Lockdowns happen I lose my job Still have a wife and kids to feed Government bucks only go so far. I take a job flagging Outside in minus forty An hour out of town Blizzard conditions Any conditions. This section of highway isn’t too busy Most of the time. Doug had already been on this job For over a year. The job was: You stand on the side of the road Hi-viz and thirty layers of clothes If a car isn’t coming The rock trucks Big Tonka-looking bastards Need to cross Give them a thumbs-up So they don’t have to slow. Doug didn’t do that. The drivers had to operate As if he wasn’t there at all They’d be half-way across the highway Before he stuck out his thumb. Within the first half hour on shift He’d be at the house Two hundred yards Away from his post Standing at their mailbox Having a nice chat. If Doug was at his post He’d just stand and look around Didn’t need to be there at all. We’d take turns for our breaks In the company truck You get fifteen minutes to warm up Doug would fall asleep. Management made sure Someone could cover his sleep schedule. Hard to keep anyone Such a shitty job. Good for Doug. He’d wander over to me Try to chat about his life “I’m goin to Edmonton” says he. “Goin to see a hockey game.” He talked a lot but said nothing Just words, a human parrot No substance at all Rambling with no point to make The world at large Had nothing to do With the thoughts of Doug. There’s a blast scheduled Highway needs to be shut down Doug is not usually meant for this work But we were short staffed. Blasts are timed A precise schedule Once the go is given There’s no stopping it. “Eastbound, shut down your lane” Call your last car Wait for a break in vehicles Flip your sign Confirm the vehicles on the radio Other flagger does the same. Not Doug. “Shut down your lane” Frantic on the radio “What’s your last car, I’m still getting cars” “Shut down your lane, Doug” “OK,” says he. “Shut down your lane, Doug.” Silence. Manager peels out to hunt him down There he is, standing oblivious His sign not flipped She blocks traffic with her truck And her personal stop sign. I wonder if he has the cognitive capacity To understand the consequences Of his inactions. He talked a lot about hockey Who was playing When the next game was No major analysis No player names or strategy “I had to stop betting on games” says he, “‘Cause I lost too much money Betting on the Leafs.” Someone made a killing. One shift it had snowed a ton Doug drove a minivan No winter tires He got stuck. For over an hour: “Where the fuck is Doug?” He had his radio Hadn’t turned it on He was found quite flustered. “Why does this stuff always happen to me?” I had some ideas. His old job, at a hotel Little highway township Maybe a thousand people Word gets around. Someone was leaving jugs of piss in the rooms “Everyone thinks it was me I swear it wasn’t” It was only your rooms, Doug. “How does that happen?” Fucking mysterious case of Piss Jug Doug.
This one goes out to my husband. Big thanks. Sorry you had to freeze your ass off, screaming into the wind.
Im going to write a whole series of stories about Maniacs out on the Jobs HAAH. Ill link you when I do
Reminds me of a guy we used to call Animal. In the logging camps north BC. Used to eat with his hands and never talk. Just grunt.
Im going to write my Cow Boy Coppersmith Stories now.. look out for them.. rough times out there on the sites :)