How to Drive Lunatic

I honestly believed that my older brother needed to have one hand on the radio tuner dial in order to drive. Always it was his right hand with his index, middle and useless finger combined with the universally strengthened opposing thumb (it’s the only thing that separates us from the dolphin) at the bottom carefully positioned as if to grab a small grape. He would turn that sucker like making right turns on a track of endless circles. The left hand would serve as a multi tool, either for removing sunflower seeds from his mouth flick the spent shell, grab his Pepsi from between his legs (no built in cup holders then) swig, place it back between his legs, wave at a friend on the pass and then move it to the steering wheel for a slight lane changing adjustment. Man, it was poetry in motion; too bad he was such a jerk.

 Don’t you think that the way a person drives tells a lot about a person? Think about it the next time an idiot, male or female (it never seems to matter), drives up behind your car real quick like, rides your rear end for a couple of hundred feet only to abruptly pass you while holding a steady glare as they pass or say something offensive about your ancestry (optional).  I also have witnessed a real “A-hole” while visiting friends in California pass on the right shoulder of the freeway; I wished I could have followed him, but I was stuck in two miles per hour traffic. These lunatics usually have bumper stickers plastered all over the back end of their brain. Look, I don’t need to read Idiotic literature while trying to navigate through traffic, about who you want me to think you are. I don’t care if your rotten kid was an honor student this week. I don’t care if you burn black candles and smoke brooms. Save us all the trouble and just put one bumper sticker on the back of your car that says “I’m an Idiot, Read this bumper Sticker “, then pass me by and move on to the next poor bastard and repeat the whole process again.

I have made it a point in my life to always be at work on Monday, no matter what. I do it partly because of my work ethic, but a lot has to do with how a worker is treated. When a guy calls in on Monday’s or fails to call in and just not show, it becomes possible that this employee is either lame or he is actually sick. I have heard some real good excuses and then I have heard some really, really good ones. 

Supervisor: “Where were you yesterday”?

Soon to be laid off worker: “Hey man, yesterday man, I thought it was Sunday, I realized it later, Oh man today is Monday man oh wow! I missed work.”

Supervisor: “That’s the best excuse I’ve ever heard get in the truck” or this one,

Employee of many Grandparents: “My Grandmother passed away this weekend and the funeral was Monday.”

Or,

Employee chained to a toilet: “I can’t make in today (Monday) because I have diarrhea.”

You can tell a lot about a guy by his attendance at work, the Guys who repeatedly miss days usually get laid off or move on. You can also pick out the guys who have direct deposit; they call in on Fridays. Most of the solid workers are there every day; they have to be, they need every day’s pay like most of us who live check to check. When they call in it is because they are really sick, and if they are not, I hope they enjoy a well-earned three day weekend.

My List of Bad Excuses

1.     I’m waiting for the cable guy. (Let’s face it you gotta have TV, man.)

2.     My wife is leaving me. (Someone needs to help her pack.)

3.     I’m leaving my wife. (That’s how he found this one.)

4.     My dog is leaving me. (This one really hurts.)

5.      It’s too hot to work. (God-honest truth)

6.     I’m sick, I want the day off. (Don’t drink on Sundays)

7.     I don’t have any money for gas. (Don’t open this can of worms.)

8.     My back hurts. (One-half of all Americans admit to having back pain.)

9.     I’m not sick; I just wanted the day off. (I can always respect the truth.)

10. I’m looking for another job. (That’s how he found this one.)

I have worked with guys who have different reasons for the things they have said and done; none of it seems to matter and for the most part if you’ve got an excuse, than that is all it really is, just another excuse. The hottest August since 1962, an average of 110 degrees daily, that’s 31 days. I love Arizona!  The Serial Landscaper

Open wide Dr.Steel

"At the bottom of enmity between strangers lies indifference". Soren Kierkegaard

 The company I am currently employed by operates as three different divisions, construction, residential and maintenance. The down turn in our economy has severely affected our construction and residential divisions to the point that they have been reduced by about 50%. In the commercial maintenance division we have taken a small hit as far as some of the smaller accounts that struggle to pay the bills, but for the most part we have managed to keep the stronger accounts. The private residential market has increased to such a lucrative level that we have now been able to delve successfully into this market.

