The company is named Christian Curbside. They claim to be a hardworking Christian-based company with “strong moral values." Now, I am a non-secular utility service chooser. I don’t give a rat’s hiney if the guy who picks up my trash worships the devil as long as he shows up Monday and Friday mornings and makes it disappear.What my garbage man doesn’t know is that I can hear him from my window every garbage day. As good Christians do, he prays a lot. Through my window, I hear his prayers:
God,
Damn, stupid, bitch doesn’t listen to a thing I say – can’t put the f*$#&in’ cans in the right place.
~~~
Jesus Christ,
On a f#$&@in’ stick! What’s that bitch got in this can?
~~~
Holy Mary, Mother of Christ,
Can’t the stupid bitch understand English? I told her ‘put the f*$&%in’ cans on the other side of the driveway!
~~~
Amen, my brethren. I feel your pain. Not.
We are at war, the garbage man and I. For a year, we’ve been leaving notes for one another. He explains the garbage cans are to be exactly three feet from the road, on the left side of the driveway. I explain such placement will cause them to role down the hill, into the road and cause either a disastrous mess or traffic fatality. He tells me he is not contracted to walk the extra one foot to the only level place I can put them. I explain his supervisor has instructed me to leave them where they are. He tells me to put them on the other side of the driveway, exactly three feet from the curb. I put them there. In the ditch. The ditch exactly center of three feet from the curb. He throws the cans into the middle of the street, upon which they are smashed to smithereens by a dump truck.
I call and complain. I carefully explain the theoretic improbability of cans on wheels remaining in place on a hillside. I lay the entire history of the Great Garbage Can Wars before Miss Christian Customer Service. I even share with her the prayers of her good, Christian soldier of refuse. She says she’ll “ask him what he wants you to do,” and get back to me. What the hell?
She got back to me, all right. In a formal letter:
“Please leave the garbage cans three feet from the curb on the left side of the driveway.”
Bless you, and thank you for choosing Christian Curbside.
I tossed the letter in the trash and said a prayer:
God,
Damn good for nothing psychopathic, control freak garbage man. You are fired. I am changing companies.
Can I get an "AMEN!" ?
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At 1:28 AM,
Nancy -
At 8:06 AM,
Attila the Mom -
At 11:50 AM,
sume -
At 3:14 PM,
Nikki -
At 3:37 PM,
Unknown -
At 4:10 PM,
RhondaNancy: Welcome to my world and thanks for the comment.
ATM: I considered a hidden camera - mostly because his body language was even funnier than his "prayers."
Sume: I've always been terrible about remembering garbage day, too. This guy is just too scary to chase down.
Lady: Trash Power Syndrome, LOL!
Nikki: Too funny. I don't know what the hell he wanted. His physics tutor needs to send him a refund.
Admiral Poop: You can keep my ex MIL.
The reason the garbage dude pisses me off so much is we are the most polite, considerate consumers you've ever met. We recycle. We compost. We waste not, want not. We even pay our bill six months in advance.
Maybe it's the kitty litter he has a problem with. -
At 5:49 PM,
Kim Ayres -
At 8:55 AM,
Mia -
At 9:53 AM,
St Jude
I'm at work doing a double shift at the hospital and I was blog surfing and happened upon your blog. I enjoyed reading it. I am also a transplant to the New England...MA from Minnesota. It's like a different planet here. :)