Hick Dives into His New Job

Hick has been doing the duties of his new job. Not that it takes up much time. The old guy showed him what needed to be done. He fixed a couple things brought to his attention, like the lights in the hall. He said he had a meeting to take the expenditures to the city accountant, or some such entity. I don't really listen the whole time he's droning about things that don't interest me much.

Monday evening he got a phone call. I didn't hear to much of it, but it sounded like a problem. So I asked what was going on.

"It was a lady at the Senior Center. She said she turned on her kitchen sink, and the water gushed out all over the floor, and would I come fix it in the morning. I said sure."

"Is she okay? Should you go tonight?"

"No. She said she got it mopped up. She asked me to come in the morning. She said she left the mop right there, in case there's a mess, I can clean it up."

"Will she go somewhere while you're working? I mean, where would she have to go?"

"She's 88 years old. She still drives, though. She'll probably just go downstairs while they're getting lunch ready. She's usually down there by 8:30."

"Was it her faucet? Did it spray the kitchen?"

"No. I think it was probably a bolt that came loose from a pipe under the sink. I'll get it fixed. I'd go at 7:00, but that's probably too early for her. So I told her 8:00."

I'm sure Hick would have gone that evening if it was an emergency, or if the lady had asked. It takes about 20 minutes for him to get there. He wouldn't leave an old lady with water leaking overnight in her kitchen.

Less Taxing Than Last Year

You may recall that I started working on our taxes March 20. That was a Wednesday. I got a lot done, and the weather calmed down, and I was able to get to town the next day like normal. By Friday evening, I had Hick's business information entered, everything finished. 

I'd reviewed my returns twice. 

On Saturday, I submitted the tax returns online as usual. I got the email that they'd been received, both federal and state. That was a relief. Done for another year. I usually don't give it another thought. I'm not one of those people who constantly check to see if our refund had been issued yet.

Imagine my surprise on Friday, when doing the weekly balancing of our checking account, when the bank information line said we had a deposit for the amount of the Missouri tax refund! That has to be a record! Submitted on Saturday, refund deposited on Friday! It usually takes a few weeks. And in the past, Missouri has lagged behind the federal refund.

Anyhoo... it's not like we're rolling in dough. We always have the taxes held out up front from any monies we receive, and set our exemptions so that we are more likely to get a refund rather than having to pay. I know that we are just giving the feds interest money by letting them hold out more than necessary. But it prevents a "surprise" tax bill. You never know when we might sell a flip house, or if Hick will have a really good year of SUS2.5 sales.

The Pony was working on taxes Sunday. He called for the amount we had spent on the QuickFlip renovations between buying it, then selling it three weeks later. The Pony got his own paperwork for his portion of the sale at closing. So he had those figures, just not the expenditures. Back at the time of the sale, The Pony looked up info on capital gains. He set aside some of his profit for tax time.

The Pony said his taxes are done, but he's waiting a week to file, so he can look over it again with "fresh eyes" to see if there's something he might have missed. He will be paying again, not getting a refund. But he says it looks like the amount will only be about half of what he planned for.

Poor Genius. He also has to pay. An amount that is near what The Pony made off the QuickFlip. POOR Genius, indeed! That's a terrible problem to have...

Hick Can Renovate a Kitchen, But Can't Comprehend What Goes on in One

Hick is quite talented at looking at a room in a flip house, and knowing what to do with it. Make it smaller, make it bigger, turn it into another room. It's simple for him. He might draw a floor plan for me if I ask, but for him, it's all in his head. He takes measurements, cuts boards, and VOILA! A new room has been created.

It's the simple things that give Hick trouble.