The private residential account is always a rough customer for us. We are like an 800 lb. gorilla compared to the smaller truck and trailer guy. A company such as ours carries certifications, bonding cost, workers compensation and all the necessary legal costs versus the fly-by-nighter who has no federal tax number and usually pays cash to his help; this is what we are up against. One particular customer we have is a local doctor who lives in a very private gated community with it’s own private security and still he has seventeen video cameras placed around his walled compound and uses this modern technology that cost (and I’m quoting him) "$3000.00” in order to monitor the landscapers who are assigned to his account; he watches and times them. Last Friday, around eight o’clock he calls me and he is pissed, “Hey your guys are ripping me off, they were here only an hour and forty five minutes.” I kid not. I tried to explain to him that we had a couple of guys out Thursday and Friday and a truck went down so we were running a little late. Shit Happens. Well, he wants a reduction on his pissy $300.00 a month service rate; a reduction? Pro rate fifteen minutes? ”Yeah.” he says “I pay you good money.” I’m thinking,($3000.00 surveillance system to watch over a $300.00 yard service) "we service accounts through out the week that have on average 70,000 to 100,000 square feet of grass and landscaping including hundreds of trees and thousands of frickin' shrubs and ground cover with many sizes of valves and emitters, services provided by men who typically couldn't afford his services and are not paid what they are worth, and you want a cost reduction? Let me flog you with this, not only will I not reduce your monthly service rate to offset the fifteen minutes but I’m going to send a “Power Crew” to dance all over your account (landscaping) and make it the pride of the neighborhood, then replace you with the first needy person who calls us after seeing our commercial on t.v.

  "In the end we're all Jerry Springer show guests we just have'nt been on the show". Marilyn Manson

 

I am not ashamed to admit that I was in part raised by our family RCA 18” color t.v. Until the late seventies we only had four channels to entertain us, but entertained we were. I would spend hours at a time as a child when it was to hot too play outside during the summer watching Underdog, Adam 12, Dragnet, Star Trek, and Gilligan's Island. I am part of a unique generation and I feel privileged to have been part of a long lost part of America. My generation has grown older and yet we have clung (like Pepe Le Pew clung to FiFi) to those golden things (with a tinge of black and white) that we remember from our past while still enjoying the few things the X generation has offered. Bugs Bunny never fought against evil villains, (except maybe during the WWII era.). Nowadays, cartoons have a message or product behind it. I was always more sympathetic towards The Joker rather than Batman who appeared to be a goodie two shoes. I always thought Mrs Howell (Luvie) was more appealing than Ginger or Maryann on Gilligan's Island and I thought it was kinda cool when on some of  the episodes Kent McCord would speak jive to the occasional little black kids on Adam 12. My generation has learned not to take life too seriously and most of all we realized that there is a little Barney Fife in each of us. Seven weeks of summer then after three months, then it seems like we go from Fall straight back to Summer again. Godnat Denmark, The Serial Landscaper.

 It is a medium of entertainment which permits millions of people to listen to the same joke at the same time, and yet remain lonesome.
T. S. Eliot

  

Extra Test Tickles

Every year around this time in cities around the United States, high schools are preparing their young men for Friday Night Football. Before a single snap takes place or pass patterns are learned, there must take place try outs (aka HELL WEEK). Hell week is up to two weeks of very extreme physical conditioning.  It was usually held on the worst field with more dirt than grass and you were given enough bear crawls and water to make you throw up. The coaches are watching to see who they can count on in the last two minutes of the fourth quarter.

My freshman year of high school my father informed me that I would be attending tryouts. My limit of knowledge about sports included the names of the teams and which sport they represented. Who was I to argue with a man who knew every player’s stats better than his own family’s birth dates? Hell week quickly approached and as is typical of my family, they were late in getting the one thing I needed most, the jock strap, also known as jock, supporter or athletic supporter.  In case you aren’t familiar with this contraption, let me attempt to explain.

