Thrifty Contruction Workers

My boss Wayne didn't receive the nickname Wayniac because of an affiliation with Warner Brothers. He walks faster than anyone, talks faster, and even eats faster. Once at a twelve person business dinner, he woofed down his fillet mignon in four bites before the last person was served.

I've worked for Wayne for six years? Eight? It's been a while. In the beginning he wasn't an ideal boss. Decision making wasn't his strong point, but through a relentless on task approach, brought on by fail-proof organization skills, he has become one of the better bosses I've had. That said, we've never encountered conflict because he lacks a pair. I won't say I get away with a lot, because I do my job well. But the fact that I come in anywhere from fifteen to forty-five minutes late each day for the last five years without a peep, speaks volumes. Perhaps my seniority affords me perpetual artistic-type tardiness.

As co-workers become aware of the possibilities of the graphics department as it pertains to their job, they inevitably become aware of personal applications. On the clock I've made children's party decorations, birthday party invites, Christmas cards, and printed photos from hedonism. Yesterday, for the first time ever, Wayne asked me to make him a sign.

Wayne makes more money than me. He should, he's my boss. With this money he's purchased a house, out in the suburbs, closer to Canada than Chicago. Being new construction, every detail was obsessed over. Certain details weren't perfect so he's had the builder fix them over and over. With another round of fixes due, he's worried about the workers getting his perfect carpet dirty.

Keeping financial secrets is the fashion. I'm wary of sharing too much lest you perform some backward math and figure what I'm worth. While I'm not a millionaire, talking money is ugly. When the real estate bubble burst, Wayne's home lost ten percent of it's worth. In the same conversation he told me he lost forty-thousand. One simple math problem later, I know how much he paid and lost. He's potentially going to lose more if the builder sells cheaper houses in the hard to sell empty lots. That's why Wayne is hosting a community meeting concerning the class action law-suit in his back yard and again is worried about his carpet.

Being such a community leader comes with responsibilities. So when talk of a neighborhood garage sale came up, Wayne knew who could make the signs.

If I leave this job, in the manner and time frame I hope to, I will submit my resignation directly to Wayne. Since I probably won't be replaced, due to the record industry taking a hard nose dive into the shitter, it gives me no pleasure to think how this will strand Wayne without resources to get his job done. The pleasure I am afforded comes from a change of scenery, replacing one dream job with another, and not dying in this box of a condo. Still, I giggle slightly as I imagine a cold sweat on Wayne's departure pondering brow.