the rix mix

I was outside Dunkin' Donuts about 10 pm nursing a small coffee, basically girl-watching (better than sitting in a bright diner waitress watching). A man rode up on a small, older bike & immediately started talking to me. He was on his way home from work at the Iselin McDonald's on St. George Ave. Maybe about my age, deeply tanned, healthy but for teeth. Reminded me of my brother Joe in better days. The man rented a room - a draped off living room - nearby for $350 a month, small house shared with two others, another man from McDonald's & a woman who worked retail at Macy's. Every day year 'round for 5 years he's commuted to McDonald's by bike. Started there at minimum wage, now earns $7 an hour. Worked at Rutgers for many years but was "terminated" for being late too often, while he was vacation at Seaside Heights, so he wasn't able to appeal through the Union. He blamed his tardiness on the long commute & the installation of an employee time clock. & had also worked for the post office. The man stammered more from a struggle to organize sentences than as a speech impediment. He seemed of average intelligence, though only a high school education. & he was blabbing on breathlessly to a total stranger, me. As I may now be blabbing to you. He mentioned other people he knew who had worked at McDonald's & now were waiting tables at Applebees, making "$200 a night in tips," & people he knew who had died of cirrosis whose stomachs had bloated out like "three bowling balls were inside." He talked about riding his bike all over the area, to Sears in Roselle then to Target in Linden just yesterday. Now picking up a coffee, perhaps to drink then or reheat in the morning. In all his talk, which demonstrated an ability to observe, was no indication of having observed the true trajectory of his own life & emotions, of what brought him down to a $7 an hour "career" job in a fast food place (plus occasional landscape work off-the-books); what brought him down & kept him there, despite a work ethic, apparent sobriety (in the present if not the past), toughing it out on that bike. or why working at McDonalds under those conditions should be any easier a job to hold than Rutgers or the postal service, assuming he had supervision. Because even this evasiveness in oneself can be observable by oneself, as insight, though one might evade the cause or evade dealing witb it.

He was a lonely man, with only acquaintances - not friends - who craved human companionship at least on that level he was willing to accept it. Almost certainly, his supervisor's main complaint about him is that he talks too much, but in the retail service world of unreliable teenage employees & constant turnover, an older guy who shows up when he's scheduled is worth keeping, if not worth paying more. Although the guy could probably get more if he shopped his body & time around other desperate stores & fast burger places. Just on my observation, I wouldn't put him in charge of the small Dunkin Donuts outpost at the Shell Station. & could he even handle deli sandwiches at Quick Chek by himself? I wonder what he's like when he's in a down cycle? Or maybe he was headed into one on this lonely Sunday night, & I delayed the crash for him.

America is filled with people like him. Some have it together enough to run a cash register & lottery machine, provided the line doesn't get too long. Some are thoughtful readers faking supervisory ambitions at Barnes & Noble. Some can take nominal charge of the ladies shoe aisles at Walmart. Some just unload trucks & sweep up around the place. I oversaw an entire book department in an arts supply store for the pittance I was willing to accept, selling useful products, rather than having to work inside the Mall or wear a Wendy's uniform with a semi-hysterical assistant manager haranguing me. The subculture of the depressed ride bikes & buses & drive old cars with noisy fanbelts. The worried looking young woman who drove up in the rattling old little Ford, just before I rode home, left it running, ran inside wearing beat up sweatpants & a teeshirt to buy a $5 pack of Newport Lights, I bet she's one of us, too.