A part of the world, at work

Today I had to reach to the back of the closet, due to a laundry initiative problem, and this always means the good clothes and for some reason I always feel phony in them. I was going to do Returns at the paper, which is mostly clerical, but it looked more like I was going to the Dead Poet's Society. Dress slacks, Republican granddad cardigan sweater, blue silk shirt, brown loafers with, I'm not joking, those socks one might call argyle if one were sure of the definition of argyle.

I stood before the full length mirror on the back of the door in my new room, and I looked like a brand new pencil, just out of the box. Except for the colors, I guess. (I'm thin, did you know?) Or anyway I looked like a prep kid who just might have a fresh pencil.

So what do I do, I put on a farmer's seed bill cap. Because if you're going to draw attention to yourself, it better be with some irony, Bud.


There's another reason I'm thinking "pencil". It's my recent hair cut. Last week I finally went to the barber after planning for six months to go (and saving myself $40 ,at least two hair cuts!) This place was classic, I think it's owned by the Missouri Cattleman's Association, and the three barbers were in their 70's at least, with a full audience of men and boys lined up in the chairs along the wall facing them. Some waiting, some just hanging out as their wives shopped at the shops adjacent. I had my bill cap on then too, but fit in since I was just off the assembly line and hadn't bathed in two days anyway. My jeans could have stood by themselves, as they say, and my shoes were obviously working-man.

The conversations were calm and steady as she goes. There was one old woman who worried aloud about the little animals in the woods surviving this ice storm.

That made John sad too. He hadn't thought of that before!

Anyway, the wait wasn't long and I got the man who looked most like Charlie Weaver (which had me a little wary of which ever of his colleagues cut his hair and mustache). A good thing to get the barber with the bad hair cut, don't' you know! I was quite at home and as I say, just off "the line". The talk continued, not requiring any input from me. I pointed at one of the other barbers and said I'd like my hair like his.

"Ok, then!" Out came the electric shears with the suction action. They were quiet though. I closed my eyes.

I went to sleep! Or, at least into a pleasant daze, eyes closed, not hearing, not thinking of much. The old barber, I remember, had stepped away for a moment. Now he shook me by the thumb and I came too and he turned the chair around and asked "how's that?"

Just what I wanted, I said. It really was. A bit long on top, but over my ears. I made to go.

"Oh, I haven't touched the top yet though", he said.

I looked again. No, that's how I like it, I said. Not a summer crew cut, just a neat and yet unbarbered look. He said, really, ok then just let me finish the back of your neck here.

I tipped him five dollars and left happy and the next morning woke up and realized I am Eraser-Head. So that's why I'm thinking pencils, see. Now, to pick up where I was going with all of this. Since you understand.

Wait. Where was I going with all of this? Do you know? It's skipped my mind.

Oh, yes. Today at work was delightful. Starting with my initial long walk across the factory floor to the office. First, lovely Deanne sidled up to tell me over the mid-volume, clangorous stitchers and bailers that I'd been re-scheduled for an easy day tomorrow, and walked along with me giving all the reasons (which didn't interest me in the least, though I kept asking questions just to keep her tagging along, gaw she is lovely).

Something about that seemed to draw more nods and smiles than on my usual arrival. Even a wave. Maybe it wasn't Deanne, maybe it was the irony. Or maybe it wasn't the irony, maybe I looked like I'd arrived to tender my resignation finally. That always cheers people up, no matter who you are. Take this job and shove it, I think these people say.

Then on the way back with my files, my friend, nemesis, and fellow political junkie, Palmer, left his machine to stop me and ask about Hillary's chances and exclaimed that to his surprise, he couldn't stand to see her on Good Morning America.

"Will it be Obama you think John?"

"Obama is backed by Soros. Shows he's already mis-represented himself as a moderate. Not a chance."

"Soros gave him money, true, but that doesn't mean he's knighted him. What about Richardson?"

"I worry about him because he's cute but he can't shake that Clinton stuff. Hell, he was even a bit player in that sex scandal, what was it. And didn't he have something to do with Los Alamos losing our crown jewels?"

I don't think so but I still said it, as a dirty trick.

Alls fair, this is war!

"What about the 'pubbies? Chuck Hagel?"

"We'd rather vote for Hillary. He's a RINO, we ever find him behind our lines we'll string him up by his toes, swear to god."

"Well , who then? Quick!"

"Duncan Hunter for the hint of a brand name, Mitt Romney because he's our Al Gore who will say anything to play to the base and there are traditional family Republicans who aren't too bright."

He let me go just as I noticed Landy laughing at me. I yelled what! and she kept laughing as I walked by, giving her the challenge look. My spirits soaring again. Might have been ridicule but it wasn't derisive, you know?

To give her a really good laugh, someday I'm going to be like these other guys and make a frank verbal sexual advance. Except half way through I'll probably mumble and she'll have just got the idea and demand I repeat it and god knows, maybe it'll be like a Charlie Brown/ Lucy Van Pelt fight scene. Ha,ha.

heh.

So anyways and also, this was the day to turn in my week's worth of minutely detailed time sheets to my boxx, and I was honest of course, maybe too honest. The truth is all I've got going for me anyway, plus the hope that I get back to the bottom of his danged "to-do" list.

There was a sweaty moment when he announced that all this could be done in an hour, then. Again, he expressed his worry about my being bored, and his desire to get me back onto the assembly line. And again, I didn't laugh and say "you're joking, right?"

Sweet merciful Jesus. After a little discussion, where I got it in that this had been a somewhat unusual week I'd recorded, he said, "Oh, hell, we could do this another week. We could do this for a month to get the bigger picture."

Ok, then! I stood up from the swivel chair. It was still a half hour before I was scheduled to go home, but all my customers had come and gone.

"You think that's all right, then?"

I said, "It's good business sense. Thanks, Bill!"

"Thanks, John." He almost grinned, I thought. I think I even did a double-take to make sure. Um, no, maybe not.

Got to the door and a loud "OH!" escaped my lips. "All right if I go home then?"

"Sure, we just got people standing around anyway."

Great day at work, yes sir! I mean, Bill. Sorry, sir. Bill!