Monthly Archives: August 2022

THE MASKED BANDIT

It’s early Spring, and I’ve recently planted all the vegetables that I had started in my greenhouse outside. I can’t tell you how much I looked forward to eating freshly picked vegetables, tomatoes, peppers, and herbs.

Every morning I walk outside filled with anticipation, loving every minute of the hard work, the heat, the rain, the weeding. And watching the bees slowly buzzing over the plants and landing on the flowers that have recently bloomed. I imagine the bees are in some sort of drunken stupor from the overwhelming array of smells as they hover and land so lightly upon the plants that surround them.

I take a deep breath. I feel slightly lightheaded. Even though I have gardened almost the entirety of my adult life, I still feel the same joy I felt the first time I saw a plant growing and peeking out from the earth that was merely a tiny seed ten days before.

The time flew by in what seemed moments, and I saw some of the watermelons growing larger by the day. I could almost taste their sweet nectar upon my lips. Every day that passed drew me closer to that moment when I could enjoy the fruits of my labor. And then the horror began.

One Saturday morning, I stepped outside on my screened-in porch, and I saw what appeared to be one of my watermelons in the middle of the yard. But how could that be? How in the world could that happen? This was the very watermelon that was so close to being ripe. It was huge. How could anything but a human being pick it up and carry it out into the middle of my yard? And then abandon it. What kind of warped individual would commit such a crime against nature, against me? Who, who would do it? I could not imagine.

We live in a small community with only about twenty homes. And my neighbors made a practice of keeping to themselves. They rarely even pass the time of day if they see you outside in your yard. I was lucky if they even waved. After six years, I only knew the names of a few of our neighbors.

I slipped my gardening boots on and ran out into the yard in my pajamas I hadn’t even put on my gardening clothes. I was in such a shocking state of mind I forgot I hadn’t gotten dressed yet. I felt as if I was looking at the remnants of a murder committed in my own backyard.

I ran through the wet grass. It had rained heavily the night before. And looked down at my fallen watermelon. And it had huge bites taken out of it. I could not comprehend why anyone would do such a thing. It was bad enough that he or she would steal from my garden. But, to then take bites out of it and then leave it to rot in the middle of my backyard was impossible to take in. I was baffled.

I felt such anger well up in my heart in mind. I felt my temples throbbing, and my face felt flushed. The only time I felt this angry was when I was in my last year of college, and my teacher told me that my latest story was the work of a person who had no clue how to write or had any creativity. He failed me for the semester, and I had to retake the course. And then one of my classmates told me that self-same teacher just had a story published in a magazine. And it was almost an exact copy of my story word for word.

This is how angry I felt today. Someone had taken one of my creations that I worked and sweated for and destroyed it, desecrated it. I silently promised myself that I would seek revenge on whoever was responsible for this crime against nature.

When I returned back to my house, I called up my best friend Beth and told her the whole story. She listened quietly without interrupting. And then she said, “.Elizabeth, try and calm down; you’re going to have a stroke if you don’t calm down. Try to put this in perspective. It was just a watermelon. I’m sure that you planted more than one. I know how much you love gardening and look; the fruits of your hard work are like children to you. But think about it, you were going to eat it. And there will be another melon to take its place.”

“What? Just another watermelon. How can you say that? I planned my garden all winter. I spent hours and days preparing the soil, planting the seeds, watching them, and watering them. “

“You’re right, Elizabeth, but what’s done is done. You just have moved forward. Try not to let this affect you so much. Try to move forward. Maybe you could put some kind of net over the garden to prevent further damage.”

“You’re right, Beth. I will have to find a protocol to prevent this from ever happening. I will set up traps all over my yard if need be.”

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IT’S A NEW DAY, IT’S A NEW DAWN

As I step out the front door, I put one foot in front of the other. I tell myself just to take one day at a time. I see Roger, my neighbor, in his front yard, picking up his newspaper sans pants again. God, no, not today. Please don’t let him see me, not today.

I rush towards my car, pushing the unlock button. Unlock, unlock, I scream inside my head. He is a nice enough old man but somewhat senile. Sometimes he forgets to put in his teeth, and then there are the days like today when he forgets to put on his pants. Roger goes commando, which is unfortunate for everyone who lives in the immediate neighborhood.

