CHAPTER 8
(The Yellow Chaps Hand-Me-Down)
I didn't care that she had at least 20 years on me. She was filthy rich,skinny as a rail, and owned the entire company. Even behind bars "The Law" had tried to fight me but in this case "I Won". I had entered DCP at 213 pounds and after I was released 9 months later I was a sexpot at 183 pounds. I was back in my skinny jeans and impressing the owner of a small mom and pop shop Distribution company that delivered stairs. Cocalico Distribution. It was the first time an attractive female had touched me in years and I was basking in the moment.
"Oh my gosh!", said Mrs. M, "Is that a Chaps shirt?"
I leaned in just a little bit more towards her desk so she could continue groping at my hand-me-down yellow golfer's shirt. All of this was amusing to me because there was NO WAY IN HELL I would ever buy myself an expensive polo shirt like this. My sister was good friends with her boss that owned a restaurant and I got hand-me-downs from him all the time. He was a little shorter so the pants never fit but I was always getting nice dress shirts for free.
"Why yes mam in fact it is."
She petted it a little more but didn't work her way up the sleeve as evidently she was a happily married woman.
"So do you golf? My husband golfs."
I'm sure with the money you two make the ENTIRE FAMILY golfs I thought to myself.
I just shook my head solemnly no. I couldn't hit a golfball in the direction I wanted it to go if it saved my life and I knew it.
Mrs. M looked over my application while I kept my fingers crossed behind my back. This stair making company wasn't stupid. They were beyond stupid. They were in fact STUPID STUPID and I was feeling quite confident that I was going to land myself my very first truck driving job. Whatever dumb dumb put together the job application for the company was either illiterate or incredibly stupid and I had fell into some luck.
You see. Here's where it gets really funny. And I'm talking REALLY, REALLY funny! The pieces of that mysterious dance over my last paycheck with Officer Sallada was really nothing more than a blessing in disguise. If truth be told if that pretty boy cop would have never issued me those Mickey Mouse misdemeanor resisting arrest charges I NEVER would have gotten the job at Cocalico Distribution. Those dumb stair making people had a misprint in their job application that presented a slight contradiction. Instead of "THE BOX" they were in fact stupid enough to have "two boxes"
Box#1- Have you ever been convicted of a misdemeanor? Check yes or no
Box#2- Have you ever been convicted of a Felony? (If you were convicted of a misdemeanor check no)
Check yes or no
Because Officer Sallada wanted his salad tossed that day up at FlaggerForce it ended up giving me the leverage I needed by being able to honestly check "no" in the second box asking about felonies because of what ensued in parentheses. It was downright funny because most criminals were SO stupid that they wouldn't know if their crime was a felony or a misdemeanor so that's probably why the application was listed that way so the petty criminals wouldn't accidentally check yes to a felony when all they did was commit a misdemeanor. But since pretty boy cop wanted to dance for my paycheck and add misdemeanor in addition to my serious Federal Felonies I was now eligible for hire because the employer never thought one would be capable of committing BOTH misdemeanors AND felonies.
I didn't get a definite answer from Cocalico Distribution the very day that I filled out the application. When I learned that their company's financial advisor just happened to be a deacon member at my brother's church I knew that greatly enhanced my chances of getting hired. I clearly remember being at my Pop Pop's house washing my cherry red 99 Ford Escort when Mrs. M called me on my cellphone. Evidently she had performed a background check for my most recent misdemeanors as they were listed on my application in lieu of the major felonies I was covering up thanks for the loophole I discovered in their job application.
I had a big yellowish brown sponge in one hand and a cellphone in the other. Bubbly suds EVERYWHERE. It was such a beautiful day.
"Hey Blake it's Mrs. M over at Durawood how are you doing today?"
I played my role. I had mastered phone skills over the years watching my father feign mirth in his voice pretending like something hunky dory was going on when in reality it was nothing more than John Wayne re-runs and a finicky wife throwing coffee pots out the window because shoes got left on the floor.
"Oh hey Mrs. M how are you doing today?"
"I'm good. Hey, I ran a report on those misdemeanors and had trouble finding what I was looking for and just thought I'd ask you about what happened."
I tried to be succinct. "I dunno. They owed me some money and I simply refused to leave until I got paid."
There was no chuckling and I could tell Mrs. M really didn't want to spend all day politicking over the issue.
"Okay, well I guess I can work with that. You said it was a resisting arrest charge right?"
"Yes mam."
"Okay. Well it sounds like you were defending yourself so I'm not going to hold that against you."
That's because I was defending myself I thought to myself. But Mrs. M went on. "There is just one thing though."
I embraced myself for the horrible news. I was sure Durawood was an old school company and didn't have time to surf the internet to encounter the comical winky stories that my brother's friends at LNP news insisted on publishing. Didn't all those itsy bitsy spider and lil smokie jokes kind of infringe on my HIPPA rights? How was my home town constantly getting away with this? People murdered people and google said nothing about them. How was LNP news able to publish in a PA paper a story about something that happened in Youngstown Ohio? Who were these monsters?
"Blake are you still there?"
"Yes, I just dropped my sponge. I'm washing my car over at my Pop Pop's house."
"I'd love to hire you but when we met it seemed like you were waffling a bit about really wanting the driving position."
That's because I'm on Federal Probation and or PO's make us look for work. Lucky for me the library doesn't open until 10am which guarantees Arnie (My pugapoo) gets to sit on my lap while I drink my morning Green Mountain coffee at the tax payers expense. You really think Queen B at the SSI office didn't process the illegal arrest and pencil me in for another 9 month TWP? I thought to myself. Why would I want to give up the good times only to wake up at the butt crack of dawn only to scrape ice off a windshield before the sun even came up?
I defended myself. "Well what do you mean?" "I mean. Do you really want the job?"
"Well yeah of course. You understand that I completed trucking school over a year ago and just wasn't sure if I remembered how to drive truck. I would probably need some sort of a refresher so it all comes back."
And those words were my biggest screw up right there. I didn't know that the 26ft box trucks I would be driving were basically U-Haul trucks and didn't require a CDL at all or I could have saved myself some money.
"Okay Blake I'll make a deal with you. I can hire you but I want you to go back to the trucking school and take a refresher class. I'll pay you back the first half after 9 months and the other half after 18 months how does that sound?"
I had thousands and thousands of dollars so it sounded like a pretty good deal especially since she promised to pay it all back.
"Ok deal." I said.
"Great! Let me know when you have finished your refresher and I'll set you up with a start date. Have a pleasant afternoon Blake."
I couldn't believe it. My canary yellow Chaps golfer shirt had done the trick and I couldn't swing a golf club if my life depended on it. I had just completed my very first baby step towards making strides of becoming the very first REAL billy big rigger!