Odd Jobs (Some Odder Than Others) Ch. 01

It's paycheck Friday. An envelope in my hand and a smile spread over my face, I step out of my dusty pickup and walk across the lot to the streak free glass doors of the bank building. Approaching the podium to fill out my deposit, I slit the envelope open with an ink pen from my shirt pocket and unfold my reward for the last two weeks of toil and tolerance, both physical and mental. Eyes moving over the script to search for that magic sum that's going to solve all of the world's problems for the next few weeks and then scribe it out on the deposit slip and......what?! What the Hell?! There must be some kind of error! There's no way! Small glows of cold sweat build on my brow while I'm frantically studying the itemized list of hours worked, deductions, bonuses and such, hoping to find where the oversight must have been. Nope, that adds up. Our local season ending, hours have been trimmed down across the floor at work and the difference it amounts to about brings me to my knees.

I face facts, suck it up, put on my best game face again and complete my deposit slip sans the usual odd amount of cash I usually take away to make the total a nice round number and play with the change. It all needs to go straight to the account.

Taking my place between the velvet ropes, I sigh. The canned, almost sterile except for the hint of parchment scents of the bank fill my nose and invade my lungs. I blow it back out with rebellious resistance as a child would with his first peer pressure cigarette. Let's just get this over with.

A young woman who is as pressed and polished as a news anchor but with the face of a pro league cheerleader waves me to her window and smiles while telling me, "Sir, I can take you down here."

Almost stumbling over my own feet, I shuffle over to her spot at the counter, raise my clutch of papers and lay them in the tray as a boy would a bad report card on the dinner table. As she inputs the info and pulls up my account, she asks, "So, fun plans for the weekend?"

"Oh, you know...just catching up on some things around the house." Inside my head, I'm just pleading that she doesn't look at my balance and give me that crushing look of, "Oh...uh...you should really move back in with your parents."

Handing me my receipt, she continues to smile a million dollar smile and wishes me all the best. I wonder if she is just that genuinely non-judgmental and sweet or if she is just rolling through the motions to get through her Friday as quickly as I was to get through mine and on to the weekend. Either way, I'm off to the rest of the weekend that waits for me. I almost hear a doctor say, "See! That old shot wasn't so bad, kiddo!" Maybe not, but it still burns my ass.

I fire up the pickup, slap it into gear and amble out of the parking lot and on to the roads that lead homeward. Needing some distraction to drown out the voices in my head, I turn on the radio and kick it up until it gets a little distorted, then roll the knob back down until the sounds come out clear. A few miles down the road and one of my favorite tunes from years gone by comes on.

Damn, I haven't heard this one in awhile! I about wore out the old cassette of this song back in the day! Coming into the chorus, I have the windows down and am feeling loosened up enough to where I feel the urge coming on to shout song out along with the band. I feel it building in my gut and making its way to my throat. Rock and roll time! And....the radio cuts out due to some reoccurring wiring issue I've been meaning to get fixed. The only sound in the air is my own out of tune voice, hollering out the about half of the chorus before I realize that the band stopped. A lady and her kids in the Lexus beside me have a good laugh at it all as the light turns green and they gain half a block on me while I'm trying to find first gear through all the mess and just get going.

With the damn radio off the rest of the way through my commute, I have lots of time to think. This economy is killing me! I love the security and benefits of the job I have. The company is stable and as long as I do my job well, I'm there as long I want to be. Now is not the time to be looking for another day job. I just need some form of side work. Some extra income to help out would smooth things out so much. With all of the time I have free due to not being able to afford going out, I could be doing something to make a few bucks. What that may be remains the question.

I stop at the local grocery close to home to get a few essential staples that I'll need to get me through the weekend, just the basics. Pulling the change from my pocket that was the end of last payday's money, I go to the newspaper box so I can get the weekend coupons torn out for the things I need before I go in to shop. Lighting a smoke, I sit in the sun on the cement bench and collect a handful of coupons for my usual fare, then slip them into my shirt pocket. I turn to the funnies and enjoy the rest of my cigarette while seeing what's going on in the worlds of those simple little characters that have entertained me since childhood. That and the weather is about all I read, so I leave the rest of the paper on the bench for the next person as I leave to go inside.

