WOOD you give me a DECK hand, here?

CAPTION: "How much WOOD can a WOODchuck CHUCK?"

I've discovered over time that the connotations that come with the word LAZY really seldom apply. It is more appropriate to say, I believe, that someone is just not motivated. That person has other priorities.

I think we pass the negative tenor of that 'L' word on from generation to generation. And I really don't think it's necessary. All the elder generations want from the younger generations is some attention. Sometime the ELDER just has to work a little harder to get JUNIOR to take notice.

That seems to be the case as we catch up with our tale:

 

         ALL HANDS ON DECK

                                   Part four 

 

         Groomed for work, I stop by the garage expecting to see the DECK truck at least half unloaded. This is not what I see. What I see is this delivery person sitting in the cab of his truck. He is munching on a sandwich, washing it down with something from a thermos. He has the driver’s door open to let in the summer breeze, and he is gyrating to some raucous musical beat coming from his radio.

         This does it. This unleashes my madness.  I reach into the cab and shut off his inspirational static. I make sure he is in a position to see the swollen veins in my neck. I speak slowly and deliberately, making sure he does not miss a word.

         “Now get down out of that cab and get this truck unloaded.”

         He stares, and then recovers his unctuous profile.

         “Hey man, I just deliver. I don’t unload. Where have you been for the last twenty years?”

         I mumble something about not really caring that his daddy is an attorney, and yank him out of the truck. I grab both his shoulders and peer into his glazed corneas.

         “You and I are going to unload this truck together. We are going to unload it faster than anything you’ve done in your life.”

         I have to give the kid credit at this point. He clearly understands his personal health takes precedence over company policy. I’m sure we are breaking some sort of truck unloading time record. At one point he considers taking a breather? He gets one glimpse of my mood and just keeps moving. As the last bag of cement hits the garage floor? I say, “is that all of it?”

         He says, “God, I hope so!”

         He hands me the bill of lading suggesting we check everything together.

         “Sorry I’m late for work. I’m just going to have to take your word for it.”

         “Please, please, don’t take my word for it.”

         “Sorry, I’m out of time, here’s the check. I’ve got to run. Nice job by the way.”

         “Thanks.”

         He takes the check and hands me a receipt. I can sense his unease, but I’ve got to go.

         I arrive at work with a river of sweat flowing off my brow. My hair is twisted into little tight wet curls. I storm by the receptionist, and sidle into my desk chair. Here I will calm down and get my composure. My office mate looks at me and observes, “What happened to you?”

 

         I can’t even find the energy to offer up the predicted reply, “don’t ask.” Instead I just shake my head as he stares.”

 

     “Oh, I forgot! One of your stepsons called. He says it’s really important.”

         What now. I make the call.

         RING A DING DING!

         “Hey it’s not all here!”

“What? What’s not all here?”

“There are NO four by fours. They’re listed on the receipt, but they aren’t in the garage. What should I do.?”

“Just start arranging to pay my bail, and wait for further word.”

 

I must really want this DECK pretty bad. There is yet another twist a coming as I make yet another call to my DECK ANALYST. You won’t want to miss it. See you tomorrow.