RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,390
(Tom and the potboilers of Metuchen) B&N pt. SEVEN
Over the course of time, I received all kinds
to work with. They kept sending people and
I kept using what was sent. To me, it was
always enjoyable and I wasn't really at all
that judgmental. Not to say I 'didn't care' -
because I really did, but I viewed each
entry as a fresh 'kid' to help out anew.
If that was, perhaps, a bit too missionary
of a position, I always remembered what
my friend Eric said, that I was the 'best
boss he ever had, who didn't even act like
a boss, more like a Dad.' Whatever meaning
that may have had, I accepted it.
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Damnedest thing now is to remember names.
I really can't, often enough. We got one of
those girls once, with a modern name, like
Zoe or Leah or Deva, whatever. She was a
really nice girl, but suffered from a severe
case of naivete. We were mostly males, OK,
and she'd come to work looking very ripe.
Cleavage, super tight shorts and all the rest,
bending down in front of people, etc. Plus
her innocent conversations somehow always
led her into saying weirdly inappropriate
things. We humored the situation, and for
the most part it was taken care of by Sue,
(the actual Store Manager), but it really
went on too long - and I was surely glad
nothing happened. The next guy we got
was named Tom. Tom actually lived in
Metuchen, about five blocks from me,
which I didn't know about until he told
me. He had a wife, and a young daughter,
about 3 years old. Pot smoker extraordinaire,
he did his daily job well, sometimes in a
spacey fashion, but OK. Interesting with
conversations, but, I'll admit, he and Brad
were like oil and water, so that was a
situation that always needed to be
watched, as Tom was liable to fly off
the handle at something Brad said, at
any moment. Alas, it was all mostly
and usually about sex. Tom worked well,
and stayed to task. It was going good,
until one day he was arrested. Bummer.
The Metuchen Police had raided his house
and basement and discovered his pot-drying
and drug-laboratory in his basement and
just as swiftly took him away. I read it in
the local paper the next day. That was the
end of Tom for me; I never saw him again.
Good enough anyway, and always did like
to keep 'unknown' things at a safe arm's
length. For a few years later, as I'd pass
Tom's house, I'd wonder what had happened.
Were the wife and daughter OK? Keeping
the house? Not in arrears? Was he still
locked up somewhere? I probably should
have stopped and asked, but I didn't know
her and she didn't know me, so I just let
it go.
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A few other people who were NOT employees
also became erstwhile 'friends' of mine. One,
small, guy was super intense, always trouncing
around in the store with a bag and a theory,
willing to stop and talk at any point and to
great lengths about his newest observation
or theory. (Just about every observation he
made did also cause an accompanying
'theory' he'd make). He always had a nice,
jaunty walking stick, and wore a hiking
cap. Elfin looking. He was, maybe 40
or 45, and I forget his name. We also had
some woman, of great girth, from Princeton
University in some guest-lecturer situation,
who was also a MacArthur Fellowship winner.
Her subject was Physics, or Theoretical Physics,
or somesuch, and she was always deeply involved
in preliminary calculations for this or that and
always wanted to talk. I'd eventually just begin
to steer clear of her if I knew she was there,
(cafe, coffee, almost daily, same seat, and,
bizarrely, same weird blue, flowing skirt and
shirt ensemble). Mostly everyday anyway.
Then there was the local leader of the Seniors,
men who hung out and traded brag stories and
basic BS, daily, in the 'retirement cafe' seats, as
I called them. The same 6 or 7 blabby guys,
usually led by a retired Dentist - who was
very friendly, monied, and easy to talk with.
They'd mostly dominate the morning-to-midday
cafe. They'd all look at books, and sometimes
pile the table with them, but they seldom bought.
Same with magazines. The coolest, loudest, and
most voluble of these people was a weird retired
guy named or called 'Buddy.' I liked Buddy, and
we were friends, H lived about 2 blocks down the
street, (Raritan Ave.? I think it was called), in a
solo, ground-floor apartment, by the First Aid
Squad. Buddy was an ex-military guy, and one
of those guys who always wore his squadron
cap and insignia, and at the drop of a hat would
gladly go on about it and his exploits. Buddy,
for all annoyances and pestering ways, I admit
did have one of the greatest and weirdest money
making schemes I'd heard. He was always
reading movie books, Broadway stories and
tales of the old days, 1940's era theater district
and film stuff. I guess he read pretty well
because he seemed to absorb anything. It all
went, by HIS telling, something like this:
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Buddy liked to walk the Broadway district. He
take the NYC bus, from Clark, three or four
times a week. Filled with Broadway lore, and
old personalities and events, he had a hook up
with some tour-guide person with whom he'd
arrange the time and place rendezvous to be in
the area of the guy's street tour. The tour guy, in
his spiel about Broadway and the Theater District,
would be going on about something or someone,
and, sighting Buddy, feign surprise and call him
over. (Buddy would get 25 dollars, back then, and
whatever 'tips' the people would give him). The
walking tour guide would bring up something
that may have happened there, and introduce
Buddy as a street-guy who'd been around forever
and still recalled many of the old days and old
occurrences. The guy would say, 'Oh, Buddy, do
tell us about the day you remember Betty Grable
and Joan Crawford arguing about Clark Gable at
the old McSweeney's Restaurant...' And Buddy
would go on with some cockamamie story on
that subject, or any other. Any other play. Any
other occurrence. He was smooth, quick, and
quite glib and listenable with any of the people
and tales he'd come up with. The crowd always
was left satisfied, believing it all. I was always
amazed by his stories, and, true or untrue, I
know where he got most all of his info! The
only thing that annoyed me about Buddy, was
his constant mistake in saying 'I took the bus
to the Port of Authority Terminal.' (It's 'Port
Authority' - NOT Port of Authority). He made
the same mistake every time!
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