My Name’s NOT Toby!

…Nor is it Kuntea Kinte!
If you’re not laughing… go watch “Roots”, its ok… I’ll wait, go ahead, I’ll be here when you get back…
Do – dee – do – dee do… dum du dum du dummmm

OK! You done?

Great, back to business:

So, I had quite the unproductive day. When I woke up this morning, the weather didn’t look great, so I held true to last night’s decision of not going to work. Then, when I woke up again (a couple hours later) I find that not only is it beautiful and sunny out, but that it is also a nice cool mild temperature out. I did not however, regret my decision of staying home.

Before I continue bitchin and moanin… I have a thanks and an apology to say.
Ranger Larry… I still kinda believe my T-rex theory about your eye sight, and we might still have our differences of opinion like; in the order that things should be done,
the way certain things should be done,
who should do certain things,
where certain things should be placed,
what things should be kept and how,
what things should be thrown away and in what way,
the responsibilities of the OA,
the pronunciation of “Home Depot”,
religion,
philosophy,
psychology,
government,
politics,
scouting,
the camp,
how many things at camp should be named after me,
the method of taking care of Lake Janis,
the method of taking care of the pool,
how often the filters need to be cleaned,
who should clean the filters…

ok, ya know what, the rest of this list could take awhile, so I’ll just skip to the important part. Larry, in the end, on a personal level, you’re an alright and nice guy. I can hold a pretty descent conversation with you, in fact, have even enjoyed a few. And I’ll never forget that the day I left camp before my trip to Kenya, out of all the people sitting around that table, you gave me one of the best hugs. And, despite all the times you pinned the blame on me for something (whether I really had any part in it or not) no matter how little or non-existent the evidence you had for my involvement in how things got messed up… you still took my side of an argument once or twice, and helped me get my contract extended when I really needed the work and the money. You may have this amazing ability to test that whole “Brotherhood of Cheerful Service” thing like no one’s business, but you do at least allow for water breaks. You may take a group of scouts to the most secluded part of camp on the hottest day of summer to have them dig a trench (for you) but… you will make for damn sure that not one of them passes out, and that each one of them makes it back to the dining hall for lunch.

I always thought to myself, that between you, and my crazy high school football coach, I could withstand anything else life threw at me. Well you know what. You quite possibly have saved my lungs from bleeding out due to all the indoctrination and fear of the hanta virus that you have instilled in me. You have made me realize the “importance” (yes, sarcasm) of OSHA. And your forcing of me to do arduous labor on projects that I really had zero interest in, have helped build up my skills in patience, and putting up with crap I don’t want to be a part of. I thought that no matter who I work for, I can go into the situation knowing I can handle it, because of my time, with Ranger Larry.

Well, you know what, you deserve a thank you. Because I managed to not kill those assholes I was working with for the last three days. These guys, made you look like a saint. SAINT I TELLS YA, SAINT! You where NEVER that bad. Although, I did have an advantage with you, you couldn’t quite work me to death because I am a fellow scout and you’d feel bad for killing me, plus you knew you had to see me again. These assholes… a laborer is expendable. The phrase “day laborer” is quite literal with them, because that’s how quickly they go through them. I could have gone back today, but, my shoulder really did have a bit of pain. Pain that could have worked through, but I really felt was not worth it, monetarily speaking. Plus, to top it all off, hot Danish girls also weren’t going back today. I was reminded of the story of Nazi’s who would take some Polish people, have them dig a large trench, then line them up in the trench, shoot them dead, then have another group of Polacks bury them. The Nazi’s, having the first batch buried, would then have the newer group dig a large trench, have them line up in it, shoot them dead, and have another group of Polish repeat the entire cycle. I am not saying that these guys are Nazi bad… it just reminded me of Nazi bad. Although… I wouldn’t put it past them.

I finally get around to heading out to the vineyard to collect my monetary reimbursement for services rendered as was previously negotiated, and what is the situation that I drive into? The Boss, in his newly installed pool, WHILE the people are still working on the cement surrounding it. The wife standing there was watching the workers. Then, the stoner was fiddling around with something to give the appearance of being busy. Then the wife walks up to me.
“I’m here to get my pay”
“Oh, I haven’t gone into town to the bank yet”
“Oh… umm… what?”
“Yes, I’ve been a bit busy here”
(Ya… I can tell by the whole pool lounging and pointing your finger to the workers)
“Would it be alright if I dropped it off at the place your staying?”
“I suppose so…”
“Ok, will you be home around 3?”
“Well, I had some errands planned like open up an Australian bank account, but being that… I HAVE NO MONEY… I guess that won’t be happening”
“Oh, ok, well, I better get that done as soon as I can”
“Ya… if you would, that would be great”

Adam and I leave, we return home, and I go online. 3 o’clock comes and goes. Then so does 3:30. 4 o’clock arrives and soon after so does Paul from the farm. Patience is wearing extremely thin. I begin plotting all the horrendous things I could possibly do to the farmer if my money is not in my possession by 5. Many, many ideas come to mind. A meat pie is consumed, and still, no money. I text her son (being that his is the only number I have, and all I can do is text) a simple message, “Where is my money?” Another meat pie consumed. I look away from the window just long enough to put my plate away, I’m gearing up for war wondering if I should take my pocket knife with me to put some of those horrendous thoughts into practice, when suddenly I hear Adam’s voice from the other room, “There’s a blue ute outside Edward!” Finally, at last, my money, with 4 minutes left on the clock before something very bad potentially happened.

That’s the other thing Larry, you always made sure my hours where kept straight, so that I might earn and receive the proper amount of money. I never saw myself saying this, especially so publicly but…

Thanks for everything Ranger Larry.




P.S.
Note:
For those who might think the title and opening line is offensive… buck up biznatches. My Indian ancestors where the Spaniard’s bitches, and even Spain and England took their abuse from Rome back in the day, the whole world is one giant game of “tag” and right now, Hackmed is “it”, we all had our turn, big whoop. Deal with it.