Gabrielle Taylor's "Cockluck"
March 18, 2002
The bar was usually slow between one and three. Today it was busy until quarter after two because of a magazine marketing convention in the Congress Centre and everyone was taking long, long lunches. Every seat was smeared with the round grey behind of a hustling thirty to forty year old man coloured somewhere between milk and coffee with milk. They all seemed to bald the same way, in an arrow up their skull, and a little round cap at the top. Even the fit ones had fat fat fingers with blocky rings.
But by quarter after two there were only three small groups left at tables and two men tight up against the bar drinking beer and eating peanuts. One of them -- Donnie -- would throw a handful of peanuts into his mouth and crunch them as he ate, peppering his rumpled blue shirt with little peanut shards.
"I want you eating before ten in the morning, I've told you that before. Rita is there to work -- they're all there to work. I know you love to sit there in a restaurant like we did this morning and chat for an hour but not those guys, they're there to work. Don't come to my office and say you want to discuss stuff when there are three people in the car wanting to work.
"Remember Randy? He took people to amusement parks and nobody saw a paycheque. Last week he took his whole crew -- on salary no less -- to a guitar shop and they watched him play guitars for an hour. Today's an exception -- gimme some of those pretzels -- because I want to make plans. But like David, he's there to work, he wants to make sure he gets a paycheque, we'd get out of the hotel maybe nine, nine thirty and go for breakfast -- David's not there to socialize. We're socializing now but we're planning.
"Look, Sean, I want you to write down what your goals are for the next week -- write as many words as possible. I'm going to say this one more time. At factories -- you listening to me? Hey!" He smacked Sean. Sean was younger and thinner, diffident, with a high hairless forehead and a wispy blond ponytail.
"Listen to me. At factories all around the world -- at factories all around the world they show up together at nine and they leave at five. You chose this kind of work -- maybe ten hours a day -- and if you're hungry I want you to eat beforehand. Guys leave the office for breakfast all the time -- not just one guy wasting one hour but four guys wasting four hours. That's two orders per guy -- I mean, you're like women who can't go to the bathroom alone. Why should Rita show up at the office at ten when nobody'll have any orders for her before eleven thirty? I'm trying to break you of those bad habits from Randy when we'd all hang out in restaurants all the time. I'd figure we'd have some orders by eleven when you guys would just be leaving a tip in the restaurant.
"Rob used to call at five on Fridays begging for work -- Rob doesn't want to work after five, Rob doesn't want to work weekends--"
"Yes he does," Sean blurted. "I seen Rob's wife--"
"SAW. You SAW. Don't talk poor English to a client, Sean, it makes you look like a moron."
"I saw Rob's wife," Sean said patiently. "If I had a wife like that I'd want to work weekends too."
"Well, whatever, maybe, but you know, Rob'll get the extra orders and you'd just be doing an hour here and an hour there. I don't want to sound harsh, Sean -- I mean, I do, but you're my brother and I've bailed you out of a lot of shit already and I don't want this to keep happening. Like how the other David still hasn't gotten a paycheque. That's three weeks and he's still not paid. I want to see how as a team -- can I get another beer, miss? Miss? Another beer? As a team we can make everybody happy.
"Like say you've got enough orders on Thursday, say, you don't have to work Friday -- but if you're missing one shitty little order your whole crew has to go out for a whole shift on Friday. You don't get them for one order and send everybody home though do you? You work a whole shift, and maybe that'll give you the incentive to do better next Thursday. To make somebody go to their neighbor for a deposit instead of you going away empty handed. Take whatever they've got -- I saw the other David come back with a, hah hah, a box of frozen fish as a deposit."
Donnie drank down his beer quickly and set the glass on the bar. He looked at his brother.
Sean eventually said, "what if they don't have anything I want?"
Donnie grinned and banged Sean on the shoulder. "Take something anyway! Convert them! Take their empty beer bottles if you have to, I mean, it's not nothing, right? It doesn't make much to create a sense of, you know, obligation, in the guy. He feels bad because you're a working guy trying to give him a good deal and you're taking his dirty old beer bottles. You think he won't pay up? Huh? Huh?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah what?"
"Yeah, I guess he'll pay."
"That's right. He's the guy you want. A guy like that pays, because if he doesn't pay, we sic a collection agency on him and his credit gets wrecked if he doesn't pay. A guy like that is better than a guy with money who doesn't care if he has a few hundred bucks unpaid on his sheet. So even though Vanier seems like a lousy place to work, it generates the most revenue. You get it?"
"Yeah.
"Yeah what?"
"Yeah, I get it, I get it already. Let's get out of here, we've got work to do, right?" Sean stood up leadenly.
"That's my guy! Hey miss, we've gotta go, can I get the bill?"
Posted by gtaylor at March 18, 2002 10:11 PM