Monday, February 18, 2008

Chapter 4: Assignments

“Alright, Alright folks, lets hop to now, look lively,” a red-faced tornado of a woman says as she speedily floats around the workroom table. The woman is named Miranda. She is the utilities meter reader area lead. She only has one speed in life, full. She is a sixty five year old reformed hippie half out of the closet lesbian and no one in the office can tell if she’s on speed or not. Balancing magically in her arms are stacks of papers and the electrical devices. The papers are the meter routes for each of the readers for the day. The electrical devices are big gray calculator looking mothers with rubber bumpers on the corners. They hold all of the information the readers will need that day to find, locate and record their meter assessments. Because they are heavy, hard and sometimes serve as canine defense weapons, lovingly they are referred to by the readers as “Thumpers.” Leonard and Roni have both had to knock dogs unconscious with a Thumper to save their Carhart double knees from getting a few holes and their asses from getting a tetanus shot.

Crazy speedfreak Miranda is passing out the routes and Thumpers to the readers. Routes are like slot machines mixed with seniority. A reader never knows what they’re going to get, but the longer they’ve been there the better chances they have of getting a good route. Everyone has their niches, specialties, unfair duties and special routes. Brandon is the bitch of the group, and he’s hungover. He pulls the worst routes. Today he got a CellNet route in industrial Port of Tacoma Factory and Warehouse district. Everyone hates CellNet routes.

In the not to distant meter reading past, all meters were read by sight contact. But with the advent of cellular communication in the early nineties, electrical, gas, and water meters have been slowly gotten replaced by cellular signal and read emitting reading units. Inevitably, ten percent of these transmitters are faulty because of clouds, batteries or cover, which basically means that partly drunk, young, and pissed of spiky haired Brandon has to go out into the industrial alleyways and underbellies of the shipyards of an armpit of a town and search out the last remaining non functioning little suckers and read them by sight. To Brandon, its like an eight hour hell-like wild goose chase treasure hunt. These days all readers dispise.

“Bullshit! Port of Tacoma again?” Brandon moans, “Why do you hate me Miranda? Why do you insist on ruining my life?”
“Brandon, quite your bitchin’ we all were rookies once, deal with it!” Miranda says back in a surly voice as she frantically waddles by.

“A crap, Puyallup again, I hate that city,” Jesse says upon receiving here Thumper.
“But you’re so good at it Jesse!” Miranda pipes up sarcastically.

“Old town Tacoma, that’s what seniority is all about my friends,” Mike softly beams. Old town Tacoma is a nice route because readers get to be near the water in a nice neighborhood. Mike fantasizes about living there someday when his kid gets on his feet.

“Oh Boy! The town of Roy,” Roni cackles.
“East or West?” Leonard asks.
“West today, probably east tomorrow,” Roni returns.
“And for you my boy, my darling Leonard, you get River Road Orting,” Miranda says proudly.
“OOOH” the crowd of meter readers says in unison.
“I don’t care what you say, I like it out there,” Leonard states aloud.

“Whatever Lenny! You say hi to Miss Wernickie for me wontcha?” Brandon snickers. Everyone busts up laughing. Miss Wernickie pulled has pulled a shotgun on multiple readers over the years. Her female Rottweiller Abigail is nothing to screw around with either.

“Sorry I’m late Miranda,” a blond, meager, timid boy says as he rounds the corner of the nearest cubicle. The boy is actually a man in some ways. His name is Phil and he’s an asexual feminine drummer in a Radiohead rip off band. He’s a flake, and always late, and he’s wrecked his truck three times on the job. One wreck involved a lawn jockey. He’s been on the verge of termination for three years. Phil also gets laughed at for drinking Yerba Mate from a Peruvian mug.

“Well karma’s a bitch Phil, McChord Air Force Base for you today,” Miranda replies.
“That’s what I get for being late, I’ll be her on time more often,” but it is just as meager of a retort as Phil’s sweater is to the Puget morning chill.

Everyone but Leonard and Roni got CellNet routes. But, out in the woods, the boonies, banjo country, the sticks, the bum frick of Egypt, this technology hasn’t reached yet. The Puget Sound runs down the water way of the indent of northwest Washington. The further east you go from this corridor, from Seattle to Olympia, on your way into the Cascade Mountains, the further you are stepping into some of the creepiest communities of back woods whacko’s in Washington. This is the realm of Leonard K. Humple. Leonard is widely accepted by the crew as the backwoods specialist. Roni used to be, but Leonard, for he is at home amongst his own kind, emerged only recently as the go to specialist for this area. Leonard and Roni typically work as a team to split this diverse and vast sprawl of trailers, meth labs, and forgotten husks of towns all along the wooded valleys pouring out of the wild Cascades into the I-5 corridor. Leonard, Roni, Mike, Brandon, Jesse, Phil, Miranda, Eleanor, and Miss Wernickie head out for the day.

1 comment:

Hal Iverson said...

nice. seems like a set up chapter. Oh what adventures will Leonard face?...