Tanya (deleted entry)

The following was a deleted entry for a new book. I just wanted to get this out there.

Me and 4H= Huge success!

In 6th grade, money was becoming a resource that my parents couldn’t provide enough of. Working was a difficult option because I was significantly under the age where I could work at anything other than field work for farmers. This option was not available for me because, well, I was lazy. Even in my utmost desires of material things could I force myself to work the fields of a farm for 12 hours a day. This idea was equivalent to moving overseas to become a translator. I didn’t have the capabilities.

What I did have though was a father. A father whom know people in the community. A father who looked up to work as his own savior and wanted the best for his kids. My work ethic thus far had proven to be lacking however the desire for things started to change that.

Her name was Tanya. She was thin. Uncomfortably thin. She wore the lose fitting string tank-tops intended to fit tight, however lose on her. Her hygiene looked delinquent in accordance with that of someone who worked on cars, however hasn’t showered the work off from the day before. The man with her, her boyfriend looked similar. His unkempt, oversized t-shirt draped over his tight, stain-covered jeans as someone who is sloppy, not someone who works hard.

I don’t know how my dad knew these people, or the extent of his background checks, however one Saturday he dropped me off in a junk yard and said “see you at 4.”

Prior to my first day at work, I was told about an opportunity from my dad involving some light work for some people he knew. I was always intrigued by my dad’s rolodex of people because they were vast and extensive. One day he could say we were meeting Kurt and we go to a mansion of a house and the next he could say Ray to have us weaving through a damaged fence and a junk yard dog. My dad did not discriminate for the company he kept. I however was more judgmental. This was my mom’s doing. She would let slip her thoughts of others when driving and point out their differences in anger as if that was the reason for slow driving.

“Move out the way ya big haired lady.”

Paying attention to differences in others and using them against them when they did wrong became my norm. It became my behavior when frustrated. It was like my frustration allowed me to focus on flaws of others and point them out to justify my reaction.

“Oh Juan with your oversized hands and your pencil mustache in 6th grade.” This as he would blow loudly in my ear just to see my reaction.

Tanya’s father owned the place my father had sold me on working for. It was a literal junkyard. Against my initial thoughts, the pay proposed to me was $10 an hour. This was a fortune, for anything I wanted only cost $10 total. With my quick, lousy math I figured I could buy whatever I wanted with this type of money. I started thinking of dart guns, Nerf guns, maybe even my own shoes and cool clothes, a habit I was developing.

The first day my dad dropped me off involved a combination of dread for grueling work and anticipation for the lunch I convinced my dad I needed. A Chuckwagon sandwich, a Grab Bag of Chips, a soda, and of course a King-sized Milky Way. I was all set and needed the food for fuel. After all, I was going to be a laborer now.

“Look at this place.” I thought to myself sitting passenger seat of my dad’s pickup on a Saturday morning driving into the junk-laden lot. I had driven by this particular junk yard for a few years however never thought I would be going inside of it and getting paid to move around some metal pieces, the work promised to me.

Tanya came out from behind the controls of the large compacting machine, the machine seen in movies that could crush cars. She shook my dad’s hand and looked at me eye to eye. I was larger than she was, though in life experiences and my natural nervous abilities has me picturing looking up to her, an image that could not have been true.

“Is this Luke?” she says assessing me for my sturdiness as to the ability I had to do the work required of me.

“Yup, he is happy to be here.” This I could never tell if my dad was the eternal optimist and thought he believed what he said, or if in fact this was his sarcasm.

“Hello” I say to Tanya, stereotypically timid, doing my best to try and seem more adult.

“Well today is going to be a pretty easy day…” As she went on about what it is I was going to do, I couldn’t help but fade in and out of what she was saying. She mentioned so many different things I didn't know, that in trying to guess what she was saying left me more confused and figured the directions would be redelivered later.

After all, I knew that I was younger than anybody else there and I was going to take advantage of this.

Tanya tells my dad goodbye and they confirm the time to each other for when to pick me up, a time that is hours, lifetimes in the future of this bitter moment.

As my dad pulls away along with my free Saturday, my sadness and regret starts to bubble from inside of me. I was always easily provoked to the emotion of sadness, however sometimes when least expected it would come up. I would get sad after a birthday or special event because it was over. I would get sad when I opened a gift I really wanted. I felt guilty is what a therapist would later inform me of.

In this moment as the dust from my dad’s pick up settles and Tanya’s tone changed when she handed me gloves, my gut feeling was that I shouldn’t be here. I stamped the feeling down for I wanted the money and had already mentally put things in my shopping cart. Some things like a new video game system were going to be months in the future. So, I assumed this gut feeling was the lazy me saying I didn’t want to be here and look what I was missing out on.

Throughout this first day I don’t remember a specific objective. I felt like I was moving pieces of material from one place to another and then back again. There were tiny pieces of material, larger ones, medium sized glass ones from a smashed car’s windshield. I remember looking into piles of metal and thinking “there could be a snake in there.” A fear that eventually haunted my dreams, still to this day.

The heat of the sun was blaring on my back as my jeans and T-shirt felt unseasonable. I had never worn pants for work purposes before. Up until this point, I had only known clothes for fashion sense. In the winter I wore jeans and in the summer I wore shorts. There was no need to wear jeans if hot, duh. This job however was a physical job working alongside other adults, Tanya’s boyfriend and his friend included.

