Let Jeff Tweedy Lull Me.

I found a Taco Bell and ate. A girl behind the counter kept glancing at me. I finished my meal and left. It had started raining while I was inside. With nothing else to do in a town I wasn't all too familiar with, I just drove back to the building and sat in the car reading Bukowski and picking wet clumps of soft taco shells out of my teeth with my tongue. The rain spattered against the windshield, a gentle tapping scoring the scenes of fist fights, boils, and lusting. I always enjoyed reading in the rain.

Soon, my time was up, and I went back to the makeshift classroom. Shawn and a couple of the guys were watching some sports news show. I never cared much about sports, and kept reading while the clock burned up the last couple of minutes. The guys came back in a pack. A cigarette pack. Stinking and laughing and feeling better than I had all fucking day. I sometimes thought that quitting smoking was one of the stupidest things I have ever done.

Shawn got back to droning, and I got back to day dreaming about sand and wine and Marie and skin. I doodled faces in my book with thought bubbles filled with nonsense truisms like 'I wish things were better' and 'Someday, I'll die'). My phone vibrated. I slipped it out of my pocket.

It was Marie. "Sorry. Couldn't find my phone. You have to buy more shit?"

I texted back. "Yeah."

"Christ, this job is costing us a fortune."

She was right. The boots and work pants cost almost a hundred dollars, and as far as I knew (though I am no expert), tools weren't fucking cheap. I sighed.

I went back to phasing in and out of listening to Shawn and his bro-shit. He was going over cable television, it's origins, modern uses, and future. I had been a television salesmen for a few years when I was younger, and later almost finished a degree in broadcasting. All of this was old hat to me, and goddamned boring. I tried not to nod off.

"Anyone here know what kind of cable we use in our system?" Shawn asked.

"Television?" Some fucking moron said across the room.

"Television cable? No. I mean the type of cable."

I looked around. I knew the answer. Even without my background I would have known it. Everyone should in this day and age. I didn't answer. I didn't want to be that guy. Shawn must have seen me looking though, because he locked eyes onto me.

"James?"

I looked at him, the fucker. "Coaxial."

"Right. It's coaxial. James, do you know what grade we use?"

"I don't know." I did know. Probably RG-6. Maybe RG-59. Different gauges, same function. I just wanted to sit in the back and absorb new information, if there was ever going to be any.

"We use RG-6, mostly..." He went on about the benefits of RG-6 cable and something about never using staples and I drew a picture of him saying "I don't matter at all, bro." The clock ground away, second...into...second, I wondered if its batteries were failing.

Marie and I texted back and forth. I tried to get her to send me nudes, but she wouldn't.

"Our system has proven to be..." Shawn went on.

I fell asleep and was awoken some time later by the guy sitting next to me.

"Hey wake up man. Time to go."

I looked around. He seemed to be the only one who had noticed I was out. Everyone was closing their books, mumbling to each other about how fucking excited they were to have such a great job. What an opportunity it was.

I got up, closed my book, and walked out. The building was empty, and I checked my phone to see what time it was. It was a quarter after six. I also had three new messages, all from Marie.

"Hey, when are you coming home?"

"It's five. Where are you?"

"James? Are you okay? Please call me."

She worried too much. I texted back. "Sorry. Fell asleep. We just got done. Be home soon."

I left the building, went out to the parking lot, and got into the car. It smelled like coffee. I turned it over, backed out, and left. I never wanted to come back. Six weeks of training? It seemed ungodly. Maybe the in-the-field days would be better.

I turned the CD player on and let Jeff Tweedy lull me as I faded in and out of consciousness down the interstate.