Luckily, he has forgotten to wear his glasses as well, so he doesn’t see me, and I make a clean getaway.  I‘m off to my first day at my new job. Never mind that this is the third first day of a new job that I have had to endure in the past five years. Each job is a step down from the job that preceded it. Not to mention a pay cut. Oh, I meant not to mention it, but I did. Whoops!

I keep reading and hearing on the radio that the economy is turning around, but I don’t see any evidence of that in my life or in the people I know. But there is no point in dwelling on it.

My new job is as a cashier at a car dealership. I have been working in the automobile sales business for thirty years. I started at the bottom as a secretary and worked myself up to vice-president of the new car sales department. I was the only female to reach that position within my company. The auto sales business, especially in a Japanese-owned company, is highly misogynistic. You know, the old boys club, the glass ceiling and all that.

When the economy took its downturn, the auto business went bust. I was the first to be laid off. Actually, I took an early retirement package. I really didn’t have a choice. It was early retirement or fired with no package. This included keeping my pension, one year of health insurance, and one year’s pay.

It took me one year to find another job.  You know something, and there aren’t a lot of vice president jobs for a sixty-something woman. My next job was manager of Internet sales job at one of the dealers I used to audit in my old job. He called me and offered me the position when he heard I had been laid off. I took a $ 60,000-a-year cut in pay, but I didn’t have much choice. No more unemployment left. No other job offers.

After a year there, I was laid off because I kept complaining to the owner that all the car salesmen started drinking after he left for the day. They weren’t the happy drunks you don’t mind being around. They were the other kind, the nasty drunks.

Laid off again and got another Internet manager position, which lasted six months. They decided I wasn’t bringing in enough leads, so they hired an outside company to take over my position.

And that brings you up to speed. I’m driving on the Roosevelt Expressway in the early morning rush hour to my new job as a cashier at another dealership. I hope I will be able to impress them with my years of experience and knowledge of the auto business. Moving quickly up the ladder of success until I once again reach the soaring heights of middle management.

Ah, I see the dealership is coming up on my right and making a sharp right turn. I almost missed the entrance. Unfortunately, someone else is making an equally sharp left turn out of the driveway, and just like that, two cars become one.

My airbag deploys, and I am hit with such force that it knocks the wind out of me. I hope I have not cracked my ribs or some other vital organ. I finally catch my breath, and I see a very furious-looking woman headed my way.

She is wearing a very grim smile on her face. Well, perhaps it’s more a grimace than a smile.

I reach for my cell in case I have to push 911. I look into my glove department for my insurance information. I roll down the window. She immediately starts screaming at me. “It’s your fault. You hit my car. I just bought it last year. Now, what am I going to do? You stupid… ” Well, you fill in the blanks.

I take a deep breath and wait until she runs out of steam and calms down. Finally, she says,” Well, this has turned out to be one of the worse days of my life. First, I get fired with no warning at all, and now you crash into my car and destroy it. No car, no job, what next?”

“I’m really sorry. This is my first day here, and I guess I am a bit nervous and wasn’t watching as carefully as I should have. Let me give you my information.”

“Really, you were starting here today. I didn’t know they were hiring anyone or that there were any openings. What position were you hired for?”

“The cashier position.”

“What the… that’s my job.”

She then lets out a string of expletives that would make a longshoremen blush. I quickly push the button to roll up my window and decide now would be the perfect time to push 911 before any blood is shed. My blood.

The woman is still ranting and raving and having a full-on tantrum when the cop arrives, and he tries to talk her down. She finally stops screaming but is still shooting me evil looks. Well, you know that expression if looks could kill? Well, it’s true if looks could kill, I would be lying here in a puddle of my own blood, riddled with bullet holes.

The cop talks to me and the lunatic, and everybody cools down. We exchange information, and she heads off on her merry way. Well, not merry, but you know what I mean.

I pull into the parking lot and look for employee parking. I see there is one spot left and pull in. As I walk into the dealership, two sales types come racing towards me, mistaking me for a customer. “Sorry, I’m not a customer. I’m the new cashier. Can you point me in the direction of human resources?”

