Black Labs and Black-Rimmed Glasses

'A Day in the Life'

The rain began to grow more heavy as the road stretched out before John. It was exactly nine fifty two a.m. according to the glowing digital numbers from his car radio. The road shook his car from side to side and up and down, just as it did every other day on his way to work. No amount of county funded road work seemed to make a lasting difference on the old gravel road known as “Old # 4”. At least that’s what the road sign read.

            Fields were to John’s right and he noticed how much the corn had seemed to shoot up in the past few days with the rain feeding the thirsty ground. Summer always brought heavy rains in this part of the South. It was something that seemed to come constantly, then not come for months at the time. John always felt that it must be frustrating to be a farmer in this state.

            He looked to his left and saw the little eggshell colored house. As he did every morning he took notice of the fenced in dog kennel that stood on the left side of the modest house. More than the kennel he noticed the dog that resided inside. It was a medium sized black Labrador retriever. John wasn’t sure of the sex, but he always assumed, for no real reason, that it was a boy.

            “Poor guys still there.” he thought to himself as he watched the dog turn and walk toward his igloo shaped doghouse. He had taken notice of the dog immediately after the previous Christmas. It was a small puppy when it began living with the family in the eggshell colored house. Those first few weeks he never saw the puppy in that fence. He only saw him in the yard chasing around a little blonde haired girl who looked to be about ten. Then when the puppy started to become a lanky adolescent he never again saw the little girl playing with him. Now he seemed to slowly waste away in that kennel.         

            Things like this frustrated John. His rational side attempted to tell him that perhaps they still let the dog out of the fence to give him affection, exercise, socialization, and all the things that a young dog would find fulfilling.  After all the only time he came by this house was on his way to and from work. Heck, for all he knew the dog could live in the house all day, except for the hours of nine a.m. and six p.m.

            That would have been a very nice thing to believe, but John’s cynical side wouldn’t let those thoughts float around in his head for too long. He knew deep down that the dog never got out of that kennel anymore. In all likelihood he only saw the owners when they were on their way to their cars or in the evening when he got his daily feeding.

            He had seen this situation a million times before. Some idiot goes and buys a puppy because they think it will be a great gift for their kid, then the puppy  grows a little too big or acts too much like a puppy or the kid just loses interest and then the puppy is discarded to the yard like an old toy.  This was the deep South and this story was fairly common. In this part of the state dogs were looked at more as hunting machines, expendable entertainment, or in the case of the pure breeds, expensive merchandise rather than living creatures with complicated emotions.

            This was not a good way to start out the day. He didn’t want to think about the dog anymore, or the injustice that ran so prevalent in the South where animals were concerned. He tried to think about work, but that didn’t exactly make him feel like singing either.

              He had worked for the past six years as a claims adjuster for the southeastern branch of the Veteran’s Hospital. It wasn’t the most exciting job in the world, and if truth be told it could be downright depressing. All day he filed claims for veterans who at one time had served their country proudly and were now reduced to a social security number and  disability. While it wasn’t exciting, John had always had the feeling that he was helping those who had helped our country, and at the end of the day that was gratifying.

            However, the branch, like the rest of the country had been in financial trouble lately. Over the past several months there had been several people laid off and this had caused an almost constant sense of impending doom throughout the office. John’s paycheck and benefits package had recently been trimmed, but he told himself that he was lucky to have a job at all. He didn’t want to complain, after all he only had himself to take care of. This economy would have to pick up eventually and he could deal with it until then.

            As he pulled into the parking lot the rain had progressed to a heavy downpour and showed no signs of letting up. He turned his car off and looked into the back floor board where he kept his compact umbrella. Of course, it was still at home resting in the corner of his doorway recovering from its last use the week before. “Beautiful.” John  muttered to himself. The front door of the V.A. building was about  fifteen feet away  and was all but invisible in the rain. John lifted his coat over his head , put his briefcase close to his chest and opened his door. He sprinted to the building and almost slipped as he jerked the door open and hopped inside. His jacket and shirt were soaked, but he had managed to protect his old briefcase that his father had given him when he started college ten years ago.

