The Four Thirty Meeting

We collect our things and get our timesheets signed by the leadman. We punch the clock and make our way to the sandwich shop. Some of us drive, some catch rides, some walk, some bike but within a few a minutes we are all there. We enter the shop almost like clockwork where the patron of the tiny shop is waiting for our arrival. We all head to the lone fridge tucked in the corner, slide back the glass door and we each grab our 40 ouncer of MGD which our host has so graciously stocked for us and head to the register. Some of us don’t have any money but that’s ok we are extended credit. She knows we get paid every Friday and are good for the $2.75 and because she also knows we aren’t going anywhere.

We all exit the small store out onto the patio and take our usual seats, like children going to their assigned desks of a school classroom. Bob, or Bubba as we call him, hands out the daily crossword that he has made copies of while at work and distributes them to those of us who partake. The day is a Tuesday, which means the crossword is relatively easy. You see the crossword progressively gets harder each day of the week, leading to the brain buster on Friday which is rarely completed. We all have a sinking suspicion that even the creators of the puzzle would be unable to complete it. But alas it is Tuesday so everybody participating has a sporting chance of finishing so the race begins to see who can finish first. Frank a.k.a. Caballo, (it means horse in Spanish, we call him this because since the beginning of time he has worn his hair in a ponytail that reaches all the way down his back like the mane of a horse) the duty crossword puzzle expert will inevitably be the first to finish but I have been known to still the belt from him once or twice.

All the while this is going on we shoot the shit. We talk about how much we hate the company we work for, we brag about our accomplishments at said company, but mostly we rag on each other all in good fun of course. Mostly we unwind and wash away the stresses of the day with each pull of our 40. We tell stories, often repeated stories, of some of the dumb shit we have seen and done while at the work place and laugh hysterically until someone inevitably chokes on their beer spews the suds across the patio and the owner has to come out and quite us down.

At around the same time each evening Bubba, who also happens to be the oldest who has been with the company 30 some odd years, stands up and asks “who’s ready for a little one”?  A little one” is a 24 oz. as opposed to a “big one” which is the 40 ouncer. Bubba always buys because that is the kind of guy Bubba is, he never lets a fellow coworker go thirsty. We raise our hands in unison and shortly after he emerges from the shop cradling an armful of 24 oz. MGD’s and we rush to his aid to relieve him of his bounty. At this point we are almost to the end of our crossword puzzle and if necessary we make trades: give me 34 down and I’ll give you 17 across? ….. deal. 

Sometime the patio is full and people have to stand because there aren’t enough chairs. Sometimes there are only maybe 3 or 4 of us. Sometimes we sit in wife beaters sweating it out and enduring the heat. Other times we are bundled up in coats, gloves, and beenies doing our crossword by flashlight as it is late in the year and the sun sets earlier. Sometimes we are unable to do the crossword because it is raining and the letters will not hold their place in the assigned boxes because the ink begins to run. Yes we do our crossword puzzles in ink as opposed to pencil because we are not amateurs. We do not need erasers because mistakes are never made.

We are hardly ever bothered by other customers because no one really comes to the sandwich shop after lunch. Monica, the small Asian woman who owns the shop, in all reality could and probably should close the shop after the lunch rush. But she says stays open waiting for us to arrive, her customers who ironically order no sandwiches. 

Eventually the time comes when the sun is just beginning to set, crosswords have been completed and handed to Cabballo for confirmation, the laughter has died down somewhat and we bask in our liquid state of contentment. We sit after a hards day work of creating products that make our owner money hand over fist and reflect. We are kings in that moment and the sandwich shop our kingdom. Then the door opens and Monica sticks her head out and tells us she is ready to close. We down the last of our little ones and begin to stack the chairs while some run to the bathroom to empty their blatters before she locks the door. We carry the chairs inside and exit the patio. Bubba locks the gate behind us as Monica leaves out of the front. We say our goodbyes and head our separate ways. Some go to the dive bar down the street, some to the pool hall to hustle, while others simply go home that is until we meet again the following day to do crossword puzzles, shoot the shit, and forget about our worries for that brief amount of time where we are untouchable. 

Pieces and Creases

TBN