Bucky

I always wind up surrounded by guys with names like Smitty or Bucky. I don't know why this is so. While in Memphis, I averaged a car wreck every six months and was tended to by Smitty, a jovial six foot tall tobacco chewer. Decked out in overalls and a baseball cap, he took a liking to me that was dampened only by the following convo:

"You go to church little man?"
"Ummmm.....no but I go to a synagogue if that makes you feel better."
"Nah. Go to church little man."

I declined and while we got on fine, I sensed a definite chill. The newest clone is Bucky, manager of the local computer repair shop. Since my screen is busted, I have been waiting for a replacement since mid-May. Various screen-related convos included:

"Is the screen ready?"
"Uhhh...I uhhh asked for the replacement but ordered the wrong part."
"Why?"
"Well my eyes are really bad and I can't read them little numbers."

"Is the screen ready?"
"Waiting for the delivery."
"Since when?"
"Why..ummm...last week."

"Is the screen ready."
"It will be. Totally."

It is moments like this- and there are many moments like this- when I consider salmon fishing in Alaska.

Oh and something educational is brewing as well, but this being an uber small town, I'll hold off on blogging it. I also have an interview next week for a Project Manager position. That's right. Being a Bossy Hermit. In Joisey no less.