After gathering the basics in my little red basket, waiting my turn in line, paying with coupons and my card and bagging up my bounty, I'm homeward bound. I decide for a trip to the restroom before I cover the last miles to the house. Setting my bag down on the table by the doorway before I go in, I gaze up to the cork board with all of the lost cat, car for sale, church potluck, charity car wash and dog grooming flyers to see a corner of paper that was torn off and a note written on it in pencil.

Helper Wanted: Able bodied individual needed for odd jobs around the homestead. Must speak English, have own transportation (pickup preferred), willingness to work and pay attention to details. I have tools and supplies needed. Call Jo at 555-486-0842.

That's me! I have to call this number! I hope nobody else grabbed this up yet. My plans are free and I have some work left in me and room in my wallet for a few bucks. I can't chance somebody else calling and stealing the opportunity away, so instead of writing down the number, I slip the note into my pocket like it were contraband.

I step into the men's room for a minute and then grab up my groceries, pat my pocket to make sure the note is still there and head out to the truck. The bag is set on the passenger seat and I light up another smoke while I sit on the tailgate and dial the number from the torn little scrap of paper.

Ringing for a minute, no answering machine, I start to feel that I have missed my window of opportunity. "Hello? This is Jo. Sorry, it takes me a bit to get to the phone." A lady answers. Her voice is a little smoky with a slight drawl to it. "I hope to God that you are calling about the ad."

"Yes!!" Damn, I hope I didn't sound freakishly overly excited. "I saw your note at the store and thought I'd call and see if you found anyone yet."

"Hell, you're the first since I pinned that damn thing up two days ago. Aint there anyone out there ready to work anymore? So, you think you might be interested?"

"Absolutely. I have the weekend free and lots of go left in me after the week. I can be there anytime. What kind of help are you looking for?"

"Well, honey...there's quite a list at this point. Do you want to come over and have a look around? There's work everywhere I can see."

"I just need to know where to meet you." I offer this because so many people have found the need to be cautious in this day and age about who just shows up to their door.

"I aint got any work for you outside of my property so you may as well just roll up here. Do you have a regular job? Reason I'm asking is that I can't afford somebody full time. If you're needing a sole source of income, I can't do it for you. I can pay you a day rate a few days a week but might be handy with referrals if you do good work."

"If you'll have me, I just need your address. I'll just drop my groceries off at the house on the way and be right up."

She gives me directions instead of an address, telling me that she's out a ways and it'd be easier to just go by what she was telling me. "My road won't come up on any of those computer map sites anyway, honey."

I scratch down the way there on the back of her note and slide it back into my shirt. We agree to meet there in front of her place and go over what she'll be needing of me when I get there.

I head down the road, run into the house, put all of the groceries still in the bag into the fridge and get back out the door and on the road.

My hand on the steering wheel holds the directions and I read along as I go over the roads and past the landmarks she pointed out. Left past the dump truck for sale, the road turns to dust and rocks. That would explain part of the reason that "pickup preferred" was included on the note. A short stretch down the back road and I throw it into low gear, climb the hill, drive past the old windmill with the rusted blue water truck parked under it, past two more entry ways and look to the right to notice the big American flag and the red pickup with the white horse trailer attached to it. That's Jo's place.

I pull onto the property, shut off the engine and pull the emergency brake. Stepping out into the dust, I hear dogs barking and hear that drawl call from over a high backed wooden chair that tells them, "Hush. He's okay."

"Come on over, honey. I brought out some lemonade. There's beer in the barn fridge if you'd rather." Jo sits in a handmade high backed wooden chair and has a blanket draped over her legs. There's another old metal hotel folding chair and a little table with a big jug of lemonade and ice next to a glass mason jar with a handle, made for drinking from, waiting there by the ashtray.

