2002-09-06 � Renting the Truck

�She don�t care. She don�t even care.� He hiked his foot up onto the counter, leaned on his knee and lit a Marlboro. He took a deep drag and blew it out the side of his mouth the way smokers do when they are facing you. The way they do to avoid blowing smoke at you. That sort of Popeye mouth that sort of aims the exhale off to the side. You know the way.

He took a moment to steady his nerves. My father and I stood at the counter patiently. We didn�t care either. He�d already put us at least an hour behind and we were trying to keep it less than two.

�Yes, about our truck reservation,� I gently nudged. �We have a reservation for a seventeen foot truck.�

He took a long puff on his cig. �See, I�m a single father, for God�s sake.� He arched his eyebrows and put his arms out in a gesture that sought understanding. �And my son, he has ADHD, and this morning he was just not cooperating.� Drag. Blow with Popeye mouth.

Meanwhile, the woman who had been in line in front of us, the woman to whom he had tried to give the dolly we�d reserved, the woman whose transaction had inexplicably taken 45 minutes, the woman who had been at the door at 8 a.m. because her reservation was for 8 a.m., the woman who waited an hour for Popeye Mouth to show, the woman who didn�t care, that woman, was outside waiting for her truck to be brought around. She was speaking in a voice she believed to be private, but which in fact could be heard clearly through the single pane window.

�I still don�t think it�s fair. He owes us an hour, honey. He owes us an hour. I don�t think the free furniture pads are enough. If he�d thrown in the dolly too, like we asked, it might have compensated us for that hour, for that lost hour, but even then�� She held her head in her hands. I think she may have been crying, but just a little.

�See!� Drag and Popeye blow with left hand, lower back scratch with right. �She don�t care.� He sighed heavily and deposited his cigarette on his lower lip freeing both hands for hot scratching action. The cigarette bounced and dangled like needle on a lie detector. �I tried to tell her I�m a single parent and my son has ADHD. She don�t care. �You owe me an hour!�� he mocked and shook his head in disbelief.

�I really, I just need my truck.�

He stretched and stubbed out his butt. �People, they don�t realize what it�s like. Some days he�s good. Others he�s not, and hell if I know which it will be when I get up. Hell if I know. I mean, I don�t plan on opening late or nothing.� He lit up another smoke. �She thinks she has problems, she should try being a single parent with a child with ADHD for a while. Then she�ll see what kind of problems there can be in this big old wide world. Then she�ll see.�

�I have people waiting at my house ready to load the truck we�re renting from you. They�re waiting.�

�It�s just, it�s hard, you know? You know? You know what I�m saying? It�s so hard.� Deep drag. Side blow. �Like take this morning. I told him to eat his cereal and he didn�t then he threw it on the floor, so I had to clean that up. Then I told him to get dressed, to put his jamas in the hamper, but he wouldn�t, so I had to hold him down and make him get dressed. �We�re going to Pop Pop�s� I said to him. That usually works because there�s a trampoline at Pop Pop�s, see. But nothing was getting through to him. And then I have to come in here and deal with folks that don�t care. They just don�t care.�

�Yes, well, if you would just rent us a truck, we�ll be out of your way.�

He looked up at my father and I. His eyes were a bit glazed over and I noticed food in his handlebar mustache. He scratched his head with his cigarette hand. �What can I do for you again?� he asked.

Posted at 5:06 p.m.

previously on Soonernext on Sooner

last five entries

  • making Sense of the State of the Union -- 2
  • Making Sense of the State of the Union -- Pt. 1
  • But I'm Willing to Learn
  • Rough Draft
  • Political Action