A jockstrap consists of a waistband (usually elastic) with a support pouch for the genitalia and two more elastic straps affixed to the base of the pouch extending to the left and right sides of the waistband at the hip. Ideally it should be sized like a woman’s bra with different strap and cup sizes but they are sized by waistband and as the waist sizes go down, so does the pouch size. Now dear ol’ mom either forgot my waist size or confused me with my little brother but she bought one that was two sizes too small. I waited until just before the first practice to try it on. Why? WTFK. I knew immediately that I was in trouble when the jock slipped on my nuts and used the express lane to my brain. “Injury is occurring! Cease and desist! NOW!!!” The jock was two sizes too small (I’m not trying to boast but come on), this couldn’t be good for anyone but I had no choice. I felt like every nerve, muscle and tendon was connected to my balls whenever I made any attempt to bend over but I had no choice but to press on and dress for tryouts. I could just barely make the slow jog that was required of us out to the field where the coaches stood. Who knew you could pass out from pain and still function as if nothing was going on? 

In my pain-induced stupor, I was able to make it through the first ten minutes of try-outs but when the coach started lining us up, five men across and ten deep, to complete our drills, I knew I had to tell the coach what was going on. Two guys ahead of me left, sweat is pouring out of every pore. One guy left and my voice is becoming more soprano, Michael Jackson style. Now it’s my turn. “Coach…I…uh…its too…well”, I could no longer voice my concern so I pulled down my gym shorts to show him what was going on. “Oh my God!” he screamed and immediately called in the medics. “Please…cut it…off (the jock strap) Thank…you…coach.”

Let’s face it, there aren’t exactly MIT graduates lining up for jobs at landscape companies. Most of the time they’re lucky if the potential employee has a valid state driver’s license and will show up every day.

My List of People who are applying for jobs in the Landscape Industry.

1.       Gangbangers

2.       Ex-gangbangers

3.       Felons

4.       Ex-felons

5.       Ex-felons on probation

6.       Burnouts

7.       Tweekers

8.       Ex-tweekers

9.       Ex-tweekers just out of rehab

10.   College drop-outs

11.   High-school drop-outs

12.   Poor white guys

13.   Short guys

14.   Poor short white guys

15.   Poor, short white guys who dropped out of college to join a gang, robbed a Circle K, then were sent to and released from jail, quit the gang then got arrested for peeing on a police cruiser while high on meth, then released on probation and sent to rehab.   

"Have you noticed that whatever sport you're trying to learn, some earnest person is always telling you to keep your knees bent?" Dave Barry

I've been lucky enough that in the time I've been washed ashore on the beaches of the landscape industry, a castaway on an island of both the savage and the savagely ridiculous, I've worked with some real top notch guys. I've also worked with some real mensos. We are half-way through the scorching heat, the second half is always the worst. Hold Fast! The Serial Landscaper.

Breakfast of Champions.. Thank you very much Mr. P. Studge.

English

Mexican

Egytian

I can recall the exact moment when I decided that a Revolution must take place. My dear mother had just placed a plate of breakfast material before me, I cast my eyes down and looked long and hard at what I was supposed to eat before school. I was appalled by what my mother considered to be breakfast food. I'm sure it was good; I don't remember. What I do remember is my dopey younger brother walked in and ordered me, his older brother, to toast two slices of bread for him; Once again, my dopey, punk little brother ordered me to make him toast. I could not comprehend, much less believe, what I had just heard. Well I just outright refused and of course this brought a response from my dear mother that I was to make my pain in the ass little brother toast. I looked down at the plate of something that I now wanted to eat but could not, because this little jerk wanted two goddam slices of toast. I became blind with sibling rage as I pushed the toaster across the breakfast counter towards the very spot my dopey little brother had decided to sit and just at that time, and to my surprise, the toaster slid off the counter and fell right into my little bro's lap. Well I sure as hell knew that the toaster had not been used in over a couple of minutes and for a split second which seemed like an eternity,  I looked into my brother's face and could read his tiny but devious mind. Now my brother and I had a good relationship and backed each other up frequently but this opportunity was just too good for him to pass up. My brother felt the slightly warm metal sides and then in what would later be recognized as an  Academy Award winning performance, he screamed out, "IT'S BURNING ME!!" I did what any middle child would do at this moment, I ran out the sliding patio door with my dear ol' mother in pursuit. I glanced back and caught a glimpse of my mom cutting the corner like Tony Dorsett, her knees high and running in proper sprinter fashion on the balls of her feet; she was quickly gaining on me. I could see the fence and freedom in front of me and I thought I could actually make it before she caught me. It was then that the brick I had just planted my left foot on at the same time as I decided to pick up speed, gave way and caused me to stumble and my sweet dear ol mom to catch up and grab me by my p.j collar and lift me up. I had been in this crazy but loving family long enough to know what was coming next so I decided to put my hands up to block any incoming smacks. Well dear ol mom thought other wise as I heard her gasping for breath from the short sprint.