I walk over to the place by the porch. "I don't drink, so I'll take you up on the lemonade. I'm Luke and it's nice to meet you, Jo. Wow! It's beautiful out here!" I smile and look over to her in the chair, extending my arm for a handshake.

Shaking my hand, she looks up to me over her glasses with a hesitant gaze and replies,"What the Hell kind of a man don't drink?"

"The kind of man that used to do a lot of it. I decided to retire it."

Her head rolls back and she just starts laughing. "Okay, I'll give you that. I'm sure you have your share of stories. Fill that glass up and I'll give you the run-down." She pulls a cigarette and brings it up to her lips. I step up and pull my lighter, turn on the flame and hold it to the end of the tobacco until it glows red. "Thank you, honey. Are you a gentleman or just an over-achiever?"

I reply with a slow smile, "Both, if I can manage to be." I light one up too and we sit silently for a second, enjoying a few puffs and some long swallows of what must be the best lemonade I have ever had pass my lips. Breaking the silence, I say, "So, is Jo short for Joanne?"

Turning to give me a serious look, "Jo was short for Josephine which is a great name for either a little girl or an old lady, of which I'm neither." Her eyes smile to me, "Call me Jo. I'll call you Luke. We'll get along just fine."

My lips wear a warm smile as I take another slow drink of lemonade. I can't help but be fascinated with her. She's got her fair share of moxy! Blonde hair that's cut shorter and tousled a little by the wind, highlighted by the desert sun shows just a touch of grey at the roots. I know not to look too long at the grey, as she doesn't seem to miss a beat and would be sure to call me on it. Tanned skin with a stray freckle here and there, button up Wrangler work shirt with the sleeves cut off, jeans and dusty boots that are adorned with marks from working, I can tell that she is no princess. She seems to be almost six feet standing with long limbs and beneath the softness that comes with age, the gal's got some guns on her! She's no stranger to doing her own chores. Amidst it all, she is in no way too mannish. Eyeliner and mascara, painted nails, lip gloss and each ear holding more than a few earrings, she's got a great balance of rough and tumble with all the "belle of the ball" that shows through. I love the mix of it all and how it flows out perfectly through her look and her abundant character.

"I have some things outdoors that I need firstly. The wind came over the other night and knocked down the smaller trees by the back of the house, busting a few boards on the fence around the garden. The weeds are needing harvested, as there seems to be a bumper crop of them and it's getting hard to tell whether I should just throw out the flowers and veggies and make it an official weed patch or not or get it back into shape. There's a loose board or two on the shed that I can't reach and the gutters could use some straightening up."

I'm following her so far and nothing's too lofty. Sounds like just the thing to break up the monotony of my day job. It may be just like a working vacation. The setting is just what I'd have if I could afford to get myself there.

She adds, "I do have some inside work that needs tended to as well. You see, I usually do it all on my own but I was thrown from a horse around a week ago and the doctor in town says that I have some nerve damage in my lower back. I'm not good on my feet these days. Hell, I'm not great sitting down! He's got me on enough pain meds to keep the Rolling Stones happy over a world tour and says that with some therapy and time, I should be able to be up and going again within some months. We'll just see how it goes, I'm too stubborn to stay down long."

Setting down an empty glass, she asks me if I'm too proud to wash floors, fold towels or do windows. I assure her that I'm not allergic to any of the above. She tells me that we've got a deal if I'm willing.

"I can only pay fifty bucks a day. I'll get your food when you're here. Seems you'll be saving me a lot of money on the beer you aint drinking, so let's make it sixty a day. Would that do it for you?"

I smile widely and shake her hand. "Deal!"

"Okay, honey. Light's going down for the night. How about we get an early start in the morning. Is six in the morning too early on your weekends?"

"I'll be up. I'll have some coffee and be here and ready to go at six."

She smiles a little catlike smile. "Coffee and cigarettes. Hell, it's good to know you kept at least a few vices. Maybe I can trust you after all. I'll have the coffee on. See you in the morning."

I get to my feet and shake her hand again. "See you in the morning, Jo."

I hit the road home and just can't stop smiling. Seems like somebody's been listening to my prayers. Life's about to get better.