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On the way to the job site
...I ran into one of the neighborhood characters. We'll call him "Jack" because that's his name.
"'Mornin', Jack!" I greeted him. "Headed into work, too?"
"Naw, Pete," he said. "Just gettin' back from the bar."
"It's Rod. Have a good sleep."
I mean to, Pete! Thanks a lot, Baby. You goin' to work."
"Yep. That's what I do. And it's Rod."
"Mebbe you'll want a beer later, Baby."
"Maybe."
"Good. I'll drop by and see what ya'll is doin'. Later, Pete."
"Rod, dammit!"
"No, my name is Jack."
I try not to think of New Orleans (Nawlins) as a town of vultures, but that is what it is. Jack was hoping that when I get off work I'll buy a six-pack and he can drop by my place on Dauphine and cadge a beer or two, some smokes off of me. I've gotten used to that being the way things are in Nawlins. Everybody mooching, every-damned-body on the take.
On the way to the job site, where I am being a painter this week
...I bumped into Chris, the foreman at my old job.
"Hey, Rod, how ya' doin'?"
"Allright."
"You got another smoke you can spare?"
"Sure, Dude. How are things going over at your job?"
"Dragon's gone. I had to cut the muhfuh loose. He was smokin' too much crack. I had to wail on him the other night."
"No lie?"
"Yeah. You were right about him. man. He's lazy as hell. Any chance you could come back and work for us again? Everybody misses you. You have a work ethic, man. All the guys want you back.
"You know the paychecks are good. You're welcome to come back whenever you want."
"Well, I'm workin' for Jim right now, Dude. I can't just pick up and leave."
"I understand, Brah. That's okay. Just so you know you're welcome... Hey, listen. Can I get another smoke off of you? If you don't mind."
"Sure. Here, take a couple."
"Thanks, Brah."
It seems like it goes on like this all day. As soon as I leave the job site, I have to run the gauntlet again. This is swampland and there are leeches everywhere. Thank God I'm so broke that they know better than to ask for money, too. Half my lunch sandwich I don't mind giving way. I'm not sure why I buy cigarettes anymore, since I can't make my way through a single pack without giving half of it out. By the time I clock out and go home, I need a beer. I mean I REALLY NEED IT.
If I walk up to Robért's on St. Claude, I can get a six pack of Busch beer for three dollars and change. Of course, I have to calculate in that my roomates will drink two thirds of it. That's the way things are. Everyone, in one way or the other, is on the take. Lately, it seems I've been buying all the beer. That should change, but I don't know when.
Maybe I need to start cadging cigarettes myself.
It's 7:55 a.m. and I'm approaching the job site, the house I am working on for my new landlord so he can rent it out.
I pass the house of my friend Nick, who has been out drinking with my roommate Matt until 7:00 this morning. (Many bars here are open 24/7 and the people in this city take advantage of that. That and that there is no "Open Container" law. People get "drinks on wheels" as they float from one bar to another, or simply float home.) Matt was coming home as I was getting ready for work. I have this bad problem of needing to be at work on time.
Nick has fallen backwards down his stairway carrying his bike to his apartment. But he is okay. You're loose when you're loaded.
"You okay, Nick?"
"Yeah, I'm all right," he replies in his clipped "Beavis" voice. He always reminds me of Beavis from that animated show, "Beavis and Butthead." It make me laugh inside.
I get to the job site, the house I am working on this week, and wait for my boss, the landlord, to show up. He arrives at 8:45, though we have agreed that I should report to work at 8:00 a.m. I have been sitting on the stoop of the place smoking cigarettes and hoping I shall get in enough hours this week to pay my bills.
Just another typical week in the semi-tropical version of Port-Au-Prince and Patterson, New Jersey.
I am gaining a reputation for being too hard-headed about work.
I work construction pick-up jobs (roofer, laborer, painter) here in New Orleans because that's the only way I can eat and keep a roof over my head --- and maybe, just maybe, keep publishing this Web site.
This week's Poll: Most of my labors are for ...? 
WEB SITE PICK OF THE WEEK: Let's move beyond the trauma by laughing at the idiots. You can do this at PoliceHumor. Try it.
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