Because the Road to Nowhere Leads to Me


Lies, Greed & Misery — My Promotion to Management

Dish1I had been working as a delivery driver for a while when one of the restaurant managers left for another job. The assistant manager was immediately promoted and the restaurant’s owner began searching for someone to fill the newly vacated position.

I had watched the management team working tirelessly to keep the machine running. I saw how they came in before sunrise to get the establishment ready and stayed late into the night only to drag themselves out of bed and repeat the process a few hours later. There was even one time where the assistant manager had decided to spend the night in the restaurant because it was easier than driving home.

Why would anyone subject themselves to such abuse? I had asked myself the question a number of times and thought that maybe the answer was salary based but neither the assistant or the manager seemed to be living in the lap of luxury, not even comfortably most of the time. So it must have been some form of consensual madness that had taken them and now the restaurant’s owner was attempting to tempt me into the insanity.

I wanted nothing to do with it and I let him know it immediately. “But just give me a moment before you say no.” I listened to his words, his reasons why I should leave the open road and lock myself away inside a box for 50, 60 or 70 hours per week. I should have listened to my first instinct but his talk of making me a General Manager in charge of overseeing the operations of not only one but all of his restaurants with a starting salary of $50,000 per year gave me reason to pause.

“Of course you have to go through a training period” he added, “but after that, you will receive a significant bump in pay.”

I should have held my ground. I should have remembered how exhausted the management team was. And that one half of that team had just left to hopefully find a better life elsewhere. Still I thought about my status as a delivery driver with the plastic name tag pinned to my red shirt like a member of the away team on Star Trek that was predestined to die. As much as I enjoyed getting paid to drive fast in my Rx-7, I knew that it was never meant to be a lifelong career choice, at least not one that I would settle for and the consensual insanity overtook my reasoning. God help me; I accepted that Devil’s offer.

Night Rider — My Working as a Delivery Driver

City Lights

I get that feeling running through my veins
You know it drives me insane
In the car, slam the door, turn the key
And I’ll be free on that highway tonight
Dokken, “Nightrider”

There is something intoxicating about being behind the wheel of a well-tuned machine with the tight cornering control of the steering wheel in your hands and the seat cradling your body when the accelerator is pressed to the floor.

I realized that after I had walked out on my job as a repo man, there had been one aspect of it that I had really enjoyed and that was the freedom of being behind the wheel of my Rx-7. I had worked a number of desk jobs in variations of 9 to 5 Hells with fluorescent lighting and after never really giving the idea of being a delivery driver much thought, I realized it was what I wanted.

I took a job at one of the more expensive restaurants in town betting that people willing to pay the higher prices would offer better tips. The manager scheduled my first night on a Friday and out of three drivers supposed to work the shift, I was the only one that showed up. To make matters worse, the city was being drenched by a massive rainstorm and I didn’t know the street names nearly as well as I needed to.

Despite the difficulties, I accepted the challenge and began my shift. I shot from one delivery to the next with the rain coming down in sheets. By the third or fourth location, my clothes were soaked and the cold began setting in with shivers. The main streets were crowded with other vehicles and streaks of light while the roads less traveled became black with reflection.

Still as crazy as it all may have seemed, I was enjoying the night. I was right about the tips and quickly learned that a quick smile or witty banter made for a bigger payday from many of the women that greeted me. Later I would meet a regular that ordered from us at least once or twice a week. She would always order a medium rare ribeye and ask for me by name. She was almost always three sheets in the wind when I arrived, sometimes mostly dressed, sometimes not. Her relentless flirting made it obvious that she wanted more than that steak but in all honesty, I really wasn’t interested after surviving my previous party life. I would often stay and keep her company for a moment however because she seemed lonely and I didn’t see any harm in talking.

There was another delivery to a local industrial company. It was a fairly large order for $250.00 worth of food and the supervisor asked me to drive my Rx-7 through the plant. I had heavy machinery and factory workers on all sides as I navigated through tight areas and weaved through the maze of metal until reaching the conference room door. I unloaded the order on the table and walked out with a $50.00 tip along with a fond memory that I will never forget.