All the things I did, they were right there next to me. There was no discussion and there were no official breaks. There was time in between moving stuff from different piles where I stood, confused as to the motive, however breaks only seemed to be taken for those who smoked.

Tanya was short and commanding since my dad left. It was as though she didn’t want me there and was forced to babysit for a friend. As I had understood it, they were looking for the work and my dad overheard about it. She acted as if she was doing me the favor. The boyfriend and his friend were the same, except more quiet about their discomfort. They were short in any response but when I placed something in the wrong pile they would be quick to point it out and then give a long definition of why it was wrong and how I need to pay attention.

I didn’t pay attention. Instead I would allow my mind to drift into what I was going to do with all that money. Even today alone was going to pay me close to $100. Well, $70 actually, but I thought maybe I would get a tip, like people do at restaurants, or like my dad would do sometimes when I mowed the lawn really well. As the day went on the sadness I had as my father left was slipping into thinking about my changed life with income and then eventually end on looking at the pile of junk and realize the hours I had left.

Lunchtime came and I didn’t need reminded of it. I was used to sitting and eating whenever my heart felt like it. At home I would get bored, not hungry, so hunger was a really uncomfortable feeling for me. By the time break happened I was prepared to go sit somewhere and eat my lunch in peace. I loved the gas station sandwiches and chips, it was a meal that reminded me of family travels. I had also went trucking with my dad a few times were we lived on these things.

As I started towards my lunchbox Tanya yells out that we are going to a Mexican restaurant to eat. I was familiar with the place and thought that was a nice option for them. I figured everyone would have brought their lunch as well and we would eat and I would pass through at least one hour of my day comfortably. Tanya said “you’re coming with us,” in a way where I felt like she could tell I was looking forward to my own lunch.

“I brought my lunch.” I say, frustrated she is ruining my plan.

“No you’re coming with us.” As though I was being babysat. This upset me but I hadn’t a choice in the matter.

When we were going into the restaurant I attempted to grab my lunchbox and bring it in with me, but Tanya said “No” and that they would buy me lunch. I didn’t complain because that meant I would have snacks for later and a large Milky Way candy bar after a hard day’s work would be well earned.

I ate with not only Tanya, boyfriend, and friend, but it was a family gathering where I met her father and some nieces or nephews. We were there a longer amount of time due to this, for which again, I wasn’t complaining. I was a little concerned that some of the lunch time might get taken off my pay due to continuous comments about “break” and “off the clock,” jokes directed at the boyfriend. These were few, however there were many things mentioned throughout the day that made me uncomfortable by this time, I hadn’t given them much thought.

After lunch, it was back to work and the niceties of Tanya around her family and the constant cigarette smoke had worn off. It was back to short demands and sighs that I wasn’t doing something right or fast enough. I hadn’t exactly known what to do or how, but I figured that didn’t matter because I was about done with the day by this point.

When my father came in the lot, for which he was late and every passing minute felt like an hour, I was overly relieved. I had to stop myself from running to the truck to get him. He picked me up and we had to then follow Tanya to her house to get my payment, for I had asked for it now. She tried to pay me “the next time” a situation I wasn’t sure if it was going to happen.

“OK, here ya go.” As she hands me a $10 bill. I looked at her and I could feel my eyes well. I had labored an entire day and she gave me a $10 bill and claimed that was my payment in entirety. She had even taken off for “lunch” as she reported she was so kind to pay for to my dad. I was hurt but I wanted to leave. I wanted to sit in my emotions and no longer force this smile on my face. I was exhausted from stopping my face from the disagreement I had with this situation. I wanted to lash out and say “this is it,” however this wasn’t in me at the time and I wanted to go home and lick my wounds.

During the drive home I hadn’t wanted to tip my dad off that I was upset, but he could tell. Anyone could tell that I was upset because I didn’t hide it well. I was an open book and the amount of hurt I had for being lied to and stolen from was enough to callous me to my dad even. I was angry at her, her boyfriend, my dad, anybody. I had accumulated wealth in my head and that was now taken from me.

I had to go back a few more weeks for I had made some sort of promise that I had to keep. I dreaded each moment even more than the previous. At one point it started to rain and I was stuck in a pick up with Tanya’s boyfriend and his buddy as they smoke with the windows up. I remember having fear that I was going to get kidnapped. As these two men, whom I had worked with for 3 weeks sat on either side of me with shifty, nervous movements I sat in between them contemplating my kidnapping.

As I accepted that inevitable that they might have thought my father had money and that a ransom could get paid and they would no longer have to work at a junk yard on the weekends, a job many men their age would never want, I made my plan. My worry was turning into next moves. Should I fight now and kick my way out of the vehicle. I had ready tried to avoid the truck to no avil. I even denied it was raining to prevent myself from any uncomfortable situation.

“I’ll just stay here.” I said as I stood out in the rain.

“No, get in the truck.” Was their rebuttal.

They won. But I was let out of the truck.

My fears after our last engagement and the affirmed $10 a week payment, for I thought maybe the first was in error, caused me to not return. I was able to slip out of a couple of weeks only to receive the message that I was fired. My first job outside of the home and I was no longer employed.