Confrontation
I carried the container of Christmas decorations up the Smallville garage stairs, mindful as always of the loose tread on the second step from the top. I have daymares about stepping on that loose tread one day and having it flip on me, either tumbling me down the stairs ass over teakettle or dropping me straight through to be impaled on the tractor implements stored below.
I worry, yet I still haven’t taken five minutes to fix the tread. It’s on my list, though. My very long list.
My goals today were simple: lay out and paint some quarter round so I can start putting it down when the floor guys finish, and spend a few hours working on my woodshed. I looked forward to putting the purlins on the woodshed (and maybe even the roof, time and energy permitting), not so much to painting the quarter round. Over the last four months, it’s safe to say I’ve pretty much gotten painted out.
At the top of the stairs I turned and took the decorations over to the spot we’d picked for them earlier in the week. Out of habit I glanced out the southern window, up the road that ends across the street from our house. After all, it was just a bit after eight, time for my favorite walker to come wandering by on his daily constitutional.
Ambling down the road as if he hadn’t a care in the world, the walkin’ dude made his way slowly toward me.
I set down the decorations and watched him from the shadows. At the end of the road, he turned in the direction of the corner grocery, which would lead him directly past our house. I kept an eye on him until he was past the driveway, then tiptoed down the stairs to put the quarter round up on sawhorses. And like the great big klutzy goof I am, I managed to trip over my toolbox at the bottom of the stairs, making a godawful clatter that could probably have been heard down at the corner store.
I peeked out toward the street, looking for the walkin’ dude, wondering if I’d see him coming back my way. I saw nothing, which made me happy. I don’t like dealing with the walkin’ dude. Not that I’m scared of him, because I’m not, I just want him to mind his business while I mind mine. The world would be a much better place if more people adopted that philosophy, I think.
I grabbed the carpet cutter out of my toolbox and set about cutting the twine holding the quarter round strips in a tight bundle. The twine was wrapped so tightly I could only fit the tip of the carpet cutter under it, making for a tedious time.
“Hey, man! You ready for me to do some work?”
God. Fucking. Damn.
The walkin’ dude was coming down the driveway, hands in his jacket pockets, smiling. I set the carpet cutter down and stood.
“Hello,” I said.
“I’m ready to work! You got something for me to do today?”
“Nah,” I said, and pointed at the quarter round. “I’m just going to do a little painting.”
“I’m a good painter.”
“It’s just this quarter round. I can do that myself. I’m pretty sure I told you last time I might have some stuff for you to do in the spring.”
I cast an exaggerated glance out into the yard.
“It’s not spring yet,” I said.
And for the record, I’m not “pretty sure” I told him that. I’m positive.
“I know, man, but I need some work,” he said.
I debated with myself for a moment, trying to decide if I wanted to take the conversation where it needed to be taken. I’m a non-confrontational person by nature, but some people need confronting.
Some people. Like him.
“I’m sorry if you need money. I don’t have any work for you right now. I told you I’d find you when I had something I needed done. But…”
I took a deep breath.
“I talked to the police about you,” I said.
This was a total lie, through and through. I’m normally not one to lie, but I didn’t really want to say I asked the guy at the grocery store about you and he said you could act like a “good nigger”, but that you weren’t one.
I suspected that would not be well received.
“And they told me a few things,” I finished.
“Like what?” He raised his eyebrows.
“I think you know what they told me.”
This was a test, to see if he’d corroborate what the man down at the store told me. Give a walkin’ dude some rope, and let him tie the noose himself.
The walkin’ dude’s face fell. He tried to roll his eyes.
“They told you I used to go in stores and take stuff?” he asked.
I nodded.
“That was juvenile, man! I ain’t doin’ that no more!”
I just looked at him.
“The first time you came by here you wanted me to take you up to K-Mart,” I said, rather pointedly.
“I told you, that was to see my sister!”
He took a step toward me. For an instant, I thought the situation was about to escalate, thought I was going to have to draw my gun for the first time in my life, but all he did was take his hands out of his jacket pockets so he could wave them around for emphasis.
“Man, I could tell you things about the cops, too!” he said.
“The cops don’t keep bothering me for money,” I said, and high-fived myself in my head. “I don’t care about them.”
“I see the cops every day, man. They axe me how I’m doing, just like they do anybody else.”
I didn’t respond.
“I ain’t never took nothing from somebody, never broke into no houses. I respect your property, man! I just did that stuff when I was younger. I’ve changed!”
“That may be, but I have to tell you: I don’t feel comfortable having someone who likes to take things that don’t belong to him coming around here all the time. I’m not calling you a thief; I’m just telling you how I feel.”