            A few irritated looks greeted John as his co-workers peeked around the corners of their cubicles. He gave a crooked smile and an uncomfortable shrug as he peeled off his coat which was now heavy with the rain. As usual there was an  ominous silence that  filled the office. He hung his coat on the coat rack that stood by the door and began to make his way to his cubicle.

            Some of the irritated looks turned to sheer disdain as his wet shoes began to squeak loudly on the paneled floors and break the silence that everyone had grown so accustomed to. He made his way to his cubicle and placed the tattered briefcase on the floor beside his desk. Looking at his inbox he was relieved to see that he only had three claims to review thus far.

            He looked at the oversized black and white office clock that hung above his neighbor’s cubicle. It was exactly ten o’ clock. He stretched and that led to a yawn and that led to his eyes becoming much heavier than they had been just a moment ago. “Just jump into the claims. The day goes by faster when you keep your head down and just work.” he thought to himself.

            The claims were basic, run of the mill disabilities. It was the kind that he had done a million times before. They had all they needed to get his recommendation. There were written reports from family doctors and the doctors who attended them on the scene of their wounding. All three had impeccable military records and there were absolutely no flags that jumped up. So, John gave them all his recommendation for their claims and then decided to have his lunch.

            Filing those three claims took about two hours so it was a little after one p.m. before John entered the dining area with his brown bag in hand. Today he brought his typical Thursday lunch, a ham and turkey sandwich with a small bag of salted pretzels. In the mini fridge he kept a six pack of Dr. Pepper. There had been times when a can of the soda would disappear from time to time. The last time that happened John wrapped grey electrical tape around the remaining drinks and wrote his name on the tape with a red sharpie. Since then none of his drinks had been taken.

            By the time he took his seat in the dining area it was all but empty. Arriving as late as he had today meant everyone had eaten lunch before him. He preferred to dine alone and enjoy his meal without having to make small talk with a co-worker.

            As he was taking his seat he was approached by his supervisor Gwen. She was only a little older than John and to him had never seemed smart enough to have a job with as much responsibility as this one had. She was often stumbling over her words and just looked lost. He had also noticed that she seemed to have aged very rapidly in the two short years she had been there. She was attractive enough: tall and fairly thin with strawberry blonde hair about down to her shoulders. However, John may have thought she was attractive, but he was never attracted TO her. There just never seemed to be a lot going on behind her eyes.

            There was one thing that John had always found appealing about her, if not attractive. She always wore thin black-rimmed glasses that had points at the ends of them. He had heard them called cat-eye glasses. It wasn’t so much the glasses themselves as how she wore them that he found appealing. John realized that glasses like those had become trendy again over the past few years. Retro, it was called. Yet, Gwen did not seem like the type of person to follow trends. She probably had little clue what was trendy and what wasn’t in the ever changing world of pop culture fashion. John believed that she wore them because she genuinely like them, either that or because they were simply convenient. Whatever the case John liked them.

“Hi, John. How’s your day going so far?” she asked as she pushed her glasses up her nose using her index finger.

“Its going well. How about you?”

“Its great. Um, listen, John, could I speak to you about something today?” She was looking down at her feet and John wondered why she was suddenly not making eye contact with him. That had never been a problem before. “Sure. We can talk right now if you like.” he answered.

“I can’t. I mean, I have to get back to my office right now. A lot of calls to make today. Do you think you could stop by my office when you finish for the day?”

“Sure, Gwen. That will be fine.” As he answered he realized what this was all about, and he was dumbfounded to say the least.

            John had not been approached by a woman in ages. He wasn’t sure what he should say to her. He had never really had any interest in dating Gwen, but who knows, maybe there was more to her than meets the eye. After all he wasn’t getting any younger, and over the years he had noticed that opportunities to meet women were slowly dwindling away. The only place he went besides work was his church and he had grown up there so there was little possibility of meeting someone new. Maybe this was what he needed.

            He did his best to return to his day’s work after Gwen‘s unexpected invitation. But it was impossible. A relationship was something that he wasn’t even sure he wanted, but the prospect for some reason excited him. Perhaps, it was just because it was something new and different in a routine that was becoming more and more tedious. Over the past several years each day started and ended the same. John recently had been spending a lot of time praying that something, anything in his life would change. Something as unexpected as this was a much needed distraction from the monotony.