As I continued working the job, I met a number of people that would become friends. Donald was another driver and we had a friendly rivalry going where we joked about our both being the best workers the company had. I would ask how it felt to always be in second place and he would snap back with the promise of letting me know when he wasn’t in first. He was funny and one of the luckiest guys I had ever met. He put a few quarters into a slot machine once and walked out with an extra $300.00 in his pocket. He was also incredibly lucky when it came to concert tickets and I lost count of how many he won from radio station contests but it did put us front row at a KISS show.

The streets became well known and my speeds increased until my delivery times were shaved down to nearly nothing. I really was the fastest driver the company had but I’m betting that Donald would argue that point even today. What started out with a questionable beginning had turned into one of the most enjoyable work experiences that I ever had.

Seek & Destroy — My Worst Day as a Repo Man

lonelyroad2Scanning the scene in the city tonight
We’re looking for you to start up a fight
There’s an evil feeling in our brains but it’s nothing new
You know it drives us insane
Metallica, Seek & Destroy

It had been a long summer of ghosts with the faces of those I met through work haunting my memory. Most weren’t bad people; just the victims of poor decision making or circumstance and I was the boogeyman that came to remind them exactly how dire their situation was.

Randy and I were headed down I-26 east towards Charleston in search of some backwater town that mirrored countless others that littered the South Carolina low country. It was a poor town filled with poor people and the scene had become all too common for me. We had been sent there by our employer with a name, workplace and basic description of the car that we were to repossess.

We found the target parked at the grocery store where the owner was working and I parked my Rx-7 behind it while Randy went inside to search for her. After he disappeared, a young blonde woman in her early twenties could be seen moving towards my location. She seemed nervous as she rushed between cars and hurried across the parking lot just short of running. I had seen the tactic before, the sneaking out in hopes of getting to the vehicle before we caught her. We had a few people give us the slip in the beginning but after months on the job with our collecting two or three cars per day, we had pretty much seen it all or so I thought.

She approached and with a panicked tone asked me to please move my car so she could get out of there. I denied her request explaining that it was my partner in the store looking for her and she already knew why we were there. She began crying. It wasn’t uncontrollable bawling or hysterics that some people resorted to upon our arrival but pressed lips with silent tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked around weighing her options and and then there was that moment where we all eventually realize it is the end of the line and there is no escape.

Randy appeared a few moments later and we offered to take her anywhere she needed to go. That’s when the bargaining started. She suggested that we didn’t need to take her car, that instead the three of us could go somewhere private and work out a deal. She would give us anything we wanted if we would just look the other way and let her keep the car.Randy and I looked at each other to gauge the other’s reaction to the offer. It would be a lie if I said it wasn’t tempting but principles prevailed and we turned her down.

Randy got in the car with her while she drove to her parents’ house and I followed from behind. When we got there, a few of the family members came outside to meet us. I recognized the hatred in their eyes as they stared at us with disapproval. Their daughter fought with a baby seat that had been latched down into the back seat and wrestled it through the driver side door before we took our leave.

Randy later told me that the young woman continued to prostitute herself while they were alone in the car together. She suggested that with my not knowing the area that the two of them could escape down one of the back roads and have some fun for a while before he let her go and had me come pick him up somewhere. As Randy relayed the story to me, all I could think about was the baby seat. I wondered what her story was, how she came to that point in her life and how desperate she must have been to hold onto what little she had left.

I was tired of taking from people that didn’t have much to start with and for me it was the final straw. I had as much as I could handle and wasted no time telling Randy that it was my final day working for the repo company. He wasn’t happy with the news and did his best to change my mind using a very logical argument. He made good points and was absolutely right but the decision had been made. I also knew that with the month being nearly over, I needed to find something else to pay the dues before the boogeyman came knocking at my door.

Twilight Zone — A New Roommate Moves In

What is it that makes us want to surrender our personal space to someone else? Sometimes it is as simple as a relationship where closeness takes priority. Other times it is required to share in the responsibility of making ends meet. And sometimes it is the fear of being alone that prompts us to seek out the company of others. It is not a decision that should be taken lightly. Every pro and con should be weighed and despite our best efforts, rarely do new roommates work out as we had hoped.

Heather was in the process of moving out of our apartment and a chain of events led to Randy moving in. I really don’t remember if I was looking for a new roommate or if his needing a place to stay was enough for me to take pity on him and extend the invite. The two of us had been working together for months as repo men, shared a lot of the same interests and always got along well. That should have been enough but as much as I thought I knew Randy, there was much that remained a mystery. After he moved in, I found out more about him than I ever wanted to know.