Anger flitted across his face, and once again I wondered if the situation was about to get more serious.
“I’m tellin’ you, man, I ain’t like that now. I’m almost forty years old. That was juvenile!”
“I’ll tell you what. In the spring, if I have anything for you to do, I’ll find you. I see you walk by all the time, so it won’t be hard. Until then, please don’t come here.”
He put his hands in his pockets, hung his head, and turned to go. I picked up the carpet cutter.
“Thanks a lot, man,” he said as he walked up the driveway. Sarcasm dripped from his voice. “You really made my day.”
The feeling’s mutual, buddy. The feeling’s mutual.
Almost a whole shed now.
Awwww, poor walkin’ dude……. NOT!
I would be scared to death if he was always coming around my house. I’m a baby, so really thats not much of a stretch. Hopefully he gets it this time… although I doubt it.
YOU are extremely brave and I think you handled that very well. That sounds reasonably like a conclusion to the story - I hope, for your peace of mind, that it is. Seriously well done, though.
wow fred that is one impressive shed…..you are going to have some happy wood……heh
Good Job!!
Sorry you have to go through all that B.S. to stop some one from harrassing you all the time. I would have got the hint by now if I was that dude….Anyhooo…nice shed, do you know Miami/Dade hurricane code? Could I talk you into coming further south to build one for me? No?
Brrrr. As soon as I saw the title of today’s message…I just knew who it’d be about. My friend, you have some humongo cajones.
Kudos on thinking on your feet so quickly! I think that conversation might have done the trick.
You are awesome Fred. I just KNEW the walking man would be back and you handled him well.
We have a gate for our driveway, a lot of folks do up here in Northern California.
It’s worth the piece of mind to have to get out of your car/truck to open and close it as you and go. electric gates don’t cost THAT much as well.
The best way to put a gate in is to measure one car/truck length from the end of the driveway and put your gate there. That way you can pull into your “indented” driveway,off the busy road,and then lock and unlock your gate in safety.
As soon as I saw the title in the link I said outloud (to myself, of course), “Uh-oh, he’s back”. You handled it well, but I would have had to change my pants afterwards!
The shed is looking great!
Also,I love how your shed has a craftsman look to match your house and garage. I love me some craftsman style!
DAMN!!!!!!!!!!!!
I was just deciding to check in after a while away to see what was up with him…..Bastard!!!!
Geez, every interaction with this guy is sounding increasingly like the beginning of some action-thriller-hand-that-rocks-the-cradle-type movie. You’ve been way more patient than I would have been. I can’t stand people violating my personal space, no matter what their intentions. And that may sound harsh, but its just how I am. Im especially annoyed with any type of solicitor activity - again, no matter what their intention.
I guess I just have alot of experience with this type of behavior within my own family. They ask for help, you feel good providing it, they ask for more, you give them more, they keep asking, each time with a more entitled attitude. Some people are just leeches and it sounds like you keep burning the same one off your leg time and time again.
Come Spring, Id suddenly acquire a litter of strong, able-bodied nephews, and have no further use for outside labor.
Again, I know I sound very mean, but I have limited tolerance for people who take advantage.
As an occassoinal block watch participant, I think you handled that “walking dude” (read jerk ass) mucho mondo. I was wondering though, has he ever approached your daughter or wife? You’ve established boundries and I’m impressed. But, it wouldn’t hurt, I think, to let it be known to the local constabulary. Just my opinion–you rock!!!
Sammi
Good for you Fred but I fear this is not the end of the walkin dude. He now needs to prove to you that he has changed.
Fred, you are being too nice to him! You shouldn’t even give him false hope like that. I’m afraid he won’t give up so easily.
Okay, this is where you need a bad ass pit bull chained up in the yard barking like he’s going to rip the face off anyone who steps on your property. I couldn’t stand someone walking up to me like that. I guess that’s the sort of thing you have to put up with living in the country though it’s not something that happens in suburbia!
Question: Not regarding walking dude, just curious about this. I know you and Robyn have mentioned there’s a church near your Smallville place. Is it very close or distant? The reason I ask, my paternal grandparents lived near a church, and though they believed in “God” they didn’t attend services. Every Sunday though, out of “respect” for the church-goers, they never got out in the front yard or did any kind of labor (observing the Sabbath and all that stuff).
I’m just wondering if the church and/or church-goers present any kind of potential problem — or if you or Robyn have ever thought about that particular issue.
I just have one question.
Did you ever pay for the doughnuts you “borrowed”??
Cara: the church is far enough that they can’t hear whatever I’m doing once they’re inside. That’s good enough for me.
Charli: I tried, but they wouldn’t take my money.