This is the tale of Kenneto Wright.
Kenneto was the guy I first worked with at RAC, and by far the worst. He wasn't lazy, or stupid, he was ANGRY. He hated everything equally, and had a whole lot of room in his heart to hate everyone he met. He kept his job for a while though, mainly because he would not take shit from anyone. He had zero tolerance, would never cut anyone any slack on thier stuff. If you were late, you got picked up. Not a way to make money for the comapny, so he always had conflict with the manager.
But Kenneto's shining flaw was his lack of driving ability. Despite driving the box truck almost 100% of the time, he would hit shit CONSTANTLY. I watched him back into an old Crown Vic or Lincoln in the ghetto, check his mirrors to see if anyone saw him, and then drive off. I watched him back into a 6 foot high wooden fence, CRUSHED IT. The whole time I was waving and yelling, but he wasn't even looking in his mirrors.
On one occaision we stopped at a mom and pop gas store so I could get a gatorade and as I'm inside paying for it, I feel the whole damn building shake. Teller doesn;t seem to notice so I finish paying and head outside. Sure enough, Kenneto has hit a big ice chest for selling bags of ice. HARD. I hop in the truck and we drive off.
On another occasion we are headed back to the store, and a woman is in her car, waiting for someone in our loading area. Kenneto creeps closer and closer to the front of her car, waving at her to move. She does, but far too late. Kenneto bumps the front of her subcompant car with the multi-ton moving truck.
The best one? Kenneto was driving down a road in Oxford, looking for a house. We pass it, so he puts the truck into reverse and starts backing up. Since we have about zero visibility directly behind us, he immediatly backs into another car. YAY!
But Kenneto would get in rare form when he was in the PJ's. He was black, and hated nothing more than black people who lived in the PJ's. He would drive the wrong way down one way streets in the PJ's, just so he could glare at people who would look at him funny. He would yell at kids to get out of the damn street to play, and when people would cross the street not at a crosswalk, he would accelerate so they would have to RUN to get out of the way.
That fucker was so crazy.
I wanna have his baby.
Ahh the people who want to bargain. A couple stories stick out. On one occaision a SHADY AS FUCK employee wanted a PS2. Since employees aren't allowed to rent he had his sister rent it. Well, not to long later he gets fired and the PS2 dissappears, I think he went to jail and his "buddy" stole it. Anyway we told his sister she needs to pay for it, or we press charges. Since we had just recently won a court case the locals were pretty gun shy about stealing from us, so she was getting a bit desperate. I get the call.
Dude's Sister - "Hey this is X, I'm calling about the PS2?
OldCharlie - *Immediatly recognise the voice, i got real good at that* "You got my Money?" *I used this phrase CONSTANTLY*
DS - "Uhhh... not yet. I was wondering if there was some OTHER way I could take care of this debt.
Keep in mind this slut is about a 9.5 on my dirty skank-o-meter.
OC - "You mean like a payment plan or something entirely different?"
DS - "Something... different than a payment plan."
I can hear that hope in her voice. I like to hear that right before I crush their dreams.
OC - "Nope, my money or my merchandise."
DS - *Sigh* Okay. *click*
A week later the former employee is out of jail, and tries to break into a Value City next door to my store, presumably to get the money to pay off that PS2. He tried to disable their security alarm by cutting the phone cords leading to the store, the junction box was behind the plaza. Mighta worked if he hadn't fucked up the job. He got caught. Dumbass.
Here's a story about the most threatened I ever felt.
When I was working in Dayton on Needmore road myself and a guy named Phil had to head into the Northland PJ's, in an area in said PJ's called "The Hole". Phil is black, I'm white, and we are rolling into a 100% black neighborhood. As we are driving there Phil tells me that this is a dangerous area and that I should follow his lead no matter what. No prob, I say, the less I have to do the better.
We get to this persons apartment and the door is open, screen door is closed but the fucking screen is torn out so what's the goddamned point of that? We are looking at our stuff and the apartment looks trashed. Noone's coming to the door when we knock, and Phil's getting a little antsy. He wants that furniture bad, but doesn't want to go into that apartment.
So he starts looking around, and the place is like a ghosttown, no people anywhere. No surprise there, people generally scatter when they see us. So Phil finally just says "FUCK IT" opens her door and starts grabbing the couch and chaise lounge.
And the shit hits the fan. People start coming out of nowhere, screaming at us that we can't do that and how illegal that is and Phil drops the couch, calmly looks at me and says,
Phil - "You still have that knife?" I carry a 6" lockblade for opening boxes and whatnot.
OldCharlie - "Fuck yes I do."
Phil - "Put it in your pocket and keep your hand on it. Don't act scared, be calm. But if I tell you to run you take off like a bat outta hell."
OldCharlie - "Goddamn I hate you Phil"
Phil - "Don't be such a pussy."
So these people start walking over to us and Phil puts a big ole scowl on his face and starts talking to them like they are 8 years old. Explaining that he wants his money and she's not gonna hide in someone elses place and not expect him to get crazy about it. At this point I'm pretty sure I'm gonna hafta kill someone today, and it's only Monday, what a drag.
But Phil finally gets tired of treating these people like shit and seemingly out of the blue says, "I'm done with you people, tell that bitch to call me." And we walk to the truck, when we get there he turns to me and says, "Couldn't leave immediatly, dog. Woulda been a sign of weakness. We got out alright though."
OldCharlie - "Jesus Chris Phil you do this often?"
Phil - "First time for me. When we get back to the store I call my wife, tell her I love her."
At no point does this cat have any inflection in his voice. You could chill beer on this guy, meanwhile I'm sweating like a whore in church.
Not a happy time.
I was betrayed by the bernio bros, the cougars, and this guy from back page I hired to keep me from jumping out a window at the DNC.
TOTAL WRECK - crazy-eyed hound is covered in cobwebs, has a vespiary on back, graffiti on side and savage thirst for boat fuel. Frankly, I'm in over my head. He's in room 115 at Motel 6, yours free. 555-2851
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