Saturday night, I made meat loaf for supper. I don't have a recipe. I just throw stuff in. Hamburger, wheat bread crumbs, a couple eggs, some powdered onion soup mix, Worcestershire sauce, and steak sauce. I bake it in a glass 9 x 13 pan that was handed down from my mom. It's at least 65 years old. I'm careful not to grab the part where the end has chipped. I bake my meat loaf at 350, for about 40-50 minutes, then add ketchup to the top, and put it back in the oven for another 10-15 minutes. I would never expect Hick to be able to do this. Not even with instructions written down.

No. I don't ask Hick to construct a meat loaf. The only thing I expected of him was to cut off a slice for his plate. I'd already made his mashed potatoes, and warmed up some garlic toast. I even had marked off the meat loaf in sections. You'd think wielding a knife to slice through meat loaf would be a job Hick was capable of.

"I've got the meat loaf out of the oven. I plan on us eating it for three nights. So I marked it into thirds. I know you like the end. So you can cut that section in half to get your part. I don't care if you take a little more than half. I'll get mine later."

Everybody knows what a slice of meat loaf looks like, right?

That picture is from several years ago. Not the current meat loaf. I only show it as an example of what a slice of meat loaf looks like. You know, in case you've been living under a rock, shacking up with the Geico caveman. A slice of meat loaf. Like you would get in a diner, a restaurant, or any normal home.

Hick took the knife, and I had to say 

"STOP! What are you doing??? That's not how you cut a meat loaf!"

Pardon me for this next picture. It's the actual meat loaf, but cold, in the battle-scarred glass baking dish that's Val's version of a family heirloom. Just to explain Hick's idea of cutting a meat loaf.

Imagine the other end still being on the meat loaf. You can see my dividing mark for Sunday and Monday suppers. Did Hick make his slice parallel to that cut in the ketchup? No siree, Bob! Hick was trying to make his cut with the KNIFE PERPENDICULAR TO THE DIVIDING LINE!

I just took the knife and cut it myself. Might as well. It seems like where Hick's kitchen skills are concerned, I should take care of every step. How can Hick be so old, and not understand the shape of a serving of meat loaf??? It should NOT be a square!

Hick says he was right about the way he wanted to cut the meat loaf. Because it was in half. And that I only want things done MY way. Well. Maybe he should amend that to my way, and the way everybody else in the world slices meat loaf...

I'm wondering if one of Hick's buddies IS the Geico caveman.

Hick Has 99 Talents and "Lucky Gambler" Ain't One

Hick has no trouble finding ways to spend his "spare" time between flipping houses, stocking and operating his Storage Unit Store, maintaining the apartments at the Senior Center, mowing our 10 acres/Pony's yard/three flip yards, picking up remodeling projects from elderlies, and shooting the bull with his cronies every Friday afternoon.

One of Hick's recent recreational pastimes is stopping by a pawnshop run by one of his buddies. I'm sure it started as a guise for buying merchandise to resell in his stores. Now he goes to the fake slot machines there, to spend a little time and money. I don't mind. We each have our weekly cash allowance. What Hick does with his is not my concern.

These fake slot machines LOOK like regular slots, only not as fancy. They play the same way. I can't imagine how they're legal, but Hick says it's because they have a button that tells you whether the next spin will be a winner. And also it shows what the next jackpot will be, but some regular slots show that as well. In Missouri, the only legal slots are in "riverboat" casinos. Though "riverboat" is a broad determination, with most casinos being stationary on land, which might include several pylons in water.

Anyhoo... these fake slots have been around for several years, and are becoming more and more prevalent. There are two in Save A Lot, and in some gas stations. Now this pawnshop. They are called "gambling machines," and are supposedly legal because they are NOT games of chance. Because you can see if the next spin will be a winner.

Hick says he usually spends $20 when he's there. Hick is not a high roller. He only plays quarter denominations in the casino. These fake slots go from a quarter up to several dollars.

Friday, before Hick met up with The Pony to go get a new phone, he had been playing the fake slot.

"I spent $40, and a lady played it after me, and spent $10. We was talking about it as I left, and my buddy who runs the place said, 'Which machine was it? I'm gonna run back there and play it, heh, heh!' I told him he better not be sending me a picture of him with a big jackpot."

