Chapter Twenty
Take It to the Limit
“This may be the funniest thing I have ever seen.”
Chuck was getting far too much enjoyment out of reviewing our scorecard. Earl and I were in his cubicle taking abuse while Elwood was out slaying some other high cost dragon. Yes, I said cubicle. Our rather palatial administrative building was one of our higher overhead expenses. On the plus side, it was comfortable and made me feel kind of like Donald Trump. On the negative side, over time, I did find my big office to be somewhat lonely. It made communication with my heart and soul (plant operations) more difficult. So, when Elwood proposed we lease the building out and move into cubicles in a trailer complex inside the gate, I voted “aye.” Enough of us felt the same way, including Chuck who could not afford to be seen as anti-cost conscious. Of all of us, I think he missed his personal palace the most. I’m sure it felt like déjà vu all over again to him. While his cubicle was light years nicer than the office I first met him in many moons ago, it did not have a wet bar in the corner or automatic shades like his former digs in the administration building. Elwood had managed to lease the building to some rather mysterious company. I had no idea what they did, nor did I care. This move was one of Elwood’s biggest contributors to cost savings, so I did have to begrudgingly give the little twerp a little bit of credit.
Not as much as Chuck, however. He had the biggest smile on his face that I’d seen in years.
“Charles (after all these years, I never once had slipped up and called him Chuck to his face), did we do a background check on this guy? Something just doesn’t add up.”
“Oh? Do I hear the squeal of some sour grapes? Well, I know one thing that really adds up. That would be your golf score!”
Nobody likes a smart ass. Especially when it’s your boss smarting off in your face while giggling like a schoolgirl.
“I’m just saying. This guy can’t be like he seems. I’m not sure I trust him.”
“Costs are down. The Shareholder is ecstatic. Our bonuses are looking robust and rosy. What’s not to love and trust? Now get out of here before I make you two take him bowling! Ha!”
Earl and I slinked out with our tails between our legs.
“Man, I agree Mick. Something is rotten in the State of Delaware.”
“Denmark.”
“Yeah, there too. So how can we find out more about this guy when he won’t tell us a thing?”
The idea must have struck us both precisely at the same time. We looked at each other and simultaneously shouted, “Doris’s Dingleberry Diner!”
If you were feeling that you were the litter and life was the cat, Doris’s was the place to go. It wasn’t actually called Doris’s Dingleberry Diner (I’m sure that is a shock to you). Let the Dingleberry fall and you’ve got it. It was a cheaply priced, friendly, well run bar and grille that didn’t skimp on its drinks. They did spice up their free delicious nuts so much that you could go nuts drowning them with potent firewater. It was actually run by a ‘lady’ named Doris who was a sixty something live wire. She really did look a little like Doris Day in her Rock Hudson days (better than the other way around) and swore like a red-assed sailor. I have had more fun and the worst morning after hangovers courtesy of Doris’s than any other place on earth.
Earl and I knew that Elwood would be a cheap date. We figured one umbrella adorned daiquiri and he would be singing like Alvin and the Chipmunks.
“Elwood, Earl and I would like to take you out tonight to meet some locals and have a bite to eat. Our treat. How about it?”
“I need to stay home and work on some cost projections.”
“Well, we wanted to talk to you about that tonight, too. I think there may be some opportunities you might be missing.” That was a tiny white lie but was the only bait I could dangle to lure in this cold fish.
It might have been a random light reflection off his thick lenses from the trailer’s dim fluorescents, but I swore I saw a sparkle in his otherwise corpse-like eyes. “Really? Where should I meet you and at what time?”
Earl and I got there a half hour early. “Hey you limp-dick peckerwoods. How’s it hanging?”
“Doris, you look sunny as ever.”
“Lick me.”
“Oh, the temptation. We need a favor tonight.”
“Now you’re both going to have to ball me, too.” It remains to this day somewhat disconcerting to hear those type of things coming out of a mouth you’d expect to be cheerily intoning thoughts about “What will be, will be.”
