Whitewater
General
note I hired this guy, we called him Elevator. Probably never knew his real name...
Forum: Liquid Lounge
Playschooler
likes 1
He showed up in a pretty nice car with some recent damage... looking for work... and I was just starting a roof job on a 2 story apartment complex.

I told him that his job would be to pack shingles up and spread them around on the roof. I expected this to keep him busy for a couple days.

This guy was around 6'4" and built like an athlete. He pumped all the shingles up in half a day. Great. I paid him for the whole day and sent him off to celebrate.

The next day, he showed up bright and early looking to work. I showed him the basics of laying shingles and got him started on a little section of shed roof. I went to check on the other guys and when I came back 15 minutes later, he had nailed down an amazing number of shingles. Problem was, they were crooked as hell. He had ignored the chalk line and you could look out a bedroom window and see the twisted crooked mess. No big deal. I started ripping shingles off, explaining that the shingles needed to be straight and that we needed to start over. When I glanced over at him, I could see murder in his eyes. True rage, as though I had insulted his Mother. I calmed him down and assured him that everybody fucks up at first and that he'll still get paid. He didn't seem to be worried about getting paid. He was pissed that I was ripping up his handiwork.

I spent the rest of the day explaining why there are chalk lines and why it's important for the shingles to be straight. I spent all day working with him on this little section of roof. He'd do OK as long as I was watching but as soon as I turned my back, he would fuck it all up at an amazing rate. I think I removed 90% shingles he nailed down. He was not happy. There was almost no progress on the shed roof.

The next day, he showed up bright and early ready to hit it. I didn't want him on the roof again but I did have some odd labor that didn't require skill. He busted through all that work in a few days and then I had to tell him I was out of work. He was pissed. He was big and though I wasn't afraid of many people back in those days, I could tell this guy had been in some shit and wasn't afraid of giving out some shit. He said that if I didn't get him some more work, I was going to be sorry or something to that effect. I had to stand up straight and tell him some harsh truths. He wasn't cut out for my line of work.

The next week, he showed up in another nice late model car with some fresh damage. He apologized for poor shingle performance and threatening behavior and offered to return $100 of his wages to make up for it. I refused it. Drank a few beers with him and some guys that night and the next night.

Later that week, his car turned up but he was gone. They found the 1st car hidden in a barn the next day. Turns out both cars were stolen and that guy was on the run. Buncha stolen stuff, including wallets in the trunk from half a dozen states. Never saw him again. He made the radar of local cops but they never figured out his real name.

He was a working fool and I lamented not being able to harness his energy but I had probably been taking my life in my hands by arguing with him. He was also pretty entertaining when he wasn't scaring the Hell out of me.

and then there was the guy(my ex-wife's cousin's husband) who threatened me with a 28 oz straight claw hammer, then rode by my job sites for the next year pointing a pistol out the window, sometimes a dozen times a day, telling anybody who would listen that he was going to kill me if it was the last thing he ever did. He'd drive by pointing his gun and I'd seek shelter and point my gun back at him while calling the cops. That guy's Dad had been killed in jail a couple years after killing another inmate and his older brother had recently slit some poor fool from waist to the opposite shoulder, spilling guts on the ground and was in jail, building his rep and lengthening his sentence by getting into fights. That was right about the time I started kayaking and I was carrying a stainless Walther PPK with me everywhere I went, including the creek. I felt the most vulnerable when paddling up to the takeout, wondering if Mickey was going to "pop his cherry" by shooting me. He finally got some real jail time but I'll be a lot happier when that guy ceases to exist.

Yeah... I've hired a psycho or 2.
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