"You city workers have no respect. Are you going to leave that diesel engine running, or what? My tax dollars are paying for that fuel! Four nineteen a gallon!" John Archibald had a reputation for harassing city utility workers for years. Since I came to work for the city as a water meter maintenance tech last year, I've had at least four encounters with the eighty or so year old Mr. Archibald whenever I was working anywhere on Jones Street; it seemed he always had an eye out for us and always had a grievance of some kind.
"Mr. Archibald, I'm sorry. I needed to turn this meter back on real quick. I'm on my way out”, I said with a smile. Many of the other guys despise him, and dismiss him as "a grumpy, tired old man". I make it point to be extra courteous to him. My partner, Brian, scowled under his breath from the passenger seat as I climbed back into the rumbling F-250.
"And the city ain't need no two guys doing one simple job!" Mr. Archibald yelled as the diesel chugged down Jones Street.
"That man needs a life", Brian said.
We headed down Jones, and into downtown to complete our work orders. We had several new meter installations for businesses at the emerging Riverwalk shopping district, which consists of several newly renovated and colorful Victorian buildings.
"Dude, this place used to be so bogus and nasty", Brian remarked as I parked in front of an orange Victorian house with black "6-0-2" numbers to the left its oak double doors. I thumbed through our stack of work orders, all of which were for new meter installations.
"Six-Oh-Two through Seven hundred. Eleven total", I said, as I handed five of them to Brian.
"Divide and conquer. I like it! Another early day it looks. Man, we'll be done by nine", Brian said as he grabbed his tools and five meters from the truck's side bin. It was well known that Brian loved finishing his work early, so he could do whatever he wanted. And I was certain he would soon perform his daily disappearing act.
Brian and I went down the row of freshly renovated buildings, installing two meters every five minutes.
"Cool, last one for the day!" Brian yelled from two buildings over from me. His wrench clanked as he tightened his last meter as if he was paid by the number of meters he installed each day.
"Mark, which one of these places is that new bar? I'm thirsty."
"You're just stupid and crazy", I whispered to myself as I finished my last job. "I think it's 556, Brian. It's called Patty's. It‘s a new Irish pub”. I shook my head as Brian ran off like a kid to a candy store. I worried about him getting into trouble one day, and going to a bar on city time would certainly be a huge risk for him. But, I decided to have a little fun with Brian, while keeping him out of trouble at the same time. Patty’s wasn't really a bar at all. 556 Waters Street was called Patty's, however, it was actually a beauty salon. I was dying to see the look on Brian's face upon this realization.
I followed Brian from a safe distance, so he wouldn't spot me. He ascended the white stairs at Patty's, which had no sign indicating what type of business was there. There was yet no bar sign, no salon sign, nothing, except "Patty's" in green letters above the door. Brian opened the door slowly as I ran up behind him. As the door opened, a ripping sound followed by groans filled the air.
"Can I help you boys?" a red-haired woman asked as we entered.
Blood rushed to my head as I recognized the man lying on the table in front of the woman. It was Mr. Archibald. Brian and I stood dumbfounded at the sight.
"You people have no respect. A man can't even get his back waxed around here in private!" Mr. Archibald yelled.
Brian let out a hearty, hysterical cackle as he ran outside. I could hear his roaring laughter mixed with coughing as he stumbled down the stairs.
"I apologize, maam, we had the wrong address", I said as I exited the salon, trying to remain composed until I was back on the street, at which time I collapsed to the sidewalk in a roar.
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