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