Deranged mother of singed child: "Oh, you trying to hit me?"
Frightened, freedom seeking middle child: "No!"
Deranged mother of singed child: SMACK (right-cross), SMACK (upper-cut) AND SMACK (straight) !"Now, go make your little brother some toast."

BEWARE OF THE MAN WHO WORKS HARD TO LEARN SOMETHING, LEARNS IT, AND FINDS HIMSELF NO WISER THAN BEFORE...HE IS FULL OF MURDEROUS RESENTMENT OF PEOPLE WHO ARE IGNORANT WITHOUT HAVING COME BY THEIR IGNORANCE THE HARD WAY. Kurt Vonnegut

Jewish

Insecurity and despotism have no place in the work environment or in the life of the working man (Proletariat). Working men must be made of thick skin with a high tolerance for Idiotism and most importantly, have hope. Not the hope and change B.S, but hope  in a sense he'll have a chance to do things for himself and his family; that all his hard work will count for something without expecting rewards from an unappreciative evil clown. The working man is constantly beaten down with the idea that he can be replaced at any time, so don't ask for a raise, and when you do ask for a raise, the company decides that in order for you to get a mere .50 cent raise, the employee must recite the Articles of the French Confederation in two languages (one must be German, and the other cannot be Spanish); the worker (who is just a mower) asking for the raise also must know everything about irrigation (you can never know everything and anyone who claims to has his pants on fire). Until then the evil clown expects you to keep showing up, work your ass off and never ask for a raise again.  I see how hard these under-paid guys work and when they are told that if they work hard and produce they'll be rewarded, when in truth it's often for nothing, there is nothing I can do for them. This is why there is such a huge revolving door in the landscape industry.

MY LIST OF PREFERRED BREAKFAST MATERIAL

1. Meats: Bacon is good but fried hot dogs are better.
2. Veggies: Anything diced and fried.
3. Poultry: Chicken in any of its various forms.
4. Drink: Coffee (but I've had beer at times, and its not too bad)

Someday liberation from the Evil Clown will come, till then, Good night Arizona! The Serial Landscaper

"Confused or just Pretentious"

"Sometimes I'm confused by what I think is really obvious. But what I think is really obvious obviously isn't obvious." Micheal Stipe

You can tell a lot about the new guy by the pair of boots he wears, or lack there of. I can understand that the guy hasn't worked in some time and lacks the bucks for the simple but torturous Wal-mart work boot (which we shall from this point on refer to as " Bear-Traps") or even a pair of combat boots worn by some fungus ridden boot tramp who decided to donate them to a local thrift store. The store then quickly, in a assembly line fashion, wipes, polishes, prices (usually about 25.00 dollars) and promptly places them out on the sales floor in a store that permeates with the lingering scent of donated feet. There is always the new guy who shows up wearing tennis shoes or even cowboy boots. Now, try to imagine how your feet would feel after 8 hours of stomping, kicking, pushing or folding wrapped in a steel-toed cinder block. This tells me the guy hasn't worked in such a long time he either had to sell them for food or has eaten them as a food substitute. In other words, before you hand a piece of equipment that cost well over $300.00 to an inexperienced laborer who will be using the $300.00, high rpm, flesh tearing, eye damaging, pet maiming, piece of equipment in an open area, around parked cars or sliding glass doors, you better look at his feet. A lot of times he's just down on his luck and needs a few years of working outdoors in order to learn a few things about his feet, like NOT spending his hard earned money on those worthless Walmart boots that wreck your feet; they should put the people who manufacture and sell them in prison for a long time. So do yourself a favor, invest in a decent pair of boots.

