Thank You for Your Patronage

A man and his child.

    It was six thirty-seven in the morning when he finally heard the alarm clock. Their bed felt too comfortable and his wife grabbed his hand as soon as he motioned towards the edge of the bed. “No seas asi, I’ve got to go.” He went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. He took showers st night time to save time in the morning. The sun was also late that morning. Day light savings was near by. While in the bathroom, his wife prepared his coffee and gave him his pills. He went outside, left his jacket inside. Around this time of the year, it still got cold in the mornings. He walked through the cold drive way and searched for the key to unluck the car door. It took several turns at the ignition before his  seventy-nine El Camino stayed on. He walked back to say goodbye while the engine sat in idle. She made him two sandwiches for breakfast; she picked up the dishes and washed them while he worked outside loading the machines in the back of the truck. She walked outside to see him off. “The weedider needs a new cord, if you get a chance, pick some up for me?” He secured the two machines, the blower, the rakes, and the gas containers. Without the weedider, the work would be much harder.
He drove to the typical spot. It wasn’t hard to find people to help him out. He charged twenty-five dollars for the first two houses, and charged fifty-five dollars to Mr. Mason, because his house had the biggest yard and was the longest drive. During summer time, when you have to mow the lawn every weekend, he’d hire two people, usually him and another person was enough. His wife used to go with him, they saved money this way, but ever since they got enough money to bring their kids from Honduras, she stayed at home taking care of them. They were good kids. Always helped out, and didn’t ask for much. They’d only come six months ago and already spoke more English than he did. Once he got to there, his window was swamped with workers. He usually worked with the same people, but sometimes they wouldn’t return to the spot. That usually meant they were in jail, got some kind of construction job, or ultimately, got deported. The Venezuelan guy who worked with him last week got in the car, he greeted him. More people asked him if he wanted one more person. He didn't. Another person meant twenty dollars more he'd have to pay. Few of them yelled out obscenities while the rest of them ran to the next truck that pulled up. In the rear view mirror he saw the driver hold out both his hands making the numbers three and five with both hands. The driver was looking for eight workers.
As they drove to the first house, he told the worker that this would be his last time picking him up for work. Starting the next week, he and his wife had agreed for their oldest son to work with him. This would save them money, mostly because his son, now fifteen, was eager to help out any way he could. The worker didn't take to the news, this, and the valet parking job he had thursdays through sundays, was his only source of income. It was the only secure job he had found in months. He apologized because he had never really fired anyone before, but his hands were tied. Taking his son would save him money and time in the long run. They got to the first house, the owners either were not there or had not woken up yet. They got the machines down, the worker mowed the front yard while he took care of the back yard. At  the second house and the owner was outside waiting. The worker got out and got one of the machines and started in the front yard. He waved at the man as he passed by walking towards the truck. “I told you that I prefer that you come Friday afternoons…my wife has dinner parties in the evening and we don’t like our friends to see our yard grown out. It makes us look bad.” The owner walked by his side as he pushed the machine towards the back yard. Once there, he started pulling the weeds with his hands while listening to the man and throwing them in the middle of the grass so they could be chopped up while he was mowing the lawn. This would be much easier if the had the weedider. The owner walked away. It usually took thirty to forty minutes depending on how much the grass had grown or if there was something else the man wanted done. Thirty-three minutes later the owner walked outside again and told him that next week he’d expect him Friday afternoon. The man spoke in a serious tone; not condescending, but the way a dissapointed father talks to his child when he brings home a bad report card.  He put his thoughts together before responding, the sun had already caught up with the rest of the day and it was getting mildly hot. In a Houston day, mildly hot is enough to make your head weigh a ton. “Mr. Hoeg, I understand your reason why you want me to come Fridays, but like I told you before, I just graduated and they got me a good job at the plant. I can't make it in the afternoons with all the overtime I'm working."  It was true. His wife had mentioned it to him, how he's always getting home late. "Sure we need the money," she'd say, "but we'd rather have you here with us." He also wanted to be there with them. He'd leave the house at five am and get home at eight pm. Sure the kids were still awake at that time, but most times he'd get home so exausted, he'd go to sleep right after dinner. The oldest child volunteered to go with him on the weekends to save the twenty dollars he usually paid the worker. Doing this, they'd save close to a hundred dollars a month. "Well, my wife prefers you come on Fridays." The owner said and walked away. The ride to the last house was somewhat awkward. The worker told him he'd work for fifteen dollars instead of the regular twenty. "You've been a great help to me, but we just can't cut it anymore. We have the kids here now and the expenses are growing. It's nothing personal." He remembered to add the last part. He'd always seen them do that in movies whenever someone got fired. He felt it added a more "professional" touch. The worker grunted to himself and stayed quiet the end of the ride to the third house. They divided the front yard because it was too big for one person to finish in a timely manner. The backyard almost never needed any work because of the big pool. All the work was done by the lady of the house. He checked the gate door, where the lady would leave anything she'd want planted, walked around with the rake and a garbage bag to pick up the leaves and weeds she'd pulled and trown to the sides. Afterwards, he began his half of the front yard, turned on the blower to clean up the drive way. They got the machines back on the El Camino. He dropped off the worker, thanked him again, and gave him an extra thirty dollars. Sort of a severance package. He felt good he could give the worker the extra cash, after all, he really did apreciate all the help he'd given him the last couple of months.
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