Page 71 - WTP Vol. X #7

“A lot of older people from town come here. We all know them. It’s hard for them to have to walk back and forth twice.”
He stared up at me for a second, figuring how to deal with me.
“Well... we just don’t do things that way, Glenn. Even people you know have to pay first.”
It went on like that all day. No policy could be
the best spot for him: people come by, and if they want, they help him out a little.”
“Well, he can’t stand on our property.”
I hated the way he said that: our property.
“He’s been standing there for three years,” I said.
He straightened his corduroy blazer; Paul didn’t have to wear the shirt.
“Glenn, this isn’t a local mom-and-pop store anymore. We’ve got rules, and if our people don’t follow those rules, then our standards slip. You represent GasCo, and only GasCo employees can be on this property; got it?”
I just stared at him until he got uncomfortable and turned his attention to something else. I got it, all right. I got how it was going to be if he had his way.
Maybe that wasn’t the last straw, but it was a straw worth fighting over. He didn’t have to tell Tony to get out because some giant corporation was worried it would look bad if a guy who had nothing asked for change in the only spot he could get enough change to survive which happened to be on property that was theirs because they were rich and the rest of us were not. You have to put your foot down early or these guys will walk all over you, and I’m not a guy who wants to be walked over.
So I offered Tony a job at GasCo. ~
At first he didn’t want to do it. Even Tony had enough sense to not want to work for GasCo.
(continued on next page)
"I
work his first car. "
smiled; the kid had
no idea how to
amended. I had Patty help me wash the shirt to make sure it didn’t shrink, since I knew I’d have to wear it again the next day, and every day after that.
~
When I got in the next morning, Tony was showing the Brooker kid how to work the air machine. Every minute or so the kid would look back at him as he pumped air, and Tony would say, “Nah, that’s not enough.”
I smiled; the kid had no idea how to work his first car. His old man was a professor at the college, so he’d probably taught him nothing about how it worked. Paul was already inside waiting for me.
“Do you let that homeless man panhandle in the parking lot?”
“Excuse me?”
“I asked him what he’s doing here, and he says you and he have an agreement.”
“That’s Tony; everybody knows him. He’s not hurting anybody.”
“Well, we can’t allow begging in our parking lot.”
I looked outside. Tony was standing next to the air and water machine, like always, just keeping to himself, shuffling his feet back and forth.
“He’s not begging. That’s just where he hangs out. It’s
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