  

In my research, I discovered a very interesting blog site titled "The Character Therapist" that has provided a lot of relevant information. I have looked through the door of perception in the landscape industry and I discovered that all too often, it is ruled by Erikson's 5th stage of Psychosocial Development, "Identity vs. Role". In other words CONFUSION. I assume (never ass-u-me) that landscaping is like most other industries; it is common that a buffer exist between the check signer and the check casher (worker), if not for the purpose of directing the interest of the company, at the very least to confuse the shit out of everybody, I guess, because at times it just seems more logical to avoid another ego on the way down. By that, I mean passing on information through a person who feels, for some inexplicable reason, that he or she must add their 2 cents worth of input (bullshit) so that when a "Job well done" is in order, the Pretentious bastard gets a piece of the credit. Why is that?

Nietzsche said it best "As refined fare serves a hungry man as well as and no better than a coarse food, the more pretentious artist will not dream of inviting the hungry man to his meal." I guess what I'm trying to say is don't give a man a trench shovel and then ask him to dig a 100 foot trench and then, when it is completed, tell him you could have done it better and faster with a back hoe. Sticky, sticky. Whether the weather be fine, whether the weather be not, whether the weather be cold, whether the weather be hot, we'll weather the weather, whatever the weather, whether we like it or not. Good night, Arizona I could hear the sun sizzle on it's way down. Happy belated Hari Merdeka in the United States of America, The Serial Landscaper.

EVEL VS EVIL

EVEL KNIEVEL

VS

EVIL CLOWN

One of the greatest heroes of my childhood is the legendary, Evel Knievel. A daredevil and entertainer extraordinaire, he has lived and eventually died the life of a true "Warrior". He has been resurrected once again for a face-off against a person of notorious fame, the Boss.. no wait I mean the Evil Clown. I was inspired to put them head to head in a battle of Honor, Ability, and Sexiness (I can't believe I used that last word, but we must stick). So without further ado let's begin the Battle.

Honor: In the 1970's Evel Knievel was jumping over anything that you could line up between two 75 foot ramps. Cars, trucks, buses even a tank full of sharks. Evel would race up the ramp at speeds up to 80 miles an hour and soar his Harley Davidson XR-750 over the tops of wrecked vehicles and usually he'd have a van or some other high profiled object at the very end. Imagine jumping over your truck and trailer with, oh lets say, a 17 H.P Bobcat 48" Commercial Walkbehind Mower. YOW!! As for the "Evil Clown"  he is polishing the boots of his superiors and anyone who would be stupid enough to to be his friend. Clowns in general are about colored hair wigs, make-up, and outlandish costume ideas which evolve to promote their actions to an audience (anybody stupid enough to listen). Evel Knievel wins in this area because he had the "Stones" to follow through with his actions, not just words. He told his fans, "when you give your word to somebody that you're going to do something you've gotta do it" and then proved it to them repeatedly. I'm so sick of empty words, promises and bullshit. 

Ability: Ability is a tough one since both Evil clown and Evel were both considered entertainers, but since we are kinda dancing around the undertone of another topic, the differences are clear. Evel was a man of many quotes and sayings, one of my favorites is the "Gladiator"."I am the last gladiator in the new Rome I go into the arena and compete against destruction and I win and next week, I go out there and do it again, civilization being what it is and all...we have very little choice about our life the only thing really left to us is a choice about our death and mine will be glorious". Evil Clown, well let's start with the fact that John Wayne Gacy was a clown (Pogo the Clown) and also a mass murderer. It the Clown (Stephen King) was a very bad clown indeed. I have to add that the fear of clowns, (coulrophobia) is a deeply rooted fear that most of us recall from childhood. The true character of a clown by definition is that clowns are actually characters of authority. They are often serious, all knowing (even if they aren't particularly smart), bossy, and cocky. The evil clown is the ultimate authority type figure; he serves the role of the "Straight man" and sets up a situation that can be turned funny. Imagine a clown as your boss coming up with ridiculous reasons to keep you busy or bust your balls just because they can. 

Evil Clown (slappy clown voice): Hey you! Yeah you! Do know how many branches are on this tree? 

Crew leader: Uh.. thirty?

Evil Clown: No! A gazillion and I want  half of them removed before you go home.

