Saturday, June 18, 2005

Willy, Part 2

The bike ride to work was fantastic.

Now that 18 hours had passed the ordeal was nearly over. The only thing left was to work a heavy night of freight with half the normal crew.

Willy called work 10 minutes before shift start. From hearing about the conversation 2nd hand, I could only roll my eyes and think "how typical of Willy".

"I'm not coming in tonight. My ride didn't pick me up (my fault again?) and by the time I get there I'll be late. So I guess I quit."

There was some back and forth to it between Willy and the person he talked to. Mostly unimportant.

Funny thing about co-workers. We talk about that days most interesting happenings as we work. So a lot of the other stories concerning Willy and others came out, particularly stories surrounding the previous nights events.

Aparently after exiting the vehicle yesterday after the initial blow-up, Willy joined another co-worker enjoying his break. That co-worker asked what we (myself and a third co-worker) were still doing in my vehicle. "Talking about me," says Willy.

Willy also said to the co-worker that "It's official. This is probably going to be my last night". However, later that morning (in the previous post), Willy told me he'd be ready for work if I were to come by to pick him up.

Willy's not the type to want attention. I wonder why he said that? Of course, he says a lot of shit that seems like he's begging for attention... "There's only one person I can trust in this world, and when they're gone, I don't know what I'm going to do. I've lived 27 years and haven't found anything worth sticking around for". Is that a suicide letter? Or is that Willy's way of baiting a host (a leech reference) to take pity on him?

The supervisor also called him back last night after he quit to give him a chance to take the weekend to perhaps find an alternative means of transportation and to retract his resignation. No dice. Willy doesn't want it so Willy puts no effort into it.

Poor Willy. He likes fast food Mexican over any other nationality of fast food... And the closest restaurant that fits that description is a Taco Bell, probably within walking distance of his house.

Twenty bucks says he ends up there. Fourty bucks says I won't eat there anymore.

I'm not ragging on his mother at all, but how does a person end up like that? I'm suprised he even gets out of bed since that would require opening ones eyes... And for him, what's the point? There's nothing here for you... Why even get out of bed?

You've lived a whole 27 years. You've experienced nothing other than minimum wage jobs, your father being killed by police, the business-end of molestation from a family member, and girl after girl shunning you (not that there's been many attempts by you to try to attract their attention).

Most people by that age have found something they like. Perhaps it's in the form of a hobby, or person, but I guess that's what happens when you a handed the shit-end of the stick of life. What's worse is that it seems every time he goes to reach for the stick of like, he gets more shit on himself.

I used to feel sorry for him. But he's used up all my sympathy and patience. I still understand he probably has it harder than the next guy (nothing that can't be overcome), but that feeling toward him stops at the equivalent of a text-book sample. I'm not involved with it (anymore), so it doesn't effect me.

Good luck with life, Willy. Perhaps if you lowered your expectations, you'd be a happier person. Life is not going to treat you with the respect you think you deserve. This is a democracy. We don't do Kings anymore.

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