break and destroy things. It was the most stress-free job he had ever had. The job involved breaking down sheetrock walls mostly and basically clean up a room so that a new office could be built there. Ric especially loved knocking down panels of sheetrock. He got so good at it that he could knock down an 8x4 foot panel with a 2x4 stick without breaking the panel. He also liked painting rooms and got to be pretty good at it. The pay, which was anywhere from $600 to $800 a week, was damned good. The job was originally supposed to be for only six months, but they liked Ric and decided to keep him on after the six months were up. Ric was enjoying the job, but one day he got carried away and accidentally demolished the female's bathroom with a few women still in it. Luckily no one was hurt. What happened after that? You guessed it. Ric had to look around for a while before he found his next job, which was drug counselor. It was a fluke that he even applied for the position. He happened to be walking around the area and saw the "Help Wanted" sign. Also the guy in charge was desperate to find someone to fill the spot since no one seemed to want it. The man painted such a pretty picture that Ric jumped at the chance of nailing the assignment. The job wasn't exactly a love match for Ric but he made the best of it. He did the job to the best of his ability, which meant that he tried to help as many people as he could to kick the drug habit. But to Ric it seemed that the more people he tried to help, the more people became hooked on drugs for a second or even a third time. It reached the extent that Ric overworked himself so much that he burned out. He got so burned out that one day he went ape and began to pitch both laughing and crying fits. One day he clucked like a chicken for almost an hour. That was when his supervisor decided that it was time for Ric to move on. The last job was quite possibly the worst of the lot although it took Ric roughly four months to get to that conclusion. He became an elementary school teacher—third grade teacher to be exact. Ric took to the job right away because he thought it would help him make a difference. For a time the job was a dream come true. He read to the students and told them stories. Every Friday was show and tell day. Gradually the students got more and more rambunctious. They would do rude things like talk when Ric was talking, mimic him, play video games in class and walk around the room. In time Ric rued going to school. Some days he just didn't want to go. He didn't have the energy to deal with all those kids. It didn't help matters that there were 40 or more students per classroom. This was a far cry from tutoring, which was usually one on one. There were so many kids, personalities and issues to confront. One day Ric ran out of one of his classrooms screaming and pulling his hair out—so much for the shaping of young minds.