Of course you know where this is leading. Hick indeed got a picture of the guy sitting in front of that fake slot. He had won $800. The text came in while he was in the truck with The Pony. I mentioned it when talking to The Pony on his new phone later that evening.

"OH! So THAT'S why Dad said, 'That asshole!' when he checked his phone."

Heh, heh. No sympathy from me or The Pony, former jackpot winners of $8,600 and $16,633 on REAL slot machines!

Hick has won several times on this fake slot. I think maybe his highest jackpot on it was $80.

"I was bettin' a dollar this time. My buddy said he was bettin' two dollars. I thought he was joking about going to play it. He didn't go in while I was still there. He made sure to send me that picture, just because I told him not to!"

Oh, well. It's entertainment. Anything that keeps Hick off the streets and in the pawnshop is acceptable, I guess.

Another Odd Encounter at the Grocery Store

Friday I got the handicap space next to the cart return at 10Box. Not the closest handicap space. A sedan was parked there, with a lady behind the wheel, talking to someone out the window, with three kids in the back. Not sure why she needed that space for her passenger to be inside shopping, but she DID have a handicap placard hanging from the mirror while she was sitting there socializing, and stayed there when her conversation partner went inside to shop.

I pried a cart loose from the three stacks waiting to be "returned" to the inside cart corral. I used it as my cart/walker to go inside. As I was entering the second set of double doors, a woman came out. She was fifty-something, with bleached blond hair, carrying a bottle of orange drink in her hand. I sure hope she wasn't shoplifting! She did not come from the register area, but from the other side. Maybe she had parked her cart back in the indoor cart corral, and was just carrying out her purchase. Though I don't know why she would need a cart just to buy a drink. Maybe she was a worker without a uniform. Anyhoo... she was in no hurry, and did not seem to be on the lam for a crime.

"Are you going to use that riding cart?"

"No."

"Look here. If you do this..." She took the seatbelt of the child-seat, and grabbed the other end. Looped it through one handle of my purse, which was sitting in the child seat. "If you buckle this, nobody can steal your purse."

"Oh. Thank you. That's a tip I haven't heard before."

Blondie went on out with her bottle of orange drink. I continued into the store. That was a bit presumptuous of her, but I know she meant well. Yes, it could keep somebody from grabbing my purse out of the cart. But it could also keep ME from grabbing the purse out of my cart if somebody decided to run off with the whole cart, knowing I am unable to chase them down. I always keep a hand on my purse handle while I'm pushing the cart. I don't leave my cart unattended to get items off the shelf. I take my purse out and put it on T-Hoe's bumper in front of my body, when I'm loading groceries outside. 

I unbuckled my purse handle when I got inside. I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't really want to shop with my purse buckled in. Besides, why should I trust a lady exiting the store, reaching towards my purse? That's why I always keep a hand on the handle.

The Brief Restoration of Val's Faith in Humanity Has Been Revoked

What is wrong with people? Is the end of civilization on the horizon? Just when I thought kindness was enjoying a resurgence, chaos reared its entitled head again.

Thursday is my errand day. I put gas in T-Hoe, go to the bank, do a little shopping, and get my usual scratchers. Usually without incident.

At the Sis-Town Casey's, I went inside to pre-pay for T-Hoe's gas. Two teenagers were completing their soda purchase. A 20-something woman was swaying back and forth while giving them a wide berth in line. Then I was next. The teens finished and stepped aside, talking loudly as teens do. I have no issue with them. Swayer stepped up to pay, using a card. Two people got in line behind me. The cashier stepped over to the other register, and said she could help me. 

A random 40-something gal walked across in front of me. She started to put her stuff on the counter of that second register, then looked back and saw my face. I'm pretty sure it showed displeasure.