The first problem we faced was his feet, more specifically the odor surrounding them. He had never removed his shoes while we were travelling together and the first time the smell of a sweaty gym locker permeated the apartment, I knew that something had to be done. Randy was good about keeping his feet clean but there was no hope for his shoes. He washed them repeatedly and after that failed, set them outside in the apartment breezeway. We thought we had found a solution to the problem until one of our neighbors tracked down the smell and came knocking at our door asking that the shoes be removed.

Then there was his unusual collection of porn. I enjoy adult entertainment but like the guy who likes getting his fudge packed by his girlfriend and her strap on or the woman that covers herself with peanut butter before calling the dog into the room to lap it off, some things that happen behind closed doors should be locked away forever. I was at my computer desk when I noticed that the printer was out of paper. As I reached for the ream, a loose stack of printed pages fell onto the floor. Being the days before porn was so portable, I thought it was just a collection of attractive women that Randy had found on the internet and decided to print out for later use but upon closer inspection, I discovered that every single one of them had a penis. I had heard of hermaphrodites but just like felching, scatting, snowballing or necrophilia, there are some words that should come with a warning label before Googling. This was one of those moments where I knew that nothing good could possibly come from my asking Randy about his collection and the and the pages were put back where I found them.

Foot odor and chicks with dicks aside, Randy really wasn’t that bad as a roommate. He was a quiet guy, cleaned up after himself and always had his half of the rent ready at the first of the month. It was a welcomed change after surviving a few ex-girlfriends and one ex-wife.

An Affair of the Heart — My Tortured Relationship

There is something fundamentally flawed in the human spirit. Why is it that we so often try to rationalize the decisions we make regarding relationships and all that they encompass when we know that our hearts are based on emotion rather than rationale? How can a choice made the night before seem so wrong the morning after? And what is it that makes us wake up on one of those mornings after, look to the person at our side and think this has got to end?

My marriage had ended before I knew it was over and I was in the very same bed with another woman before the sheets even cooled. Meanwhile, my wife was down the hall with another man and our friends were caught somewhere in the middle trying to make sense of it all while we held an ongoing grudge match where we verbally assaulted each other at every turn.

As soon as we were able, Heather and I moved out. The storm settled and the waters calmed. I still had a wife on paper but Heather had been accepted as my girlfriend and we were making the relationship work. Several months passed with things going well and then there was that morning after where I decided to end it.

I of course tried to rationalize my decision. I questioned where I had come from and the decisions that led to that point in my life. I didn’t want to be tied down with nothing but small social gatherings, informal dinner parties and board games to look forward to. I needed some space, some time to think for myself, to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to return to the party life and enjoy every drop of excess that came with it. I wanted to hit the town at Midnight, stay out until dawn and sleep until Noon just as I had done before… That was the load of crap I kept telling myself anyway. The absolute truth that I would have never admitted to anyone was that I was afraid of failing. Deep down I knew that if Heather and I stayed together long enough, I would find a way to fuck it up and I didn’t want to go through that again.

It took some time before I was ready to talk with her. I really didn’t know what I was going to say because I didn’t fully understand it myself. There was a lot of confusion. Incoherent thoughts seemingly disconnected suddenly colliding to become entangled and twisted. None of it made any sense but there we were with my telling her that she had to leave and her asking me why she couldn’t stay. I’m sure I pulled some bullshit out of the mental vapors as an offering to answer her question but it didn’t make it any easier. I had never intended to hurt Heather but the words just weren’t there. She eventually conceded but I knew that she wanted me to have a change of heart that never happened. Shortly thereafter, we said our goodbyes and she was gone.

Bad Company — Our Friends Reaction to the Divorce

AVP Pool

When a couple decides to end the relationship, people often talk about the reasons behind it and the damage it caused to the individuals involved. There may be talk of the man being an asshole or the woman being a bitch and if the couple has been together long enough, there may even be talk of the children and the effect that the separation will have on them.

Rarely do people talk about the friends of the newly separated couple even though there is an undeniable impact on their lives. Those who would be friends suddenly find themselves caught somewhere between having to choose sides and avoiding all interaction. And all they have to help with the decision is what they know or at least think they know. Before airing dirty laundry on reality television, Facebook and other so-called social networks became the norm, people struggling with a relationship would often keep their problems contained to the family or perhaps a few select friends.