            There were two new forms in his basket when he returned from lunch, and that was fine with him. He had hope that these would keep his mind occupied, and for a brief time they did. The standard procedure was followed and all the t’s were crossed and the i’s were dotted.  Then as he was completing his final form he noticed something strange. There was a small sentence written at a blank spot on the bottom of the final page. For some, reason John was nearly moved to tears by what it said.

            The name of the person who filled out the form was Gretta Wilson. Her son served two tours in Vietnam and was currently living with her. According to his doctors report he had lost a lot of his self awareness  and short term memory due to years of extreme alcohol abuse. His name was Robert and, according to his form his mother was his only living relative, and now she was in need of help with Robert’s medical expenses. 

            John could picture the little old lady caring for her son who had sacrificed mind and body in service to his country and received nothing in return but an addiction to help him cope with memories and nightmares. Most times he could feel better about these stories. Usually he would just put his approval on them, send them down the line, and feel that he had helped, but that wasn’t the case this time. He gave the form his approval, but felt a weight on his shoulders that came from Gretta Wilson’s final personalized sentence at the end of the form. He wasn’t sure why, but those words stayed with him for the rest of the day.

            The oversized black and white clock now said that it was four o clock. It was time for him to go meet Gwen in her office. His mind had been distracted by Gretta Wilson and he hadn’t thought about Gwen for the past couple of hours. Now it was time to see her and he had no idea what he would say or how he would handle the situation. He made a quick stop in the men’s room to look himself over. He decided that he didn’t look his best, but he had looked worse. “I need a shave and haircut.” he thought as he looked at himself from side to side. Then turning sideways he stood up straight, putting his hand on his stomach, which seemed to have started growing for the first time in his life the second he turned twenty nine. “I also need to lose this.”

            The hall to Gwen’s office seemed longer than he remembered. It was the executive’s hall and he had only been on it a handful of times. He never had much reason to go there. Her office was the last one on the left. The plaque on the door read “Gwen Anderson. Claims Branch Manager“. It was a relief to see her last name, because John immediately realized when he looked at the plaque that he didn’t know it. After he lightly tapped on the door he heard her voice say, “Come in, please.”

            She was sitting at her desk writing when he came in. She looked up at him and smiled. “Have a seat, John. I will be with you as soon as….” she got distracted and looked down at the paper she was signing as if to double check an error. She signed it and looked up at John. She squinted at him in order to keep her glasses from sliding down her nose. In that second he was reminded of Steve Martin’s invention the Opti-Grab in the movie “The Jerk” and he had to stop himself from laughing about the thought. Instead, he just smiled timidly at her.

                        “How are you, John?” she asked tilting her head and giving him a smile that he felt was not very sincere. Then all of the sudden he realized that he was in this office for reasons totally different from what he had originally thought. A sudden jolt of anxiety shot through him and he almost jumped . The sudden jolt was now turning into a creeping and disseminating crawl that began on his neck below the hair line and traveled all the way to the soles of his feet.

            “You’ve been a loyal and very hard working employee, but…well..” her voice drifted in and out. Some things John heard and others he didn’t. Doing his best to not look stunned he quickly sat up straight and closed his gaping mouth. “It’s just that this is a hard time for the branch, and we are having to cut every corner possible.” That sentence sounded rehearsed to John. It was the only one she had gotten out completely without having to stop and give several seconds’ thought to her next word.

            Those black-rimmed glasses were tainted now. He looked at himself in them and doing so he learned, very quickly, that the one thing he had liked about Gwen was now something that he hated. It wasn’t real, his idea of her in those glasses: some innocent oblivious woman, unaware of her own appeal. What was real was what looked back at him now. There was a big piece of him reflecting in those glasses that he had not wanted to see, but there it was staring back at him as big as life.

            This job that he was currently losing had become his identity. Listening to Gwen spout off about  severance packages and excellent references he had this epiphany. All these years he was coming to work , doing his job, at times going through the motions and slowly this occupation was engulfing him and making him totally and fully its own. Over those years his friends had drifted away, his hobbies and interests had disappeared, his social life had become non-existent, and he had even compromised his own beliefs at times. Now the only thing that he had been getting out of bed for was gone. The anxiety quickly turned to sadness.

