Old Guy in the Truck

An old man sat waiting in his truck. He was waiting for me to walk up with the mail before he backed out of his driveway.  He stuck his hand out the window and I passed him the two flyers that were going to his house.

“Garbage!” he said, screwing his face up.

I smiled and probably fake laughed a bit. I hear it nearly every day, but for some reason this one really bothered me. I think it was that he only said one solitary word. GARBAGE!

“Garbage,” I grumble to myself. “You’re garbage!”

You think I like handing out trash? It’s totally embarassing. I hate it. I don’t have a choice in it though. I’m a mailman and part of being a mailman is delivering flyers. This is my job. Everyone knows that junk mail is garbage. What good does shouting it do? Do you think that’s going to prevent me from delivering it next time? It’s not. I have to do it. Why don’t you just put up a sign that says no shitty garabage in my mailbox? You know very well that that’s an option. It’s a contract. We actually can’t deliver flyers to you. Did you know that? You knew that, you crabby old shit.

“Garbage!”

Christ. It’s enough to destroy a man’s self-worth. My self-esteem is in the basement. I’m in the gutter here, and it’s all thanks to people like you, you dried-out knob. Is this what you’re doing in your last days? Just kicking any guy who’s worse off than you, while he’s down? Would it hurt to try “Have a nice day,” you goon?

Anyway. If you have any garbage you want to get rid of, this guy lives at 12432 51 st.