Steve Gets A Job

I got one of those phone calls the other afternoon that everyone dreads getting. This phone call was not bad news but for me, it was bad enough. Steve broke down and got a job. A real, honest to goodness, his name is on the schedule, legitimate paying job. The bad news for me is that he got a job with the company I work for, working the same shift, that I do. I am out because of foot surgery and as soon as Steve told me the news, I implored him not to tell anyone he knew me.

I did give Steve credit for getting the job on his own and I told him I was proud of him then I turned around and immediately started a pool as to how long he would last. I generously gave him a month. That is how much faith I had in him. Most everyone else in the pool gave him less than a week and there were a few that had it down to hours instead of days or weeks. That is what friends do for each other.

The Karma Of The Drunkenman Dinners

The other night at work I found myself stocking that delicacy of the single man also known to Steve as his dinner and to his friends as the "drunkenman dinners." Those dinners are the frozen microwave meals that Steve used to dress up with hot sauce and a 12 pack chaser that was "Hmmm, hmmmm bitch!" delicious. It was an ironic twist to a messed up summer for me. I could not help but laugh at this karmatic punch to the balls that had been delivered to me via a frozen turkey and dressing dinner with a small slab of chocolate cake.

I recognized most of the dinners because they had taken up space in my freezer at some point and time during mine and Steve's coexistence and they look as bad while you are stocking them as they do when they are staring at you from the freezer. Steve had so many of those things in my freezer that all that was left in there when he move was a single toaster strudel. I should have bought one of the drunkenman dinners in honor of Steve but I knew that I wasn't going to be eating it. No amount of hot sauce or beer could dress those up enough.