“Yeah, sure, it right over there, but you’re late, and Z doesn’t like that. Z, that’s the owner, has kind of a bad temper, so try to stay on his good side, if you can find it.

So begins my first day at my new job.

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SUNSHINE, HAIRCUTS AND MANICURES

It was 1974, and I was living in Jupiter, Florida. I didn’t know anyone there other than my husband, Bob, and his family. In the past, I had worked as a dental assistant, and for a high-risk auto insurance company in New Jersey for several years. However, I had difficulty finding a job in Florida because companies had a policy that you had to have been a Florida resident for at least six months before they would hire you. And I had only lived there two months since moving from New Jersey.

Fortunately, Bob’s cousin, Margie, had worked at an insurance company B.D.Cole. Margie said I could use her as a reference. So after two interviews, I was hired to work as an assistant for Elaine Ayoub. Who had worked at that office for years and was nearing retirement age. Elaine was having difficulty keeping up with the workload and had made some mistakes. So, they hired me to assist her.

Colonnades Hotel add 1970’s.. I’m under the blanket.

I was told to go through her outgoing work every day and make sure it was in order. It was a challenging job since I wasn’t up to date on all the insurance laws in Florida. And they were different from New Jersey. Elaine didn’t seem aware that I lacked the pertinent information, and she didn’t attempt to teach me what I needed to know. She had a somewhat imposing personality, and I was young and slightly intimidated by her.

After working at B.D. Cole, for about six months, Bob and I got married. We took a three-day honeymoon in Miami. Where it rained, cats and dogs the entire time. The hotel room’s roof leaked, and the water leaked non-stop over our bed for three days. It was a honeymoon that I would never forget, that’s for sure. Bob lost his wallet somehow, and he had no clue where it was. When we returned to our apartment in Lake Park, we found it on the driveway.

We had adopted a puppy we named Ullyses a couple of months before we were married. And we had put him in a kennel for three days while we were on our honeymoon in Miami. When we picked him up from the kennel, we discovered that he was infested with fleas,  as was our apartment. After three days, the fleas were extremely hungry and bit us from top to bottom. It was not a great beginning. We had to use a flea bomb to kill all the fleas and treat Ulysses, our puppy, to kill all fleas on him.

The following day when I went back to work at B. D., Cole, I was called into the main office. I was informed that I was being laid off. The company was downsizing. And so, after three days of marriage, a wet honeymoon, and being attacked by fleas on our return. I was once again without a job.

I spent the next several weeks trying to find another job with no luck. And I decided that I would go to a hairdressing school. I found out there was a school in West Palm Beach. It was called The Florida Beauty Academy. Looking back on this decision, I can not imagine what made me think I would be a great hairdresser. I never had a talent for styling my hair, nor did I have any experience.

 I began my training to become a hairstylist. It was a small school, and there were only about thirty students attending that year. The students were primarily young people. But there were two adult students who I believed were in their mid-fifties.

They stuck together because they were the same age. But, I became friends with one of them. Her name was Maggie Wassenen. I used to visit her in her home and became friends with her entire family. Her husband was a mailman. And he would often talk about the people he met along his route delivering mail. One of the things that I remember the most about her house was that they had a tree in their backyard where they grew both oranges and lemons. I didn’t know about grafting trees back then, and I thought it was some kind of magic.

Unfortunately, halfway through the hairdressing course, Maggie’s friend, the other adult student in the class, committed suicide because her husband left her. And Maggie became depressed for the remainder of our time there. She didn’t talk to me often after that.

As it turned out, I had a natural talent for cutting hair and giving perms. I was able to roll a perm in less than ten minutes. I found I liked coloring hair as well. Most of our customers were older women that lived in the West Palm Beach area. And occasionally, we would cut the hair of homeless people in West Palm Beach. I enjoyed talking to these people since they offered a view of life that I had been unaware of up to this point in my life.

One of my teachers Mr. Diego, taught me how to cut hair. He was such a kind and supportive person. He had moved to Florida from Cuba. He often shared his early experiences with me about what it was like moving from his country of origin to Florida.

