Nate banged on my door the next morning at seven thirty and said it was time to head to the residence. They’d all had breakfast. When I asked Mike if I could grab a coffee and a burrito, he said, “No. If you want to eat, don’t oversleep.” Words to live by. I could see myself saying the exact same thing to some slacker back in the day when I was the one pissed off at the universe.
We pulled up to the residence of Mr. Bean. He was a big shot in timeshare sales and was being transferred to Las Vegas to clean up the havoc the financial debacle had wreaked. Not a job I would have wanted, to be sure. This being a VIP corporate move, it was our job to pack everything in the house into cartons before loading the two trailers. Mike put me into the kitchen, naturally, as it’s the most difficult room to pack and takes the most time. Nate started in on the basement, Carl on the bedrooms upstairs, Mike in the garage. He took the garage because it takes no finesse and he could take breaks in his truck to smoke his Marlboros. The four of us packed nonstop for two days, and I kept right up with them. Packing cartons hadn’t changed at all during my hiatus, and I’d been trained in Greenwich, Connecticut, so packing high-value items was a breeze. That didn’t stop Mike from coming in periodically and complaining about the small quantity of cartons I had packed. But Nate and Carl kept bringing in difficult items for me to pack and giving me winks in Mike’s direction, so I knew I was doing OK. Neither one of them called me Jonah. They called me U-Turn.
Day three was really going to be the test. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to run up and down stairs carrying furniture into the truck for twelve or fourteen hours. Every group of working men has a hierarchy, and I already knew I was number four in this group. Mike was the driver, and the driver is always number one; and though Nate and Carl were pleasant enough, it was easy to see that they considered me beneath them in status and ability.
First up on loading day were Mr. Bean’s hickory bedroom sets. Hickory is very heavy wood, and there were five bedrooms, each with a handmade triple dresser, bureau, headboard, and nightstand all built by Grandpa. I had nudged a couple of pieces to check their weight the day before; these were certainly the heaviest pieces I’d ever encountered. We started with the biggest set in the master bedroom. Nate and I padded up the triple and with me going backward we snaked down the curving stairway. I could handle it, just. At the bottom of the stairs Carl was waiting with the dolly to wheel it into the truck. Next came the bureau. and this time it was Carl and me, with me going backward again. Carl was holding the top with a humpstrap, so he had the easy end. When a tall piece like a bureau is being carried down a flight of stairs, it’s the bottom guy’s job to press the entire weight of the item to clear the top step. I did this one too, with a stop in the middle for a rest. Piece three was the triple from the boy’s room. This was slightly smaller than the master but still a serious piece. Nate came up, and with me again on the bottom, we took it down. I was getting a bit shaky, but I was still in the ring. The fourth piece was the boy’s bureau. Another monster. Carl grabbed the humpstrap, and we carried it to the top of the staircase for me to press it up. I couldn’t do it.
“Carl, I can’t lift it. Sorry. Can we switch ends on this one?”
At that moment, Mike came to the bottom of the stairs. “Where’s my fucking base?”
Carl, my erstwhile buddy, casually tossed me under the bus, saying to Mike, “U-Turn here says he can’t lift it.”
Mike ran up the stairs cursing.“I guess I have to hump all the furniture and load the truck. Get the fuck out of my way.” He pushed me aside, pressed the bureau against Carl’s humpstrap, and carried it down and out to the truck.
I was crestfallen. Defeated. I was too old for this work. I grabbed some chowder in my arms and went out to the truck to face the music. Sure enough, there were Mike, Nate, and Carl all standing in the trailer looking at me. I set down the chowder and looked at Mike. “I’m sorry, Mike. I just couldn’t lift that last piece.”
Mike looked at me and pointed to the pile of chowder. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?” He paused. “You’re not very good at math, are you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you guys just took down four pieces. Nate took two and Carl took two, and they were both on the top.”
“I don’t count who’s doing what, if that’s your question. I just want to get the work done.”
“Well, you won’t be worth shit by lunchtime if you take everything. You’re not worth shit anyway.”
Then Nate started in. “Hooowee, ol’ white man!” He was talking to me. “I just made forty bucks on you from cousin Carl here. I owe you one, U-Turn.”
“What are you talking about?”
“What am I talking about? We’ve been looking at you the last two days. We seen you can pack, and we know you’re an old fart, and we know folks can pack can’t carry shit. I bet Carl ten bucks you’d fade on that first big bastard. When you carried that down, we went double or nothing on the bureau. No way were you ever going to press that muthafucka. When you carried that down, we went double or nothing again on number three. I figured you were for sure going to fade on him, but I was even and had nothing to lose. Carl here’s a good guy, but he’s got no faith in an old white crystal packer like you. Tell you the truth, I didn’t have any faith either, but I for sure wanted to watch. When that third fucker come down, I was impressed and forty bucks ahead. I asked Carl if he wanted to go again, but he declined. You have to respect a man who knows when to quit. I told Mike to come and watch you do the last one, ’cause there’s no way any mover can take down four of them monsters in five minutes. When you stopped topside and gave up, I was relieved. No reason for anyone to get hurt here just to please Mike. You an all right mover . . . for a white guy.”
Mike broke in. “Nate, are you gonna talk the rest of this shit into the truck or are you going back to work? Everybody, back to work.”
I felt a lot better after that. The packing had taken two days, and the loading of the two trailers took two more. Two trailers of household goods is not typical even for corporate hotshots. The next part of the plan was for me to follow Mike out to Las Vegas with extra stops in Dallas and Scottsdale. At least I’d get lots of driving practice. I have to say this was a good plan of Willie’s to break me back into the business. If Mike hadn’t been such an asshole, it would have been perfect.