All in a Days' Work

Short story about actual events based on the theme "All in a Days' Work" - About events occurring in my personal life, but some fiction added. - 2200 words

     My rectangular, cloudy-white, digital alarm clock with its shiny, ebony trim chimes boldly. Blast after blast of non-resonant disorganized tones vibrate my ear drums. Waves of harmonic disturbances agitate my inner ear. And my brain recognizes these howls of sound as an early-morning wake-up call.

     Soon, my eyelids slowly lift up to expose two dark-brown, blurry and glossy orbs surrounding my coal-black pupils. I would rather close my eyes again, tightly, but I know I can't. The cacophony of tones are pesky and hazy, yet brazenly loud. It repeats without warning. In one instant, the alarm enunciates an obscenely grating wail. Like a zillion decibels of non-coherent, hard, white noise, just for a short moment. Then, the softer tones of a sweet, calm, tranquility will grace my ears, even if only for just the very next instant. 

     That moment of subdued calamity never lasts long enough. Immediately onto the next spine-chilling sound blast from an orchestra of infinitely annoying clatter; the brash and bold thud of jack-hammers. Pause. Another slightly higher pitched yelp, then another short respite of solitude, followed by one more tumultuous scream from the buzzer. Again and again. Oscillations of anguish and disgust, followed by silence and delight. One cycle, then another. Ear splitting, loud audio. Then quiet.

     It has to stop! As soon as I can read the calm, fuzzy, blueish tint of the glowing digital time display, shining brilliantly in front of the dark-blue, nearly black background of the inner clock face, I squeeze the alarm trigger and turn it off. Finally! All in a days' work.

     No, I never broke my alarm clock. I knew what it was for. Unless I had partaken in some reprehensible and exciting activities last night; you know, out cavorting with some school buddies, or maybe a date with my girlfriend, I quickly get up from my bed and devour breakfast. Usually I eat a bowl of cereal or a pop-tart. Many times, I'll have a bright, yellow banana. I always need to put something solid in my stomach before I get going in the morning. Fuel in my belly to start my day. Then I would go to high-school. Later, I might go to work at the local McDonald's fast-food restaurant when I am scheduled. All in a days' work.

     Finally, during my senior year, I didn't work as a greasy “hamburger-flipper” anymore. No more pickles, lettuce, onions, and tomatoes on a sesame-seed bun. No more Jack or Larry, the owner, and a boss whose main-purpose in life seems to be to just ruin my entire day. My new vocation was more satisfying and much more lucrative, or so I thought back then. I was happy with my new working environment, getting to work outside at “Bonded Oil”, a gas station nearly downtown. I worked as a “pump-jockey”, putting fuel in the cars and trucks, mainly trying to save money for college. The rainy days and the icy snow weren't too bad. There were many sunny and bright days, also, when the temperature would go up. But I had to keep my shirt on. I was too skinny, anyhow. Almost nineteen years old and just out of high-school. All in a days' work.

     I would put gasoline in the cars and trucks. An elderly pair may ask me to check their tire pressure. A pretty girl might let me check the oil in her car. I would check all that I could - under the hood. I could check the transmission fluid and the air filter. People asked me to check all sorts of things. All in a days' work.

     Gas station work was surely better than standing behind the hot, smoking, greasy fry-grill turning burgers with hot grease splashing on my work uniform. And then, browning sesame-seed buns all day long. I met some interesting ladies at the gas station, too. But, Karen was still my home-town sweetheart. We went to high-school together. We dated until I graduated. Then, we broke up. It never lasts very long. All in a days' work.

     OK, so I was an honor-role student throughout junior-high and high-school; six years of it. I played baseball. I ran track. Karen and I dated during her sophomore year; twelfth-grade for me. I graduated tenth in a class of a-hundred fifty-two students. But, I had little or no common sense. Bad acne, boils and scars. A community misfit. I was socially inept and ignorant about life! They say ignorance is bliss, but it is also a huge inhibitor when it comes to the simple things. I was blissfully ignorant. Now I was being freed and let loose in America during the 1970's. Wow! I graduated. All in a days' work.

     College was next. But, no-one in my close family had been exposed to higher-education before me. At least, no-one I was aware of. College would have been fun. College could have started my life. On to a good life; a great job. A lovely family; a wife, some children. What many dreams might be made of. That didn't happen for me. All in a days' work.

     I didn't know how to enroll in college. I tried, but I didn't understand. My high school helped me some and I managed. I was set to attend college in Columbus. The councilor at the college told me I could get a job somewhere; at a McDonald's restaurant frying burgers, at a K-Mart retail store stocking shelves, or working anywhere just for spending money. But I still didn't understand. I thought I would be working to pay my tuition, to buy my books, and pay other expenses. I could never do all that! College loans? What are those? I didn't even know about the loans. Let me try something different. So I did.

     Instead of going to college, I eventually decided to enlist in the military. Good working education. Great on-the-job training and experience. Adventures away from home. Let's go. All in a days' work.

     During my four enlisted years in the US Air Force, things were different, very different. Each morning, when the trumpets sounded, I had to get up, make my bed, shower, clean my room - including my bathroom, take care of any utility work, iron my green fatigues and polish my black boots, go outside into the brisk, damp, morning air, and stand at attention. Our First Sergeant inspected us to make sure we were within Air Force Regulation 35-10; the Air Force standards and appearance bible. AFR 35-10 governed how we should look and how we dress. My hair could not even touch my ears. It had to be cut close to my head and tapered in the back. I had to shave closely. My boots needed to sparkle. Our uniforms had to be pressed, cleaned, and neat with proper creases. The regulations were very specific and exact. In 1978, the haircut regulation was almost like blasphemy for a nineteen-year old male. All in a days' work.

