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Mental meanderings of an old man

A much needed guide for old farts (who still have it) about doing the wild thing past, present and future. With helpfull insight into the hurt and confusion that wasting 23 years on being married can bring.

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Metal man.

I was in a rush this morning to get in to work not because I like work, far from it but I was expecting an important phone call. Five minutes from home and I realised that I desperately needed the bathroom. Should I turn back or make a run for it, I made a run for it, and was reminded yet again that when in that situation the nearer you get to the point of relief, the more desperate you become. Of course the traffic was building up and moving as slowly as it possibly could, and I swear that people were looking at me through their car windows, smirking and deliberately getting in my way.

As I turned into the car park I saw that a white van driver had stolen my parking space. I made a mental note to let his tyres down at the earliest opportunity, but eventually found a spot some seventy miles from the main doors and run key in hand to let myself in. By now sweat had broken out on my forehead and my blood had run cold, it’s the same sort of feeling a prisoner in the dock gets when the judge dons his black cap and pronounces sentence. Which is why I completely ignored a face I haven’t seen for some time.

It belonged to a chap who used to work here; his name is also Dave. He came to us strait out of the army which is why whenever he hosted an event, he would have the customers running around or doubling up, marching to and from the spectator gallery and generally behaving like regulars on exercise. He is a likeable lad despite his sergeant major ways and a little odd too which I think is a plus.

Its funny that despite him serving in two campaigns, one of which was quite bloody, he chose to loose the plot whilst working for us, a measure perhaps of the stress levels that exist here at desolation row.
It started after being hauled in front of the MD for making a group of kids enjoying a birthday party hit the deck and give him twenty. Personally I would have done the same, they were running amok and no amount of shouting made them take any notice. The parents thought it great fun to see our hero being run ragged and covered in hamburger and chips, however they didn’t see the funny side of their little tykes having to press twenty with a big hob nail boot on the back of their neck.

He spent his dinner hour working on Bob, a life size metal man he was building out of old car parts. It was a unique piece or work and very cleverly done, the arms and legs articulated the head moved from side to side and it could be placed in any position and locked. It looked a lot like the terminator robot although not as shiny and it weighed a ton. But Bob went everywhere with Dave they were inseparable.
As I flew out of my car this morning blinkered to everything other than performing a basic function, I completely ignored Dave, but did manage to see him driving out as he left. It seems he is coming back to work here after his long rest and recuperation, perfectly well and again able to take up his duties as before.

As he drove out of the car park I noticed someone sat in the passenger seat, I talked with Christine the secretary who had met with Dave about his return and enquired as to why his wife hadn’t come in for a chat and a cup of tea. She informed me that he had been in a hurry and that the passenger was someone called Bob.

Labels: metal man, Terminator, traffic

posted by Dave G at 12:20 pm 7 comments

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