Dead Already (The Trainer)

When I started work at this call center
I had to complete a training course
that lasted two weeks.
Our trainer was a guy named Huck Finn.
No joke.
He was very short, bald, and really funny looking.
He looked like if the Silver Surfer
were pink instead of silver.
He introduced himself to the class
told us a bit about who he was.
First off
he asked if anyone had seen 'Fast Times at Ridgemont High'.
"You know Spicoli in that movie? That was me in high school."
He went on to tell us he had been in
Special Ops in the Air Force.
Went on to teach elementary school
and now here he was teaching telemarketers how to
sell HBO & Cinemax upgrades to satellite TV customers.
Then he beamed with joy
mentioning his six month old son
and his life goal was to have a shack on the beach
drinking Corona's all day and teaching his son to surf.
But when he mentioned his baby's mama
his girlfriend (not fiance or wife, just his girlfriend)
he had that look about him.
That broken and defeated look
no mistaking it
unhappy and trapped.
Once upon a time
I had that look too.
He quickly changed the subject
going on about
iPhone, iPad, and the man cave he had made for himself
in the garage.
All the little distractions, from the man made prison
he kept himself locked up in.
A well paying job, a big house, a sports car, the latest gadgets,
all the signs of success, yet he was missing something.
The fire, the spark, was vacant from his eyes.
Then a few days later
he just came out with it all.
Someone in class asked if he had any plans
to marry his baby's mama.
"Well....to be honest....I was gonna break up with her, but then she got
pregnant and I've kinda been stuck with her ever since."
I couldn't believe he actually said it.
"Stuck with her..." the words echoed in my brain.
I just sat there, shaking my head in disbelief.
He was one of millions
living a life he didn't want
out of obligation & circumstance.
He continued his confession to the class, sitting on a desk
his legs crossed like a female.
"...and she says all the time how miserable she is with me. I just don't get it.
I'm not a drunk or a druggy. I don't yell or hit her..."
'Maybe you should', I thought.
"I don't know....nothing makes her happy. So...that's a big reason why I spend
a lot of my time in the man-cave I built...to avoid her. But...okay. Let's review..."
then that fake smile came back to his face
and he resumed teaching the class
about the benefits and features of premium movie channels.
A week later
we returned from a three-day weekend
and Mr. Huck Finn looked ten times more miserable
than before.
Someone in the class
asked what was wrong with him and if he was okay.
He said that basically
over the three-day weekend
he had found out that his girlfriend
was making secret plans
arrangements
to cheat on him with another man.
But they had 'talked things out'
and now everything was just peachy-keen.
I was amazed.
No balls
no guts
no brains
none.
She ran the show
and he paid the tab.
It was all up to him
he held all the power
and he didn't even know it.
I still see him sometimes
training the next class of drones
he walks around with that forced smile
the one he's practiced to perfection.
I sit and I watch him
on the call center floor
he smiles, showing someone something
pointing to the computer screen
then he walks to the back of the room
leaning against the wall
he doesn't know I'm watching him
but I see it happen.
His fake smile fades
and the grim look of that broken man
appears.
He's one of millions.
The latest gadgets, iPhone, iPad, big screen 3D TV, surround sound, the sports car,
all the signs of success
with no direction, but down.
To a place worse than hell.
He's already fucking dead.
He just doesn't know it yet.

No, It's Not Cool

By the time second grade rolled around
the school came up with some
new thing a 'multi-graded' classroom.
First, second, and third grade all in one room.
My teacher was Mrs. Wong
a middle-aged, Latina, married to a Chinese man
with four or five kids.
The class was all seated on the floor
while she told us a story
about how bad Communism had been
for her husband's family, in China.
"It got so bad, that my husband's brother tried to swim from China to Japan. On his way, he was attacked by sharks. They ate both of his legs right off, just tore them to ribbons. He would've died there, if a fishing boat hadn't picked him up."
"Cool!" I said, excitedly. I had been reading about sharks and shark attacks.
Mrs. Wong stopped and looked at me
with that face that she got.
The entire class turned and stared at me.
"No, Daniel...it's not cool. He barely survived and he has nightmares about it all the time."
I pictured a legless Chinese man, tossing and turning in his bed, screaming out into the night.
"...that was inappropriate. Now is there anything that you'd like to say?"
"I'm sorry, Mrs.Wong." I said, my head down.
I could feel the hard stares from my classmates.
"Thank you. Now, have any of you...."
Mrs. Wong was a good teacher
and a real nice lady
I was the insensitive asshole
that was
really, really, really, into sharks.