While Madison and I were having problems, we kept it between the two of us. Absolutely nobody outside of our home knew anything about the issues we were having and it came as quite a shock when I removed the mask and announced my move to Maine.

My and Madison’s circle of friends had known us to be the first married couple in the group. They really didn’t know anything about my hard partying lifestyle before Madison and saw us as a good match. When we first announced that we were getting divorced, several friends had trouble accepting the idea and declared that out of all of us, they thought that we had the best chance of making marriage work.

After the initial shock, our friends had to try and understand why our marriage failed. They were given some details by me just as assuredly Madison and hidden somewhere between the two of us was the truth.

Most of our friends were couples themselves – Brad and June, Shawn and Shelly, Johnny and Jeanine and then off in the distance was Seth and Lindsey, who never seemed to make it to any of our social gatherings. Out of everyone from our circle, Damian was the only friend I had that was flying solo.

Lines in the sand were drawn and some of our friends chose sides. I had Damian in my corner. Brad, Shawn, Johnny, June and Shelly tried to remain neutral while Jeanine, Lindsey and by default Seth, took Madison’s side. It made sense because Jeanine was Madison’s best friend and Lindsey had hated me from the beginning believing I was a bad influence on poor pussy-whipped Seth who wasn’t allowed to have a thought of his own after being put on lockdown.

Having the majority of our friends try to maintain a neutral position seemed like the best choice but that didn’t make it any less awkward when I showed up with Madison often appearing sometime afterward. I remember hanging out, laughing and having a good time but whenever Madison arrived, the room would become stifled with tension. The laughter would stop and the conversations would die down to whispers as everyone walked on glass. Uncomfortable silences can be difficult when it is just between two people but when the entire room shares that moment; it becomes a new kind of monster.

I grew so tired of attempting to avoid eye contact along with the hateful stares and quips that followed when we failed. When Madison and I were newlyweds, I could have never imagined causing her such grief but this is where we were at after seven years of marriage and our friends were caught in the crossfire.

Separate Ways — My Marital Dissolution and New Apartment

There is something very alluring about the prospect of moving into a new home. It could be the desire to improve your station, your status or just a change of pace offering something new to experience. The desire is especially strong when you know that your company, that your very presence is just being tolerated in your current home and with both Heather and I working, we knew it was time for us to get our own space.

I had only lived in one apartment before and it was so overrun with roaches that exterminators had been contracted to come in every few months to bomb the entire complex. We would have to cover most of our kitchen area in plastic and evacuate the premises unable to return home for at least eight hours after the job was done. We would often come home to a fog filled environment and open windows to air the place out. Roaches could still be seen moving across the floor, a bit slower perhaps but definitely not dead.

When Madison and I moved out of that first apartment and into the house, we had some unwanted hitchhikers, most of which had made their home in the warm electronics of my entertainment center. I remember shaking the equipment outside or disassembling it completely in an attempt to get rid of them. The entertainment center itself sat outside for a few days while I worked to remove all the pests.

We managed to get rid of the roaches and our marriage was good for a while. It was really good but after several years and a number of mistakes, I found that I was the unwanted pest in our home. For all intents and purposes, I was with Heather and my wife was with a wannabe Bartender named Brian. She had claimed the house as hers and I couldn’t wait to get out of there to ease everyone’s discomfort.

When Heather and I first started looking for our own place, I knew exactly where I wanted to live. There were some very nice apartments on the east side of town, located in the heart of a historic neighborhood with proud heritage. The apartments were conveniently located to a number of specialty shops and eateries. And very well landscaped in a natural wooded setting complete with squirrels and chipmunks. There was a private pool, fitness room and clubhouse for social gatherings and as an added bonus, the apartment was free of cockroaches. It was everything I wanted and we went for it.

Heather and I moved in and my daughter came to stay with us for the summer through an informal arrangement that Madison and I had made. My daughter was five years old at the time and I know she didn’t understand why I was living in the apartment and her mother was living in the house but I wanted her to understand that I still loved and would always be there for her.

I remember one of my favorite aspects of the second floor apartment was the large bay window. My computer desk fit into it nicely and despite being surrounded by local businesses, the canopy of trees kept the neighborhood relatively peaceful. It had been months since I really slept after being tormented by the voices but after we settled in, I finally found some much needed rest.


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