I've got to give this one to the Evil Clown in the "Ability" category; since the evil clown which I'm referring to really has the ability to piss everyone off.

Sexiness: O.K, now its tied 1 to 1 and my last category is "Sexiness". I know it seems wrong but trust me on this. I don't mean sexy as in what most people think of as sexy but sexy as in "Nice Jumpsuit". Also, as in wit, just one more Evel quote and its gotta be this one "You can come to a point in your life when you really don't care what people think about you, you just care what you think about yourself." Now I can relate to this. Evil Clown just spews out what he knows and only what he thinks he knows, even if he acts like your buddy trust me he isn't. He is part of an organization that thinks you have too many peanuts in your bag as it is, while building their own circus with bigger and prettier toys while you toil and work your ass off. Evel wins this one because he related himself to the working man and for that one moment while he jumped my hands were on the handle bars and I was jumping right along side with him. For a split second I was a daredevil; how I wanted that jumpsuit. And the winner is.... EVEL KNIEVEL!!!  Thank you for shrinking your nuts in this awful lousy humidity and scorching heat, in two days they owe us. The Serial Landscaper.

"Idiot Control"

I often refer back to the stupid mistakes and dumb-ass things I've said. For instance one day while playing in my room I said:

Baby serial landscaper: "Don't get wise bubble eyes or I'll cut you peanut size."

This brought my father into my room wielding his belt and obviously very pissed off at somebody (me).

Dad: "What the hell do you know about penises?"
Baby serial landscaper: What..?

WHACK!

It is not  that difficult to relate things that have happened to me as a kid growing up, in a not so dysfunctional family, with parents who I guess never read a book on parenting, to everyday situations that occur while employed by people who are spending large amounts of money on people, equipment and material. These very same Employers, who are lot like let's say my Parents, and the Managers who in this case are lot like my older brother. As a "Field Supervisor" my responsibilities, above and beyond the typical landscape maintenance responsibilities, are pretty much keeping an eye on the potential crisis that could arise out of nowhere. A guy that works with me coined the term "Idiot Control"; I instantly liked it because it covers everything and everyone including myself.

IDIOT CONTROL SITUATIONS

1. An employee (the idiot) arrives a little late in the morning and as he is approaching his truck, walks by my older brother (manager) and feels compelled to talk to him about an account that he (the idiot) isn't even working on that day. As I have been through this before, I know now that I must intercept the idiot before he can open his mouth. "Hey (idiot)! Late again, you worthless agitator. Go to work and let's be quick about it!" or a simple blow to the back of his head with my trench shovel will do the trick.
2. While fueling up and going over the day's plan with my brother (the manager), a crew member (a different idiot) interrupts us by asking for a new rake. Before my brother can lay into us with a forty-five minute demonstration of how to operate a rake properly and save gas doing it, I can quickly jerk the conversation by asking my brother if he has any information on a new plant, the Patronesiditious (fictious name), giving the crew member (idiot) time to realize he has made a terrible mistake and now must make a break for it.
3. Over the radio a crew member asks another crew member a question about how to make a repair on a leaking irrigation system. No big deal right? Wrong. Unfortunately my older brother (manager) is usually listening and that is enough for him to break in with a mind blowing display of embarrassing and humiliating reasons why it shouldn't be done that way. The damage is done and it is impossible to debate anything over two way radios. I can avoid this situation by calling out over the radio "CHICKEN LITTLE! CHICKEN LITTLE! GODDAMMIT!"  

 I have experienced many of the same situations most of you have but what I don't understand is why do we continue to make the same mistakes. I know to err is human, but "idiot control" can resolve this. The manager has the authority and will use it like my older brother; He will punish you with things you don't see coming and like my parents, the Employers, will just give you more work as long as you show up everyday. While my brother cared about me he would never pass up an opportunity to let me have it with both barrels. My point is this: I know it is hot as hell out there and what you are asked to do at times seems impossible, especially when you are short-handed, but keep in mind that there are fifty-two weeks in a year and not much changes in this profession outside of the faces of the people you work with. Always remember: DON'T FEED THE MONKEYS! (managers).  I hope it is 78 degrees tommorrow but more than likely not. 10 weeks of heat remaining fellow agitators. The Serial Landscaper