Lost Loft

Mrs. Wong was a real progressive lady.
but now that I think about it
she was a total hippie.
She once built a huge wooden loft
in the corner of the classroom.
I don't know why but
I fucking loved that loft.
The whole class helped set it up
the wood was soft and naturally white.
When it was finally done
we had a read-a-thon
where you sat around the room
with blankets & pillows
snack foods and juice
under little forts
reading books.
Being one of the lucky few that got to sit up in it
eating a Lunchable
in the high upper level
of the loft.
Letting the book in my little hands
take me somewhere else entirely
not feeling like I was in boring ass school.
I love Mrs. Wong for giving us that.
She didn't have to.
She was one of the good ones, the rare ones.
It wasn't just a job for her
she cared about each and everyone of us
and our futures.
She wanted to go above and beyond
the standards set by the public school system.
And the man took it all away from us.
Some higher up saw it
and said it violated fire code.
They took it apart like scavengers in the night
vultures cleaning the bones by moonlight.
The next day we entered the classroom
to find the corner where the loft had been
empty and barren.
Mrs Wong explained to us
that it was all her fault
that she should've check the fire codes
or asked someone.
That day we read books at our desks
and on the rough carpet that had bits of sand all in it.
Mrs Wong was crushed
and so were us kids.
The first of many lost battles,
ah.

The Artist & The Booger Sandwich

Standing in front of a local art galley
there was a large sign
'Booger Donation Line'
it read in green and brown letters.
It was some sort of performance art piece
the guy ahead of me said.
I had just gone out for a pack of smokes
when I saw a long line of people
and that booger sign.
So lit up a smoke and got in line
anything to avoid my goblin of a wife
who was waiting at home
chain smoking and cursing my name.
I was a man with time to kill
so why not? I had a booger to donate.
"This guy is such an amazing artist. I once saw him drink a milkshake
made with bloody tampons and menstrual blood clots."
A girl in the line said, to her friend who looked just like her.
"But have you heard him read his poetry?"
"Yeah, isn't it beautiful?"
A young man with a patchy beard was handing out pamphlets
to all of us in line
it was the artist's poems.
I read one line,
"The sun and the moon fought for the perquisites of the day..."
and let it fall to the ground.
The line moved forward
and I was finally inside.
We were all moving towards a table
that had two pieces of white bread on a paper plate
next to it were green chips and a glass of dirty water.
The artist was seated at the table
wearing a bib with a big lobster on it.
I saw each person stop at the table
and dig their nose for a good one.
"Ohmygawd. We're almost there! We're almost there!"
"He's so fuckin hawt."
Standing at the table
I dug deep
the two pieces of bread were covered
in all different types of boogers
wet slimy ones, dried out crusted ones, long stringy ones,
I think I saw one with a nose hair stuck in it
green, brown, white, and even a few bloody ones.
It had a thick layer of boogers.
I pick one and wiped it on the bread
trying not to touch the others.
The artist stared straight ahead, looking right through me.
"Can I put another one in there?" I asked.
A woman standing at his side
stepped forward, speaking for him,
"One donation per person. Please step aside, sir."
"Yeah, come on! It's our turn." The girls behind me whined.
I could hear them gushing as I walked to the back of the room,
'....you know, we both just love you..."
A few minutes later
the woman at the artist's side announced
that the deposits were closed and that the performance
would now begin.
He held the two pieces of
dripping booger bread
high above his head
he them together and spoke into
a headset microphone.
"Life..." He began,
"is a tremendous booger sandwich and we must all take a bite."
with that he took a corner of the sandwich into his mouth
and bit down hard.
And then another
and another.
I watched him
struggling to swallow the salty shit down
he was having trouble
trying his best to stay in his artistic persona
without puking.
The two girls from the line
super fans
went up to him
"Can we have a bite?" They asked,
smiling up at him, like he were Zeus up on Olympus.
Without a word
he broke off two pieces
of the booger sandwich
and placed it in their mouths.
"It's like the holy communion. He's commenting on the absurdity of Catholicism."
an art fag whispered in the darkness behind me.
The artist was having trouble swallowing.
The super fans didn't even get that far
they both gagged and puked on the floor
at the artist's feet.
Then he finally lost it
puked all over the girl's feet
which were both in black flip-flops
chunks of green and white
in-between their toes.
The artist tried to speak into the headset mic
but it was covered in puke and fried.
He ripped the headset off
threw it sailing through the air
and into the audience, shouting
at the top of his lungs
and with a smile on his face,
"BUT LIFE ISN'T ALWAYS EASY TO SWALLOW, NOW IS IT?!"
The room roared with applause and cheers.
They rushed the stage, shaking his hands, patting him on the back
someone put roses in his arms.
As I stepped out onto the hot streets of Mesa
I lit another cigarette
thinking of what a fool the artist and his followers were.
Then I remembered my angry wife at home
and
I remembered
that I was the biggest fool of them all.