"Oh. I just want somewhere to set this down." 40s Gal put four mini bottles of liquor on the counter, then scooted aside. 

I stepped up to make my transaction. You wouldn't think four mini bottles of liquor would be too awkward or heavy to hold in line, would you? They're airline size bottles. Not magnums of champagne. Did 40s Gal think she was going to jump line? It was probably more than just my expression that swayed her. Most likely the mob forming behind me.

At the bank, the teller at not-my window was trying to make small talk with a bald guy who got out of a black dually pickup truck. I guess he was depositing cash. "Oh! How did you know I needed some fifties?" The guy was having none of it. He grumpily replied, "I didn't." Just go along with it, buddy. No need to be a horse's rumpus. No matter how she cheerily tried to engage him, he was a grouch.

At the grocery store, the guy ahead of me only had a gallon of milk. He was paying with a card. It cost four dollars and change. As he was tapping in his info, he hatefully declared, "NO! I DON'T want cash back!" The young cashier was befuddled. "Um. Okay..." he said. When that guy left, he turned to me and asked how I was doing. Then he said, "That guy was something."

"Yeah. Maybe something happened. Maybe he was having a bad day."

"I guess. How do you respond to that? 'I'm sorry?' I can't help what the card scanner shows everybody!"

After I left the Gas Station Chicken Store, I was sitting at the stoplight, waiting to go straight across to the pharmacy. Two cars in cross traffic ran the red light. And they were behind a county sheriff's vehicle that just made a left turn. I guess they were feeling safe that it wouldn't see them and turn around for pursuit. A guy across the intersection from me also ran the red light. I know, because I had the green arrow when he nosed his pickup pulling a long trailer holding a backhoe into the intersection while I had a green arrow.

I guess we have entered an era that might just as well be called Do As You Please. Few people exhibit common courtesy these days. Or follow the laws of the road.

Maybe I'm just cranky, because at the store I had a cart with a bad wheel AND a sticky handle.

Val Has Sympathy. Hick, Not so Much.

You may recall the rift between Hick and a denizen of the place where he used to go every day for lunch. Lately, he's been making it there a couple times a week. Also, he works upstairs now! He doesn't have to be on-site for any specific hours. Just be available to take care of any problems, and collect the rent every month.

Monday evening, Hick had some news.

"Denizen can't work at the Senior Center anymore! The gal in charge said she had to let her go. Told her she couldn't do bingo, and couldn't sit up front answering the phone. The GiC said there were too many complaints. That she was in a craft store over the weekend, and a couple came up to her and said they missed having lunch at the Senior Center, but they won't come back if Denizen is there."

"Was she mean to them?"

"Apparently. GiC had a talk with Denizen, and said there were just too many complaints. She's tried to tell her before, but Denizen only changes when GiC is around. That's why she thought Denizen was doing better. But she's been getting more complaints. So she had to let her go."

"Is Denizan paid for working there?"

"No. She's a volunteer. But she got a job recently as a hostess at a restaurant over in Bill-Paying Town. Of all the people to be a hostess! I asked GiC if Denizen blamed me. And she said no, in fact she blamed everybody else but me!"

"Can she still eat lunch there?"

"Yeah. She just can't work. I doubt she'll ever come back. Probably her and her husband will quit coming."

Welp! Tuesday, Hick said Denizen had been at the Senior Center eating lunch.

"Was she nice to you?"

"No! She was nice to everybody else but me. All smiley and friendly."

"What does her husband do?"

"He actually works there. But she's not allowed back in the kitchen anymore. So she can't go back there and talk to him or anybody."

"Well. This is sad. You know she loved doing that stuff. It's part of who she is. She will miss it a lot. It makes me sad."

"Ain't no reason to feel sorry for her. She brought it on herself, being a busybody. She didn't have to gossip about people, or be mean to them."

"Still. I feel bad for her."

Not Hick. Not a bit. Somehow, he's still in Denizen's doghouse.