            When she finished she paused and gave John a sad, apologetic smile. It was obvious that she wanted him to leave her office so that this awkward display could be over and she could get in her car to head home. But, he didn’t leave immediately . He sat in that uncomfortable metal chair with the foam seat and back, and he stared  at his feet.  He wanted to move but wasn’t able to immediately. He finally looked up at Gwen and managed to thank her and the company for the opportunity. Then, his legs were ready to work, so he left.

            There wasn’t a lot in his desk to box up. There was a picture of him with his parents that was taken when he graduated college. It was in a cracked and dusty frame, but it was John’s favorite picture of his family. There was a small action figure that he had found once while he was walking in the building, and that went into the box as well. The rest of his contents were his own personal office supplies and a few magazines and books that he had brought in to read during slow periods between claims. He had to smile at the fact that he had been there for all those years and now just minutes later it was as if he had never been there. It was either smile or cry.

            He was grateful that this had happened at the end of the day. He didn’t want a lot of sympathetic faces giving him the “poor guy” look. He didn’t think he could handle that. The office was nearly empty by the time he walked out the front door for the last time.  The rain was still coming down. It hadn’t stopped all day, but John was now grateful for it. “I may go home and sleep for several days. This is good sleeping weather,” he thought.

            The very small and quiet optimistic side of his mind tried to speak up and let him know that this was a new freedom that could be full of new possibilities. However, that quiet voice was soon silenced by the much louder voice of pessimism that he had grown more comfortable with over the years. What was there out there right now? The economy was in a huge downfall, and there was no sure sign of light over any foreseeable horizon. “If all else fails there’s always the old grocery store,” he thought to himself, but as he thought it he wondered if he would be able to humble himself to the point of pushing a cart full of groceries for someone else like he had when he was seventeen. He hoped he would be able to, but he doubted he would.

            What worried him was what he would do with himself now that his identity was gone. He wasn’t sure who he was without the job. He had no interests now, nor any desire to rekindle old ones. His friends were all but gone, most of them married and starting families at this point. It would just be him kicking around his little two bedroom, one bath house. The thought frightened him more than he realized.

            Then as he turned onto Old # 4 a thought came to him. It wasn’t the first time he had had this idea, but it was the first time he gave it real consideration. The thought now excited him and made that quiet voice of optimism speak loudly in a way it hadn’t since he was in his early twenties. This idea that he had put in the back of his mind for the first time made total sense and felt, at this moment more right that anything.

            He pulled his little silver Pontiac Grand Am onto the ditch bank that was just in front of the little eggshell colored house. The rain still fell down heavily, and for the second time today John was grateful for that. He sat in the car for a minute just to be sure that there were no cars in the yard or any nosey neighbors staring out of windows. The little neighborhood looked deserted and quiet at the moment.  The rain was now progressing to a heavy downpour and he knew that it was now or never.

            With more force than intended he jumped from his car and slammed the door. It made a loud thud and he stopped momentarily to look at the neighbors’ windows. None of them seemed to have heard. When he got to the kennel the black lab was huddled comfortably inside of his igloo doghouse. He gave John a curious look when he saw him fumbling with the latch to open the gate, but he didn’t leave the dry doghouse.

            When he was inside of the chain link kennel he bent down in front of the dog house and almost whispered, “Come here, fella.” The dog gave him a curious look as he sniffed the air and slowly stood up. He hesitantly began to walk toward him with a tail that wagged lazily. The dirt inside of the kennel was turning to mud around John’s feet and it seemed like it took the dog a lifetime to leave his doghouse.

            John bent down and scooped him up in his arms. He knew he wouldn’t have the time to walk him to his car. The dog was heavier than he thought he would be. “He didn’t look this big from the road.” he thought to himself, but it didn’t matter.

            When he reached his car he was out of breath, despite the surge of adrenaline that was coursing through him. He opened the back door on the driver’s side and gently placed his new friend in the seat. The dog remained calm and never put up a fight. John looked back at his new lab in the rear view as he sped away and smiled. Now that sentence that Gretta Wilson had written on her son’s claim form came back to his mind, “All my boy ever wanted was freedom.”

             THE END