It was a petty complaint, but Larrold Osborne was pissed that his HVAC Basic Skills Certificate was already creased.
Felt like the Dennerman Foundation could have given the people in the program already framed certificates.
The foundation had taken over the old St. Francis complex, where one of the priests had allegedly molested dozens of boys. The place gave Larrold this kind of shoved in a jar feeling, like he was some kind of specimen.
He got his HVAC certificate, free of charge, and Kurtzer, his always-smelling-like-burnt-wood PO should probably step off his dick for a month or two.
The Dennerman Foundation gave away smartphones to everyone who completed the program, and some of the guys at the bus stop were looking at them like one of the saints dropped them from clouds.
Larrold already had a smartphone his sister gave him, a good one, and he was pondering two things:
Where was God and the saints and the angels when priests were grabbing little boys by the balls, and what did the term allegedly mean when someone was already convicted?
A woman at the bus stop was helping one of the guys learn how to work his new smart phone.
Dude’s name was Axel, like the car wheel gizmo, and one of the instructors would call him Alex and the dude would get mad.
Larrold always thought shut the fuck up, you goin to school for free, but the dude was wrapped tight in attitude.
Axel was already getting impatient with the woman.
They didn’t seem to know each other. Seemed to be just a gesture, just a person being nice.
Larrold appreciated that.
She showed the guy his camera, and how to reverse the screen to take a selfie.
A bunch of people stepped forward as the bus neared, and someone groaned.
The destination/route sign on the bus said Not In Service.
Larrold relaxed, tried to smooth out the crease on his certificate with his thumb and middle finger, smudged it. Now he really wished they had framed the damn thing.
He was gonna show Kurtzer a creased, smudged certificate. He had to frame it before he showed his mom.
Axel was asking the woman if scanner meant he had a metal detector on his phone, and she laughed, it started kind of mocking but she softened it, sweetened that laugh, and Larrold was starting to think she was cute. Maybe he could lie and say he didn’t know how to work his new phone either.
“You can scan checks if you got a checking account,” the woman said, and Larrold snorted because at least half the people in the HVAC course were homeless. Wasn’t a checking account crowd. It was a plasma voucher crowd.
Larrold, for the first time, though the two days a week, four month course was over, started to think he might be the smartest, most well-off person that took it.
Then the woman said “Cue-arr code.”
Larrold didn’t know what that was.
Neither did Axel, who said “the fuck is that?”
The woman pointed at the a-frame sign in front of the car audio shop next to the bus stop,
RizzSoundz. Let ‘em know you comin style.
“That weird squiggly symbol in that square,” the woman said, “It’s a cue-arr code. Letters Q and R. You can use ‘em for menus and…”
“And winnin’ a car stereo,” Axel said.
Larrold realized he knew what a QR code was, he just didn’t know they were called something other than “them squiggly things.”
The sign said scan and text LOUD to 59490 Ten instant winners, One Grand Prize Package.
Axel moved toward the sign, pressing the screen on his phone as though the contest would end right then and the sign would self-destruct.
“Did you get it? The woman asked.
Axel showed her the phone.
“No, no, like this,” she said, and raised the phone above her head so he could see.
She scanned, texted, and handed the phone back to Axel.
The phone hummed.
Axel read the screen.
“Sorry, not a winner. Damn.”
Larrold stepped up and scanned the sign with the phone Maureen gave him, the free phone still in his pocket.
He texted LOUD. His phone hummed, then played music.
The screen said Congratulations! You’re an instant winner! Redeem prize at RIZZSOUNDZ…
“I just won a car stereo,” Larrold said, more shocked than celebratory.
A few guys from the class came over to check his phone screen, which he held up.
“I don’t even have a damn car,” Larrold said.
“Better get one,” someone said.
“Go in there, maybe they’ll give you half the value of the stereo in cash.”
“I don’t think the instant winners win stereos,” the woman who helped Axel said. “I think they win floor mats and air fresheners.”
“Shutup, Bitch,” Axel said, “You couldn’t even win me nothin.’”
***
Larrold’s work pants were ripped. They were a gift from the Dennerman Foundation too, something you got on Day One.
Only twenty eight of the original sixty people who qualified had made it through. Larrold thought that was a lot of pants for people who were just out there wandering.
The cops never came, though three guys, including Larrold, had gotten in Axel’s face for calling the helpful woman a bitch.
Axel swung and five guys wound up in the fight, one guy on Axel’s side, then two other guys wound up fighting when one tried to get out of the way of the main fight.
Larrold was pretty sure the South Evans bus came and went during the chaos too.
He had gone into RizzSoundz. They told him that prizes had to be redeemed at the home location on Gratiot and the prizes were all weather floor mats and air fresheners and tire polish for the car Larrold didn’t own. He was automatically entered in the drawing for the Kenwood Excelon.
When Larrold came back out the helpful woman they had come to the defense of was still at the bus stop, holding a purple Slurpee.
One of the guys from class, Larrold couldn’t remember his name, was working her hard, and she seemed to be receptive. He was holding a Slurpee too.
A few blocks away was L&J Fish, You Buy We Fry. They had a QR code out front that Larrold had walked past a few dozen times. He decided to go see if they were having a contest, or at least a discount.
His hand was bleeding and scraped. Hadn’t really gotten any good shots in on Axel, who eventually took off running. The blood had to be from when the fight, three or four guys worth, had tumbled to the pavement.
Larrold was past the Nottingham Library, padlocked as long as he could remember, the copper lettering leaving pale green stains on the stone, when he heard a woman’s voice cry out.
“I think you forgot this!” she said, jogging toward him.
The guy from class was by the bus stop, holding both Slurpees.
In the woman’s hand was the HVAC Basic Skills Certificate.
Larrold walked briskly back to meet her halfway.
“I could have handled that motherfucker myself, but thank you,” she said with a smile Larrold couldn’t read. Maybe she could have handled him herself.
Larrold thought of the word allegedly again.
He had allegedly won something.
It wasn’t in his hand yet, and he had no use for it when he did get it. Might be able to sell ‘em.
Might take the advanced class and really get an HVAC job.
He walked toward L&J Fish, getting hungrier as he walked, relieved that the fight hadn’t gotten him popped.
Kurtzer hated him, would have leaned on that violation hard.
He looked at the Certificate again.
HVAC BASIC SKILLS
Let it Be Known on this Date 2016 Axel Byron Russell has fully and successfully completed the requirements…
Larrold wadded up the certificate, threw it toward a gray municipal trash receptacle and missed.
***
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Thanks for reading!
What a poignant story. You can try and pull yourself up by your own boot straps, but they just snap, and you’re still on the ground and now you need new boot straps. Great.
That was a good laugh.
Karma for the win!
I have noticed that the guys I work with who at one point were caught up in the system, are afraid of management, as they don't wish to chance going through the process again.
Without hope, it's a pretty dark world.