The Working Man: Dying on Company Time

The mornings were always empty. Jackie lived alone, in his small apartment, in a rather poor borough in Brooklyn. He assumed he was the only single man living there, with the sounds of babies crying, children laughing and running, and parents issuing commands as they got their kids ready for school. In a weird way, it was his alarm clock, as Jackie worked in the afternoon, he had plenty of time on his hands as he did his morning routine.

The living space was as clean as you’d expect from a depressed army veteran. Clothes sprawled in his room, hardly washed. Some food and empty cans littered the floors and dressers. Jackie tried to make it look homely, with pictures of him with his friends and family, sometimes even back in the army days. It was real easy to tell those days were long gone. Jackie had a buzzcut in those days. After brushing his teeth and getting dressed in an old jean jacket, blue jeans, and a band tee, he decided to walk downstairs and wander until it was time for work.

Jackie walked out into the hallway of the complex, where the smell of weed and cigarette hit the air. It smelled like home, it was all too familiar to the man. He looked to his left, seeing a woman on the phone sitting. That was Ashley, another hopeless soul deciding to take deals from the wrong people. Jackie overheard her conversation as he walked by, walking slower to hear the whole deal.

“... I promise I got the money,” She said, voice quivering. “What? No! Don’t–” She bit her tongue, gripped with fear that she spoke too loudly. “I got the money. I’ll give it to you tonight. No need for… Ok. Fine.”

A shake down. If he had to guess it was Rossi’s gang. Jackie tightened his fist with rage, and continued walking outside. New York mornings in the fall were always calm, with the leaves falling, the wind blowing a soft breeze. Halloween draws near. Jackie seemed to blend in with the crowd with the hands in his jacket pockets. His eyes stayed on the ground. He walked to his favorite bodega where he always shopped. American Market, aka the AM, was a slightly famous bodega on the fringe of downtown. It was right next to a mural of Francis Rice, a black man who was killed by the hands of the police two years ago. The ‘08 riots were a pivotal time for Jackie, who was further radicalized by the brutality. As he always thought, anything the government touched was bad news.

He walked in seeing the middle-aged store owner, Harris, reading the newspaper next to his void cat Miles. He looked up as he saw the disheveled white boy and smirked. “Jackie, how are ya my boy?”

Jackie smiled and nodded as he went to the drinks. It was a small store, and nobody was there, so they could have a conversation. “It’s going. I’m just…doing me.”

“Don’t sound too hopeful there,” He said, putting his hands on his graying mustache and goatee in thought. “What’s wrong, son?”

Jackie sighed as he grabbed a cola from the fridge. “Everything just sucks right now. I keep finding myself in this loop, this constant loop of the same shit over and over again. I hate it. I hate looking at it. It’s all so tiring.”

Harris hummed as he rang up the drink. “Loop, you say? Damn, I’ve been there before. I think everyone has those kinds of crises in their lives, Lord God knows I’ve been there. You need a purpose. Something to really get ya going. What do ya like, Jack?”

He thought for a moment. He had no real hobbies besides moping. He only felt strongly about negative things. He shrugged, not saying anything and handing the dollar over.

“Come on,” Harris said as he petted his cat. “You like something, boy. Give it some thought for me. You can make a change, Jack. I see that potential. You just need to get out of that slump and get to work.”

“Of course,” Jackie said, smiling. “Thanks, Harris. I’ll think about it.”

Harris was the father Jackie wished he had. A dad who actually cared. Somebody who didn’t just see him as a burden. He wished he had that spunk Tiffany had. The hope she expresses. Jackie walked out of the store, cracking the can open and walking over to the train station. He’d head to work early.

Jackie worked at a gas station on the fringes of New York, called PB Station. Decked in the sickly green and white, this corporate glob of fake happiness and joy was always a damper in Jackie’s life. Like other things. He was forced to smile when his boss made the rare appearance to berate him and his coworker for not being professional enough. Fucking asshole, Jackie thought. He wished he could bash his skull in. Took the prestigious job of being a gas station manager too seriously.

Luckily, he wasn't there today. He walked in as the morning shift guys were making their last few check ups before handing the keys to Jackie for the rest of the day. Most days he wore the ugly green polo as a uniform, with his jean jacket to make it look presentable. A few moments later, his coworker came in. “Wassup, Jackie?” he said in a rush. “Sorry bro, got caught up after practice.”

His name was Dante Florist. A young man with much brighter energy than Jackie. That’s because he had a future, a bright one at that. Dante was the star player of the University of New York Spartans. The shooting guard everyone loved. He was damn good, and as a Junior, is in talks for making his move to the draft soon. Jackie watched as he walked into the break room, and a few minutes later, the young man was next to him, on his phone. His twists were short, cute, and perfect for his brown face. He wore the polo over his gray hoodie he refused to take off. Was it dress code? No. But Jackie wouldn’t snitch.

“So,” Dante asked after a bit, sitting on an old chair. “You was in a war, bro?”

Jackie turned slowly. “War? What makes you think I was in war?”

“Boss told me you was a vet.”

He sighed. Guess that’s fair enough. “Yeah. Fought in Africa a few years ago.”

“Damn,” Was all he said before looking back on his phone.

Jackie looked at the phone. It was larger than his, as he just had an old flip phone. “What’s that?”

Dante looked up. “What? My phone?”

He nodded.

“Dude, it’s the new iPhone! Just came out, look, got a home button, crazy touch screen, all that.”

Woah, technology really stepped up, he needed to catch up. “Way better than some beeper, that’s for sure,” Jackie said. “How could you afford it?”

“Don’t tell anyone but… I made some deals with some guys to sell some shirts, ya feel me? Fucking NCAA. I can’t sell shit off my name. I ain’t no fool, though. I know I can make mad money right now.”

Jackie wanted to rant about how a large institution's job was to put down the common man to fill their own pockets. College sports was a predatory space of men and women scalping kids to work for free. They scam them with ‘free education’ and use their bodies like cattle. What if they get injured? Too bad, fuck you. His face twisted with frustration.

“Uhh… Jackie? You good?”

He snapped out of it, laughing it off. “Yeah, yeah. Just forgot something at home.”

Dante resumed his talk about the new phone.

The rest of the day was a drag. Customers coming and going, Dante and Jackie taking turns sitting and standing, a mundane cycle. Something Jackie was too self-aware to ignore. It tormented him. Time moved slow. The day ended for them at 11PM. Jackie locked up, and Dante said his goodbyes. And just like that, another bright spot in a sad man’s life disappears for the night. Being alone, the natural state of things.

He debated seeing Tiffany, but she didn’t text all day. So, he planned to just say hi after work tomorrow. He rode the train home, seeing the shifting faces tired after a long day of serving the man. Getting to the steps of his apartment, he saw Ashley sitting, holding her arms. Jackie stopped, looking at her. She had her jet black hair down, her pale skin scratched and bruised recently. Her eyes shifted to the man. An awkward silence followed.

Jackie spoke up. “... You need a smoke?”

Ashley laughed dryly. “Sure.”

He handed her a cigarette letting her smoke away. He sat down next to her, saying nothing. He let the city speak for itself. He asked no questions, he made no judgments, he didn’t give her advice. Jackie of all people knew that sometimes, you just need someone to keep you company. Ashley started to cry silently, letting a tear fall down her cheek. Jackie thought to offer a hand, but he couldn’t. He just sat with her. She spoke up after flicking away the cig. “Thank you. I need to think for a bit.”

He nodded and stood up. “You uh… know where I live. I can always offer a cig.”

She chuckled and smiled weakly, wiping her face. “I appreciate that.”

And just like that, the working man’s day was done.