The one experience I recalled disliking the most was nearly all the students and the teachers smoked. And they smoked in the student’s break room. And unfortunately, it was the only place where the students could sit down, eat and take a break from standing all day. The smoke was so dense that you could barely see who was in the room.

Occasionally  I took a walk down the street from the school and go to Walgreens to get a soda or some snack or eat breakfast. There wasn’t any smoking allowed so I could breathe some fresh air for a little while. One morning a woman who frequented Walgreens came over and asked me if I was a  nurse since I was wearing a white uniform.

I said, “no, I’m a hairdressing student at the Florida Beauty Academy down the street.” People were friendly back then and thought nothing of starting a conversation with someone they didn’t know. I realized how much I enjoyed meeting and talking to people that I wouldn’t ordinarily speak to in the past. It helped me to become a more outgoing and open-minded person.

Of course, some experiences were not so pleasant. Some people who came in to get their hair done hadn’t washed their hair or taken a bath in a long, long time. I wasn’t gifted with a great sense of smell, and my fellow students knew that. And I would often get more than my share of people with, shall we say, “stronger body odor” than others. Sometimes, these poor people also had lice. And when that happened, the whole place would have to be fumigated. And I don’t even want to describe the condition of their feet when I did pedicures.

The first customer I gave a manicure to had unbelievably long nails that they curled under, and she wanted them to get new polish. I was so astounded by the length of her nails I just stood there and stared at her nails for a couple of minutes. And I said, “Holy Mackerel.” And she just laughed and laughed. I cleaned her nails and painted her nails bright red.

While attending Cosmetology School, I volunteered three afternoons a week with a family in Palm Beach, Florida, whose two children had Cystic Fibrosis, an inherited lung disorder. They were about ten and twelve years old. They lived on Ocean Boulevard in Palm Beach, directly across from the ocean. Their house was immense. They had a chauffeur and a limousine, a cook, and a maid. Their mother taught me how to do clapping therapy on their backs to help them breathe better. Children with this disease did not often live to adulthood since no treatment was available at that time.

When I finished the course, I found out that it was tough to find a job as a hairdresser unless you knew someone that owned a salon. Eventually, after several months of applying to every hair salon in the area, I got a job at the Colonnades Hotel on Singer Island. It was owned by John D. MacArthur, one of the wealthiest men in the United States at that time. He was married to Helen Hayes, a famous actress at one time.

I was hired to do facials on wealthy clients who stayed at the Colonnades. I also used a machine that was called Panthermal.  They would lie inside this machine with their head sticking out, and the machine would heat up a liquid, and the steam would flow over them from their toes to their necks. It was supposed to help them lose weight. But I have no idea of how it would work or if it worked. But people paid a lot of money to get the Panthermal Treatment. I was making an astounding $3.00 an hour plus tips, which was almost unheard of at that time.

And one of the most pleasant surprises was when my older friend, Maggie Wassenen, was hired to do massages at the Colonnades Health Center. It was owned by a wealthy couple, the Zimmermans.

I worked at the Colonnades for over a year, and then my husband, Bob, decided he wanted to attend Brooks Institute for Photography in Santa Barbara, California. And we were off on another exciting adventure.

I found a job at St. Vincent’s School in Santa Barbara, working with disabled and mentally disabled children as a houseparent. It was one of the best experiences of my life. And the most satisfying.

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Dear Write On Followers

I will be unable to post any stories on Facebook for the next four weeks. My next post will be on September 15th. Please feel free to go to my blog site and read some of my past stories that you might have missed.

Susan A. Culver

 

Did you ever get up on the wrong side of the bed? And you were just in a foul mood. Well, that’s how I woke up feeling today, yesterday, and every day for the past six years.

No, I’m not exaggerating. And the reason was I was sick of my current life. I needed a change, a significant change. I have no idea what I want to do or where I want to be. But I know for sure I need to do something different, or I’m going to go out of my freaking mind. https://susanaculver.com/home/

 

Susan A. Culver

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE GREEN EYED MONSTER

I admit I’m not an example of a perfect human being. I’m not without my flaws. I have a short fuse, and I’m a perfectionist. I never lie, not even to protect someone’s feelings. I can be blunt to the point of being rude at times. I am a busy person; I don’t have time to protect someone’s feelings.

