Ladder Safety Training.

The next day came.

The alarm went off at six. I hit the snooze button eight times, got up, and showered. I was running behind. The morning seemed to be both dragging behind me like a corpse and pulling me harder than my shoulders could bear. It was a total state of displacement. Once dressed, I found my way to the car, then to the gas station, to the coffee, to the interstate, and somewhere along there I began to wake up.

Michael had sent me a message the night before about a show coming up. He wanted to rehearse. I had no reason not to, besides already feeling drained. I loved rehearsing, playing, the whole bit. I loved being in a band, and I loved our band. I just didn't want to drive an hour home to drive a half hour back in the same direction, to play until two in the morning, to get up at six. I felt like an adult, in the crawling, miserable sense, after only one day of classroom training. I began to wonder if I was miserable, or a pussy. Funny, the thoughts thought so early in the day.

By the time I got to work, I was nearly fully awake. The caffeine had kicked in a few minutes prior, and I felt a little rejuvenated. Maybe I just wasn't a morning person. Maybe every morning I would be miserable and hate my job, and an hour later, I'd feel better. I tried to focus on that. I'm fine, I thought. This is for the best. It will solve our money issues. It will make Marie happy. I focused on that, and felt a little better.

I was on time. It surprised me. In my daze, I must have sped a little. Made up twenty minutes on an hour drive...

I went into the building, past Tits and the Awful Face and down the hall toward the classroom. The door was open, but the light was off. I sat down at my spot and waited in the dark.

The world is better in the dark, I thought. How has some wandering Lestat not found me by now? He better get a move on, I'll be old and fat before long. I haven't been to the gym in month. I don't eat anything. Does it even out? Why have I been slacking? I haven't written anything in a week. I haven't recorded any new music. Why am I such a layabout? I need fresh air. Excitement. I need a massive change for the good. I need to wake up excited to see what the day holds. I need to not work here. This is a death sentence. I can feel it in my bones. In my lungs, I am drowning already. I am drowning drowning drowning...

I am blinded as the lights burst on and Shawn lumbers through the door.

"Just hangin' out in the dark, huh bro?"

I pretended like I had been sleeping. I yawned a fake yawn. Stretched a fake stretch. "Just trying to catch a few extra minutes before the day."

"Just make sure you wake up soon. Ladder safety training today."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah bro. Climbin' the forty-footers outside onto the roof. Gotta be awake for that. Fuckers bend the higher you go. Right around thirty-five feet you're basically climbing straight up. Bro, it's a trip."

"Wonderful." I opened my book and pretended to read.

A few of the guys trickled in, and at the last minute, the rest came.

The class started out with us filling out our tax forms, our direct deposit, all of that. For the first time in my life I signed up for direct deposit. It was the first time I had had a job and a bank account simultaneously. It was a little exciting.

After that, we went outside in a shuffling awkward group. The hallway beyond the classroom was a meandering tunnel walled by plywood, fake wood paneling, sheet rock, and sheets of plastic, winding through two offices, the warehouse, and eventually a bathroom, where we had to wait until it was empty before we could pass through it. I held my breath. With muffled commentary, the others validated that.

The sky was grey outside. The air muggy. Some of the veterans of the job were outside standing around and smoking. I wondered why they weren't out on runs. Everyone told us we'd be constantly busy. From black morning sky to black night sky. I decided I didn't care, and shifted my attention to Shawn, standing in front of a beaten work van.

"Everyone here?" He asked.

We looked around at each other, not saying anything.

"Good. Now, behind me is one of the vans you guys are going to end up getting. On the roof, you'll see two ladders. A twenty-eight footer, and a forty footer. Nine times out of ten, you'll be using the twenty eight. But, once in a while, you'll have to get the forty out. So, this morning, we're going to learn how to properly remove the forty footers, set them up, climb them,and replace them. We assume if you can take care of the forty footers, you can take care of the twenty eights. But," he said, smiling, "we have had some fucking idiots in the past that tried to use the forty's for every job because we haven't shown them how to use the twenty-eights."