     After passing inspection, the drill sergeant marched us to the cafeteria for a group breakfast. We had to stand at attention, spaced around the table along with the other airmen until all the empty seats were filled. Only then could we sit down, and in unison. The food was always good and tasty. Marching and regulations could be difficult. I know; it builds character. Yeah, right. All in a days' work.

     The same thing with Kent State University. I was glad to enroll for classes in January of 1982, right after my enlistment ended. The GI Bill paid for much of it. After my honorable discharge from the Air Force, I wanted to learn more about what I did while I was enlisted; about working with Avionics and Electronics. My engineering degree would show employers that I knew all I needed to know in order to work in the electronics industry as a civilian. That degree would be my certificate of knowledge, I guess. I wasn't in the Air Force anymore. But maybe I should have been. I could have reenlisted. Maybe I could have made a career of it, but I did not. All in a days' work.

     Each day, before I began classes at Kent State, I still ate breakfast. Give me something, anything to start my day with. That remained constant throughout my entire life. I had to eat breakfast. I have to eat breakfast! I did then and I still do every morning, even if it is only leftovers from last night. All in a days' work.

     One year later, on the evening of 28 January of 1983, a coworker picked me up at Jill's apartment and drove us to a local pub. We went to watch some of our friends play music in a rock-and-roll band. One friend from college played guitar; another from my part-time job played drums. George, the singer and lead guitarist worked at a local guitar shop. I met Ken, the drummer working at K-Mart. Mark played bass guitar and was an engineering classmate. 1983 is a long time ago. Too long ago for my memory, especially after everything that happened early the next morning. All in a days' work.

     After watching and listening to the band play and drinking a couple beers, I hoped to go back to Jill's apartment. That is where I spent much of my time. Time away from college and homework. Time away from my part-time job. Time away from Karate class. But I would still play my guitar for Jill. We didn't list her home as my address, but I spent more than enough time with her for it to qualify. It truly was my home-away-from-home. All in a days' work.

      What a lovely  girl and sweet person Jill is. Shiny, straight, black  hair. Not very tall, but spunky and take-charge. Lovely, lithe, a youthful figure. Stunning, perfectly-shaped, slightly turned-up nose with exciting, auburn, hardly noticeable freckles. Delightful Mediterranean skin-tone. But her gorgeous green eyes got me right away. In 1982, we were both at that time in our lives when we are ultimately attractive to others. We knew it and we loved it.

     We had a lot of fun together; both of us worked at the same place. Jill worked full-time. I was part time.

     We took trips. Jill's grandmother lived across the state and we visited her. I had friends out of state, but we never did get to visit them. There were amusement parks. There were nice restaurants. There were large cities. And there was the deep-blue, wavy, motor-boat filled, Atwood Lake. We could stay in a big city when we had time. Both of us were young and we loved to travel when we could. All in a days' work.    

     During my academic year at Kent State, I am busy with a full load of engineering lessons. Besides, I play guitar with some friends. We want to start a band. In the Air Force, I studied Karate and I continued that when I got out. During the school year, I played baseball at the college. I even wanted to play basketball that winter, but I'm not good enough. I always have too much happening, especially at college, at work, in Karate, playing guitar, and with Jill. All in a days' work.

     Jill went to high-school with Tim. They grew up near each other - Tim lived a couple of blocks away from her. Jill knew Tim long before he and I worked together, before I knew Tim, before I knew Jill.

     Tim picked me up in his Ford Pinto at Jill's apartment that one Saturday night. I had worked earlier. I don't remember if Tim had worked or not. We went to see our friends playing at a local bar. Jill didn't go with us. 

     Tim and I hardly see each other now. I don't dislike Tim and I don't think he dislikes me. We just never see each other anymore. We each have problems to deal with. All in a days' work.

     At the pub, we learned about a new type of home being built on a rural road locally, in the country near the park. We decided to visit and to view the new style house. We left the pub, zipping along in Tim's little red Pinto. On that trip, Tim missed a turn and we slammed into an embankment. After I smashed into the windshield with the left side of my forehead, the right side if my body was paralyzed. It is called contre-coup when your brain bounces around inside your skull. I was thrown out of the car just before the roof was crushed. I'm glad I didn't wear my seat-belts that time. A wooden fence post stopped me very quickly; immediately. I hit the back of my skull on the wooden fence post. I remember nothing about the car wreck and my brain injury from it, except that the results will last for the rest of my life. Everything changed instantly and forever. All in a days' work.

     I was in a coma and paralyzed. I believe my initial impact with the windshield was a big culprit and put me in the coma. But it may have been the the slam to the back of my skull from the hard, wooden fence post. I don't know. No one knows. No one can ever know now. What really happened? No one will ever know for sure. All in a days' work.

     The rest of my life has been in recovery. Not just at the hospital. Not just at the rehabilitation center. Just plain and constant recovery. Everyday and always! 

     I can never fully recover, but I've learned how to make others think I am fine. Sometimes, I even believe it myself. I don't always want to fool people. I certainly don't want to fool myself. But it always comes back to the same things. I realize I still have problems, lots of problems. All in a days' work.

Reviews

[Woody]

Sad story but told on a sincere tone devoid of any whining. the narrative runs smoothly. I enjoyed reading it. And I'd like to express my sympathy. Life's a b...h, as they say. it gives to some and takes from some.

[Jim V]

Thanks. I believe we each have our own similar sad story - about ourselves, or about someone near to us. And, we all have nicer, happier stories, too. But. it seems like others notice the sad stories and the evil tales of life more in the everyday news of life. That is what I see in the newspapers. Take care.