On the other hand, I am also generous to a fault. I am the person who will give you a place to stay if you need one. I’ll give you money if you find yourself in a fix, even if it’s my last dollar. I will stand up for you when you need a friend. But don’t lie to me ever, or you will find my boot on your neck. Figuratively, of course. Don’t cross me. I will seek my revenge. Oh, I almost forgot I am a jealous person.

I was kind of a shy person in high school. I didn’t date. I was always afraid of rejection. I lacked confidence in myself. That is until I was accepted into all of the colleges I applied to in my senior year of high school. I hit the ball out of the park when I took my SAT tests. I got the highest score possible, 1,600. I have to admit even I was shocked. Although, to tell the truth, nobody but nobody prepared themselves more for the SAT test than I did. I studied night and day and didn’t go out on weekends or during the summer. I didn’t date. I didn’t have time for a social life.

And all my hard work was rewarded in Spades when I was accepted at all the colleges I applied to. And they were all top-notched schools. I have to admit I had felt a little bigger, and so did my ego. I knew that when my college career began, I was going to excel there as well. I didn’t have to get a job because I got a full ride for four years of college. And one of the benefits I hoped to enjoy was my pick of the most beautiful undergraduate women I met.

I looked forward to the first day I walked across the campus. And I couldn’t believe how many beautiful co-eds were there. I knew I still had to work and study to continue my success. I knew it wasn’t going to be handed to me. But, I made a promise to myself that I, Joseph P. Harding, would graduate at the top of his senior class walking hand in hand with the most beautiful female in my graduation class.

It wasn’t going to be easy because I knew I would be working and studying almost every minute of the day. When I wasn’t in class. I kept my eyes open at all times, searching for that perfect partner. And then, one day, it happened, I saw her sitting across the room. She had long, red hair and blue eyes the color of a cloudy sky. A killer smile and a laugh that garnered everyone’s attention. It was like music to my ears. I knew, just knew she was the one.

I had to find a way of getting to know her without seeming too obvious. And by the end of the class, a solution was handed to me. When the professor said, you are going to have a project that would have to be completed by mid-term, and we were required to have a pardner. Can the person sitting at the front of each aisle please come up and get these handouts for each person in your aisle? The handout will explain the project and its perimeters.”

And I thought, ah-ha, that’s it. I’ll ask her to be my partner. I would find out if she would be the perfect fit for me. I wanted a woman that was not only beautiful but intelligent, quick, talented, and interesting. And whose focus was on being as successful as I was. And who knew what her goals were, not just immediate goals, but long-term goals.

And then I heard the professor calling out my name and telling me my partner was Helena Cox. And then, she asked us to both stand up and introduce ourselves to our partners and the class. And low and behold, the future love of my life stood up, as did I. Helena stood up and said it in a clear, beautiful voice. “My name is Helena Cox. I’m happy to meet you all.”

And then I stood up and said, “Hello, my name is Joseph P. Harding. And it’s privileged to meet you, Helena. I look forward to working with you and getting to know you.” I heard a few snickers from some of my classmates after my comment. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so transparent. I would have to be less transparent in the future. My face got a little red. But I promised myself I would be more careful in the future. The professor said, “please make plans to meet after class and discuss your topic and divide the workload. I don’t want any one person to be doing all the work. Is that understood?”

And everyone mumbled, “yes, sir.”

The professor said, “what did you say? I can’t hear you.”

And we all yelled out, “yes, sir.”

As I was leaving class that day, I felt someone tug my sleeve, and I turned in that direction, somewhat annoyed. I didn’t want to be late for my next class. I said, “yes, what? I don’t have a lot of time.”

And I turned and saw that beautiful face looking at me with those eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to sound so rude. I just can’t stand being late. It starts the class off on the wrong foot, doesn’t it? I’m on my way to Introduction to Freshman Literature. Where are you going?”

“Oh, that’s funny. That’s my next class too. Do you mind if I walk with you?”

“Mind? No, not at all. Sorry for seeming so abrupt. Let’s go. We can discuss any ideas we have for our project.”

