I Can See Clearly Now

I worked for a guy named Russell in Memphis, years ago. He was wrapped really tight and that is never a good way for a boss to be. This was one of the many times when I was between commercial painting gigs, which I decidedly preferred for work. He was pretty good at getting work though and that meant the odds were decent that I would get paid and not have to react badly towards him in the event that that didn't happen. Because he was so angst driven, he made poor decisions. On my first house with him (my only? I'm not sure) he was getting bullied by a family of three generations of carpenters who clearly were running the job, if not just running him. The carpenters were alright really. I rather admired that a grandfather, son and son were working together. And they did good work. They were fine to me, just hard on Russell and his lead man, a guy whose name I don't recall even though I would work with him a couple years later for another crazy guy and he would later have no recollection of me. He was an odd guy, an apparently former crackhead, who wore pancake make-up, evidently because he had Lupus. The carpenter family rode him pretty hard for being the whitest white boy they had ever seen, and possibly being gay. 

It was a nice house and one of it's features was 9' solid oak doors. The Carpenter family was miffed that Russell- who had wanted to spray the doors before they were hung- had not done that yet. I understood that. He agreed that the carpenters should go ahead and hang the doors so as to stay on their schedule. But he also agreed that we the painters would then take the doors back down and then we would spray them and re-hang them ourselves. I did not agree with that. This was stupid. Essentially, we were hanging the doors ourselves. That's not in our job description as painters. The carpenters were OK with that, though I believe they knew it was dumb. So, they hung the doors and we almost immediately unhung them. Crazy. But their obligation was to hang the doors and whatever happened after that was not their problem.I got along well with the Carpenters. I think they knew that I knew what I was doing and respected that. I would have gone all Clint Eastwood on them and told them to "Hang 'em High". Tape the hinges, protect the walls etc. from over-spray and get on with it. I've painted a million doors and most were hung and I was well used to that. It's what we called "the BDE". Big Door Energy.  

Anyway, I wasn't with Russell long. On another job he had noticed some pinholes- in a door-that I had failed to spot and fill. He had also noticed that, I was getting older, I had taken to looking over some of my work with the readers I was using at the time. This was seen as a weakness by many painters. A defect in my humanity. One that Russell demanded that I correct. He told me that unless I got prescription eyeglasses that weekend, I should not bother coming to work on Monday. Well, I already wasn't coming to work on Monday because on that Friday, I had just barely been paid. He had written out a check for me and then realized he was out of checks for the other two guys. This might have been legit. I don't know. Like I said, he was wrapped pretty tight. He was disorganized and honestly could have overlooked restocking his checks. He asked me if I would give half my check to the maniac kid that I haven't mentioned yet, and we could sort it out on Monday. Well, I had already decided I was done with his bullshit and would not be returning Monday. Plus, I didn't like the maniac kid either. Fuck him. He lived at home with his mom and he played country music at full fucking volume and extra full bass in his truck. I am not all about that bass. (Had to ride with him one day) And the maniac kid was something like a 7th degree black belt and I figured it would be better justice for Russell's foolishness if he owed the maniac money rather than me. I could hurt him, but this kid could kill him. So, I declined that solution.

I had my little boy that weekend. We went to the Oak Court Mall to toy shop because I figured he ought to get something nice out of having to sit in the optometrist store with daddy. Now, why did I do that when there was no way I was going to succumb to Russell's demands? Well, I was about 45 at the time and he was not the first person to tell me I should get glasses. I was curious. I got an exam. The technician (who had graduated from The Southern College of Optometry in town- which I had painted!) told me that he could write me a prescription, but I didn't need eyeglasses, just less-strong readers. I admired his straightforwardness. 

Now, could I have explained to Russell that a trained optometrist disagreed with him about my need for glasses? No. But that might have been fun. 

Come Monday morning, Russell called me. "Did you get prescription glasses over the weekend???!" he asked sternly. I said, no. "Then I guess you won't be working today!!" Well, I replied, that explains why I'm still in my boxers and playing Xbox! 

He was pissed. I think he was mostly pissed that I defied him. A lot of contractors get full of themselves and fancy themselves as powerful businessmen. Russell was just a guy that could paint and get work was all. I made sure to tell him that I had decided to quit that Friday after the pay fiasco. The trip to the optometrist was for my own curiosity. Twenty-some years later when I retired, I did get glasses. I couldn't tell you what the prescription is, but it's not much more than the readers I have around here. I only wear them for the internet and reading stuff. I DO need them now though. That's my call. 

**OH! I forgot to mention that Russell, like me, had been a bartender in his past! He had worked at a titty bar where his three sisters were dancers. He wasn't kidding. Neither am I.