Smile & Dial

Lunch time at the call center
it's a fuckin' madhouse.
They let all sixty employees go at once
I don't know why
but they do.
Dozens stand in line
at the three microwaves
waiting their turn to zap their shitty frozen foods
Salisbury steaks
mac'n'cheese
hot pockets
they laugh.
"Goddamn son, it's like I'm waitin' in line at the DMV or some shit."
Then they race
to wolf down their food
so they can fit in a cigarette
before their thirty minutes are up.
A table of lonely fat girls
share a large pizza
and eyeball every man that walks by.
The Blacks eat leftover Church's chicken
and tuna with crackers.
The Mexicans have their leftover carne asada
from the cook out of last weekend.
You can hear about their lives
in between each bite
they talk.
About the public health insurance
they no longer qualify for
and the food stamps
that are about to be cut off.
Every man there has his story.
"My baby's mama don't even let me see my kids."
They talk about how she hates them
for ruining her life, her tits, and her body altogether.
The hate runs deep on both sides.
Outside the break room is where they all smoke.
It's patio area
of caged in fences
and metal bars run along the ceiling.
One of the girls reaches up
grabs one of the bars
and does some fancy shit.
Stripper acrobatics
I'd seen the move before
and it made me happy
to know that the lady got out
and found a new line of work.
But you know she took a pay cut.
Selling your body pays a lot better
than selling your voice.
Then
a black & white squad car pulls up out front.
It's mere presence
stirs everyone up
on the smoker's patio.
They all think it's for them
cause they all have their reasons.
"Shit, I got overdue fines!"
"Fuck, I knew that bitch was gonna turn my ass in for that child support."
"I got warrants. I'll be in the bathroom Elvis."
The two officers stepped out
and went inside.
I'd never seen two female cops
that were as butch as they were.
Spiky hair
gel melting and running down
like dripping liquid sideburns.
"Oh damn! Them butch cops are da worst, my nigga. Yeah, they don't fuck around.
Slam you ass to the pavement in a heartbeat, you better believe that shit!"
Three of my buddies emerged from a smoke-filled car.
Eyes redder than the Devil's dick
stinking of malt liquor and Mexican brick-weed.
"What's going down, Elvis?"
They asked paranoid
not taking their eyes off
the black & white parked out front.
"Don't know. Two of em' just went inside. They're looking for somebody..."
"Goddamn."
My mind drifted to my own
overdue traffic fines
back pay child support.
The Black Cloud.
The officers walked back out
and drove away.
Empty handed.
Then there was
laughter
smiles
sighs of relief.
Everyone has been given a reprieve.
One more day
on the phones and under the radar.
For now.
Tomorrow could be different.
Then everyone puts their cigarettes out
and heads back in.
They smile & dial.
Just like the sign above their desk
tells them to.