“Well, there’s the library on the left. Why don’t we stop in there and read over the handout? We still have about twenty minutes before the next class.”

“OK, but I don’t want to be late. Oh, sorry. I just hate being late.”

“It’s OK, I don’t like to be late, but it should only take a couple of minutes.”

So, we went into the library and took the two closest empty seats. And we scanned the hand-outs. Helena was a faster reader than I, and she said, “oh, I think I have an idea already. How about if we write the report from an observer’s point of view? As if they were there observing it firsthand. What do you think?”

“I think that is a great idea. How about exchanging emails and phone numbers? And then we can think about it overnight and then talk about it when you have a free period this week.”

“That’s a great idea, Helen. I have Wednesday, third period open. How about you?”

“Wow, that is really a coincidence, Joseph. I have that period open as well. It’s almost like fate wanted us to work together.” And I gazed into her eyes.

She looked at me and then looked away. “Well, I don’t know about that. but it does seem like good luck.”

“Everybody calls me Joe.”

“OK, Joe. I’ll see you then.”

The rest of the day, I had difficulty concentrating. My mind kept flashing back to Helen. I knew it wasn‘t a good idea to start focusing my attention on a girl I hardly knew. When I needed to keep my energy on school and moving forward. But there was something about her that drew me to her.

On Wednesday, Joe had trouble concentrating on any of his classes. He kept obsessing about meeting Helen at the library during the third period. The third-period bell finally rang, and Joe all but flew out of his chair and out the door to the library. He made a pit stop at the men’s laboratory to check his hair and use the bathroom.

When he arrived at the library, he peaked in the door to see if Helen had arrived.  He could see her sitting at a table in the back of the room. There were several people sitting there already, but there was still one empty seat. He had hoped that he could get some alone time with her. This was going to make it more difficult for him to ask her out.

Joe walks nonchalantly to the table. Then he notices the guy touch Helen’s arm. This immediately set off alarms in his head that he didn’t know what to do. His first impulse was to knock the guy’s hand off her arm. But he managed to get hold of himself at the last minute. Joe took a deep breath and then walk over to Helen and said, “hello Helen, do you still have time to talk to me about the project we have to work on together?

“Sure, by the way, this is my boyfriend, Charles. He is a year ahead of me. So, he has been showing me the ropes and all the professors. And he knows about all the great places to go in the area. I’m sure he would be willing to share the info with you.”

Joe’s jaw felt like it fell to the floor when she said, “boyfriend.” And he almost shouted, boyfriend, out loud. He was so relieved that he managed to control himself at the last second. What he did say was, “oh, you didn’t mention you had a boyfriend.”

Helen stared at him blankly for a moment and said, “well, there wasn’t any reason to. we are just working on a project together. We don’t even know each other. We just met in class the other day.”

“Oh, sure, of course. Sorry. Do you have time to discuss our project?”

“You know Joe; perhaps it might be better if you and I found other partners. I don’t think this is going to work out. I’m going to talk to the professor about it right now.” Then Helen leaned in and gave her boyfriend a kiss.

Joe’s face turned bright red, and he felt like he was going to explode. He abruptly turned away and walked out of the library. He decided he better go outside and take a walk until he calmed down. This was not the first time something like this had happened to him. He had a tendency to get carried away. And believing that girls liked him just because he liked them. And then he would get very angry when he realized they didn’t. And the one time he did have a “real” girlfriend, he didn’t trust her and would stalk her wherever she went.

Eventually, the parents of the girl made a police complaint about him. And he was forced to take counseling and wasn’t allowed to go near the girl again, or he would be arrested. He had been warned about this behavior, but he didn’t seem to have any control over his feelings. He felt overwhelming jealousy whenever he was attracted to someone and expected those feelings to be reciprocated, but they never were because he became so possessive.

Joe sat down on a bench, trying to calm down. He decided he just needed to give Helen more time, and she would come to care about him the same way he felt about her. He decided he was going to clandestinely follow her and then gradually bump into her once in a while until they became friends. And she would come to realize that she really did love him as much as he loved her. And she would dump her loser boyfriend. And then they would end up together forever. He just knew it.

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