Some of the guys laughed at that. I thought it was a dick thing to say and that I was surrounded by dicks. I was bored.

"Okay, so, who wants to go first?"

We all stood around looking at each other.

"Come on guys. You are all going to have to do it."

We were ready to challenge that.

"Fine. I'll pick somebody. James. Front and center."

Of fucking course it was me. I inhaled and walked forward through the group. I wanted to fight the shaggy haired fuck. I got up to the van and stood there.

"Take the ladder down," Shawn said.

I looked up at it. it had a locking mechanism on one end that looked to just be a simple pull of a lever. The other end had a chain with a lock on it.

"Are you going to take the lock off of it?" I asked.

Shawn looked behind him and saw the lock. "Oh, shit. Fucking guys. I told them to take that off. Hold on, I have to go get the keys." He disappeared through the group and back inside. I doubted he told anyone anything.

Standing there in front of the van, in front of the group, I suddenly found myself wondering what the hell to do with my hands, how to stand nonchalantly, and where to focus my attention. I walked over to the smokers picnic table and sat down. Shawn came back out as soon as I did with a set of keys in his hand. He walked past me, and patted my shoulder somewhere between a slap and a come-on. I wondered how many hammer blows he could sustain.

I followed him over to the van and watched him unlock the chained end of the ladder.

"Will we get keys for the chains?" someone asked.

"Yes. They'll be on the keyring," Shawn said.

I wondered if they turned anyone down for this job. Then I realized I might be a total asshole.

"All right," Shawn said. "She's all yours James."

I pulled the lever down, and it stuck. Shawn looked at me and offered no help besides a raised eyebrow. "Well?" I asked.

"Well what?"

"It's stuck. Is there a trick? Do I have to wish the damned thing open?"

He walked over, yanked a little harder on it, and it popped open. "Put some effort into it."

I was ready to leave. There was a good chance that I'd be arrested before lunch. I finished the unlocking, and lifted the ass of the ladder up over the brace, and slowly pushed and slid it down the side of the truck. It was fucking heavy and three vans high. After some grunts and shoving, I got it upright against the van. A sweat had broken on my forehead. Where was my beach? It seemed a lifetime ago.

"All right," Shawn said, "Now, grab the rung by your hip, and lift it onto your shoulder."

I grabbed the rung, and lifted. Before I knew it, the weight of the bastard had shifted and I was toppling backward. I tried to catch my balance and swung the fucking ladder god knows where.

"Jesus fuck!" Someone yelled.

"James! Drop it!" Shawn said.

Without looking, I let it go. It crashed onto the pavement, thundering and screaming.

"What an idiot."

"Christ, fucking kill someone..."

They all talked. Looked at me. The argument to flee or fight sprang to life in my chest. Someone was going to get fucking hit, or I was going home.

"What?" I asked one of the guys. Not small, but not one of the brutish fucks either.

People quieted.

"What?" He asked, looking startled.

"What did you say?" I walked up to him.

"Okay guys, enough. You're at work," Shawn said.

"I didn't say anything man," the guy said to me.

"I think you fucking did."

"Enough. One more word, and you're both done here," Shawn said.

I stood staring at the guy.

"James. Enough."

I walked over and sat at the picnic table. No one spoke, but they were all saying something. I felt a little better.

Shawn picked up the ladder. "Why don't we have someone else give it a shot?"

Someone else went, and I watched. They all went, struggling with the massive orange cunt, and no one spoke to me. Shawn didn't ask me too go again.

The rest of the day went smoother. We went inside. Pizza was delivered to us. I ate it, and read while all of the other cavemen beat their chests and talked sports. It's not that I thought I was better than any of them, just that I was a different type of person. They were cut out for this work. I heavily doubted I was. I was both threatened, and a little jealous. I had something to prove in this group. Reading in the corner wasn't going to do it. Doodling caricatures in my book wasn't. I wanted to be the fucking best of them. I wanted to make them all feel threatened by me. Jealous of me. I didn't think I was better than them. I fucking knew I was, and I was going to prove it.