“We have a good friend arriving in about half an hour to join us. Could you make sure that every drink he orders has at least a double shot? We’re playing a trick on him. Of course, we will pay for the doubles.”
“No problem. And you bet your sweet lily white virgin asses you’ll pay for them.”
I don’t think I’d ever try to eat her daisies.
“Ok, what have I missed?” We were onto our second round. Earl was drinking Tanqueray and tonic or TITs as he called them. Never try to decipher Earl. I was sticking with scotch and soda. We had convinced Elwood to go with margaritas hoping that their sweetness would mask their explosiveness. When the waitress brought the first one, I knew Doris was true to her word. If anyone had been smoking within ten feet of us, I think the fumes would have sent the whole place up. Elwood seemed to like it and downed it in a hurry. This was sped somewhat by our encouragement for him to try handfuls of the free nuts.
“Ok, I’m ready for another one. So what have I missed?”
“C,mon, Elwood, before we talk shop, let’s loosen up and finish these drinks and get some more.”
By the time we got to round three, Elwood was still trying to get us to tell him about our non-existent ideas. “So, what else can we do to cut costs?” I will give Elwood credit, he was staying focused. Earl and I, not so much.
“Yeah, we are going to get to that (not). But first, tell us a bit about yourself.”
“I think I already did when we first met.”
“All you told me was that you got your MBA in Chicago. So, how was it up there?”
“Cold”
“So, who kept you warm at night?”
“The superintendent in the building. He kept the furnace in tip top shape.”
I think my SAT test was easier than talking to this guy. “No, I meant… Oh look, here are more drinks. Have some more nuts.”
While keeping count was getting more difficult, I believe Elwood was outpacing us a bit. After what I think was his fifth, I knew we had him right where we wanted him.
“So Melwood, what hobby horses do you ride?”
I was pretty sure I thought that was a strange question, even for Earl. I tried to give him a funny look but he seemed out of focus.
“I really don’t know what you are asking. I do have work to do, so if you could tell me what else we could do…”
“Let’s take a few more sips first. Ok, we could be like, buddies and pals you know. You probably are a pretty coooool dude. What about your..?” While my mind knew where it wanted to go, my lips wouldn't follow. Perhaps because they were numb.
“Look guys, thanks for the drinks but I really have to go.”
The next sound I was aware of was little Miss Doris softly cooing in my ear. “If I had wanted turds on my table, I would have located the shitter in the dining room. You two have been sprawled out here like a couple of wet farts for two hours now. I’m closing up. Get the fuck out.”
With those sweet words ringing in my spinning head, I dragged Earl out onto the street. Elwood was nowhere to be seen. We were lucid enough to know not to drive. Luckily, Earl lived only a block away. It took us a mere hour to stagger to his house in between barf breaks.
I woke up to wet licks from Bread the Second. The original Bread had a few litters of puppies in her long wonderful life. She went to the great doggie biscuit bakery in the sky a
few years ago. Bread Two (it was easier to just call him Bread) not only looked just like his mother but had all the same quirks and talents. He loved the duct ball, wandered off frequently, and, after a bit of training, responded to the same commands. Amazing. Anyway, I got to work about noon the next day feeling like the Fifth Fleet was conducting maneuvers in my veins. I think I left half my aching head at Earl’s. Speaking of Earl, he was nowhere to be seen.
“Thank you for dinner. I never did get to hear your ideas. Is now a good time?”
While that was probably the most personal, least formal and nicest thing Elwood ever said to me, it somehow really pissed me off. He stood there as if he had gone to church last night actually expecting me to have a normal conversation. And since when are nuts and margaritas considered dinner? I started to slam my door in his face until the realization struck that cubicles don’t have doors. Instead, I sneered and loudly said something like, “Morta fickle bumswhit”. He left and I crashed with the thought that perhaps he was not of the human race bouncing around my ever thickening cranium.
After that, we pretty much left Elwood alone and he reciprocated in kind. The plant was running well. Costs were down and profits up. All seemed peachy at Woodland and right with the world.