I've been at this pruning gig for over a month now. I like it OK. I'm the bitch: the hourly waged gofer guy who's micro-managed at everything I do. And I'm OK with that.
My life the last four years has been all about pruning. Now I am a professional pruner. There's a lot of lessons in that.
But today while sawing up a big pecan limb, I finally realized who I work for.
The Son and The Dad are the real life inspirations for Homer and Grampa Simpson.
The Son's a great guy. He's not as dumb as Homer, but his "literalist" sense of humor annoys me enough that he might as well be Homer in some respects. (me, handing blue key chain to The Son: "here's your blue key". The Son: "It's blue? I thought it was silver"). God, help me.
The Dad is almost an exact replica of Grampa. He sounds exactly like him.
Often when The Dad & I are sitting waiting in the truck or waiting for The Son to settle up with a customer, The Dad will make a joke about how this sitting part is "the toughest work of the job" or something along those lines. It was funny once. But every two minutes?!?
Homer, Grampa, and Agent B. We're the tree pruning trio of the fair mother city.
1 comment:
ever seen the 3 Amigos? great flick! Made me think of that. I guess you're Dusty Bottoms.
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