Taking a break from preachy opinion pieces, today I'm going to tell some funny stories from the many seasons that I've spent working for the Parks n' Rec department. These stories aren't told in any particular order.
Crashing the Lawnmower
One of my duties was to mow and trim the grass around the Parks Division building. This was mostly an easy job with the exception of one little parking median. This particular median was a pain to mow because of its hilly terrain, tiny trees that had to be crouched under, and cars parking with their bumpers hanging over the grass.
On one of the occasions that I mowed this median, the mower slipped on the wet grass, sending it sliding into the bumper of one of the cars. This scraped off a small section of paint from the rear of the car. I shut off the mower and looked at the scuff, trying to think of what to do, briefly considering buying a bucket of white paint. It was very early in the season and I was mortified about making a bad impression. I called my boss, who is normally very chill and kind. It was the first time I ever saw him angry. You see, not only had I damaged one of his colleagues cars, I had also committed the grave sin of forcing him to have to fill out paperwork. An hour later I was peeing into a plastic cup taking a drug test on a technicality, because the city requires employees to take one in the event of any vehicle collision.
The Worst Claw Game
In the morning when I met with my boss, he explained there was some garbage in the little landscapes by the side of the highway that needed to be cleaned up. Arriving at the first one, I found some scattered garbage and a very strange cardboard sign hung from a tree with weird patterns and designs on it. I warily trashed the pieces of schizophrenic art and headed to the next site.
At the next site I met with my section lead, a guy named Derek. He led me over to a tent. He asked if anyone was home, which received no response. He apprehensively unzipped the tent and found nothing inside other than a pile of dirty clothes. Derek and I packed the tent into my truck and then Derek sped off. However, my job was not yet done, next to where the tent had been was another small issue: A huge layer cake of toilet paper and fossilized feces. Wincing, I took out my trash claw and got to work.
The first 'layer' wasn't so bad. But the problem was that as I peeled back the sun-baked fossilized layers I uncovered the more rancid and fresh layers underneath. Soon the stench was so overpowering I had to take breaks to walk away and gag. Sometimes it was hard for my claw to find purchase and as I choked and nearly cried from the stench I was reminded of those frustrating claw machines they have in arcades and supermarkets.
Sa'be
One morning my boss announced that I would be working with a different guy for a change. His name is Steve, and to me he's the definition of a stopped clock being right twice a day. On one hand he rides his bike everywhere, he has an active lifestyle, and he doesn't own a cell phone. On the other hand, he believes in every conspiracy theory.
It all started when we were driving out of the Parks building. I saw a bigfoot crossing sign which someone had put up as a joke. Just trying to make conversation, I said "You know, people in the pacific northwest take Bigfoot really seriously." Steve leaned over and looked at me. "What do you know about Bigfoot?" he said in a grave tone. He went on to describe his own personal encounter with bigfoot, in which he smelled the creature but did not see it. He was too afraid to open his eyes because he knew that once he saw bigfoot it would "change his life." He also chided me for using the word bigfoot, saying that the creature prefers to be called "Sa'be." I noticed later that he had the word Sa'be written on the knuckles of his gloves.
Because of my agreeable personality I didn't push back or try to argue with Steve. This led him to become more comfortable talking to me and over the next two weeks that I worked with him, he told me the truth about fairies, colloidal silver, 9/11, aliens, orbs, and chemtrails. Once he even told me that his cat spoke to him.
I never saw Steve eat solid food. His diet consisted entirely of some kind of liquid concoction he drank out of a thermos, which was a mixture of chia seeds and mushrooms. He was really active for his age (he was around 60) so perhaps his diet is actually effective. Steve was also really, really good at his job. I've never seen anyone mow or trim better than Steve could.
I talked with Derek and he asked me how working with Steve was going. He also told me not to ask Steve about Sa'be. I laughed and said "too late."
The Tarantula Incident
One day when I was working at one of the parks I was getting ready to clean the bathrooms when I was interrupted by a homeless man, who was carrying a bottle of vinegar in one hand. He asked if he could go in and I said yes. Unprompted, he then explained what the bottle of vinegar was about. He said that one of his friends has a pet tarantula. The problem is that when he's sleeping, the tarantula likes to crawl around and eventually finds its way into his pants, where it bites his penis due to its resemblance to a worm. He claimed that vinegar makes excellent tarantula repellent, so he was going to go to the bathroom to pour it on his penis. During the course of the conversation he was wincing and whinging as if in pain from a tarantula bite. I wished him well and he walked into the bathroom.
Earlier in the summer, this same homeless guy opened up to me about how he became homeless. He explained that he used to be a pastor in central Utah. One of his congregants was addicted to painkillers and he was trying to help her quit her addiction. This lead to him taking away her opioids, and she called the police on him. He was arrested for theft. In prison, he then became addicted to drugs. Of course, I didn't believe a word of the story.
Mike
Working at the park you become well acquainted with the homeless. Every once in a while you meet a member of their ranks who stands out. One of the most notable homeless I encountered was Mike (no relation to my boss) Mike was probably in his 60s, but he dressed like he was 13. He wore a baseball cap, colorful shorts and a t-shirt. His pride and joy was an electric scooter that he rode everywhere. At the time, the power at the pavilion was shut off, which upset Mike because he wanted to charge his scooter.
My first encounter with Mike was when he walked up to me and said "I'll give you 50 dollars if you'll turn on the power for the people, and not just for the mormons!" I explained that I didn't know how to turn the power on and I didn't have permission. He scoffed and zoomed away on his scooter. I later learned that he went on to offer my coworker 100 dollars to turn the power on.
Another day while I was pulling weeds, I ran into a couple of homeless guys who asked me the whereabouts of a missing knife. I told them I didn't have a clue. One of them asked me "How much do they pay you for that s***?" I told him $18.50. He asked if he could make as much. I almost told him that he had a fat chance of getting hired because of the drug tests and background checks, but his friend beat me to it. "They don't hire jailbirds like you!" he said.
Anyway, later I ran into Mike, who was laughing as he gleefully scraped paint off of his scooter with a shiny knife. I asked him where he got the knife and he said "finders keepers!" After he was done, he repainted the scooter with a new coat of paint. I saw over the course of the season that he changed the color of his scooter monthly and took great pride in it. He loaded so many bags of stuff on his scooter that it looked like Santa's sleigh from a christmas movie.
Mike was industrious. He would show up at the park at peak hours, bringing food and flowers, which he would sell to the park patrons at the pavilion. He also had a big boom box which he used to play pop music full blast.
