From The Vault

This one is a favorite of mine written a couple years back and recently rediscovered. Enjoy...

'A Woman Sinks a Man'



I was washing dishes in the kitchen when he shuffled into the room. I glanced up from the sink and said, "Hey Grandpa." He didn't look at me but he offered a half wave as he sat down at the kitchen table. He did not say a word he just sat and stared out the window at nothing in particular. I continued to wash the dishes and finish scrubbing the pots and pans. Twenty minutes rolled by and I periodically would glance over my shoulder to see if he was still sitting there. He just sat there, motionless and continued to stare out the window at nothing. I finished scrubbing the last pot, turned off the water and sat at the table across from my Grandfather. As if we had been in the middle of a conversation he glanced at me and suddenly spit out,

"A woman can sink a man."

He sighed and opened his mouth a second as if to continue but seemed to think better and closed his mouth and returned his gaze to somewhere outside. I was not clear as to what he meant but figured it may have something to do with his Navy days. Grandpa would sometimes talk about his ship, serving in the navy, the big one, what have you fairly randomly. Is this what he meant now?

"Was that the ship you were on Grandpa?"

He seemed to snap to on that and his steel grey eyes flicked to my face, then squinted in what may have been suspicion.

"A ship? What are you talking about, boy?"

Embarrassment quickly slapped my face and I felt it run hot as it turned red.

"I, uh, I thought um...Well, what were you talking about, Pa?"

A small bolt of frustration flitted through his eyes.

"What am I talking about?" He grunted, "A woman. You know what they are, don't you?"

"Um, yeah?"

"Well, a woman can sink a man, OK? That's what I am saying."

I searched the surface of the table for some explanation. My eyes appeared as clueless as I was and Grandpa noticed.

"I'm sunk, son. Your Grandmother sunk me." This realization seemed to sadden Grandpa an his eyes appeared to twinkle as tears began to well up. He fought them away by sniffing sharply and rubbing them out of his eyes. I still did not fully understand but I nodded anyway.

"Ya see, boy, marriage is a bitch."

This suprised me as I seldom, if ever, hear my Grandfather swear. An occasional 'bastard' here or 'dammit' there but even those were rare and most often related to traffic. He continued.

"They start out so young and pretty, don't they? You'd do anything in the world to make them smile. Then after a year or two that all starts to fade, the sex life goes out the window and you wake up one day and realize that your marriage has become some kind of competition. A competition that you can only lose! Everything becomes an argument. Everything becomes a God damn compromise."

I raised my eyebrows, which seemed to register slightly with Grandpa but he continued anyway, getting angrier as he went.

"For forty years I have had to do everything her way. This morning I woke up and noticed that my life went down a sinkhole...I don't know when it did, I didn't even notice I was suffocated until today."

He paused a moment and stared into my still not really understanding eyes. He studied me another moment, looked back out the window and then back again with some intention of continuing. He seemed to think better of this and looked back out the window.

"Grandpa? Why are you telling me this?"

He didn't look at me this time.

"For the love of God, boy, do yourself a favor don't get married." He turned back to me with a very intent look. "Can you promise me that? If I ever taught you anything I taught you to never get fucking married! Ok?"

My mouth dropped open, I can see dammit, bastard and I can forgive bitch. I'll even ignore the reference to his 'sex life,' which is something I definitely do not want to know about, but the 'F word?' That's a little too much.

"Grandpa, you're swearing, Mom wouldn't like to know..."

He cutt me off abruptly.

"Better leave your Mom out of this, 'kay sport. I'm talking here, to you. Just me and you, alright? Man to man, and I am telling you the best advice I got right now. Do not get married, boy. Hear me? Don't do it. It will suck your life away. You may not know about getting laid now..."

"I know what it is!"

"Oh yeah? You been with some women already?"

"Well, no but I know what it means."

"Good, now shut up and listen, once you start doing it you're not going to stop, ok? You're not gonna' want to stop. Then one day you're gonna' meet this real looker. You're gonna' meet her and you're gonna' fall in love with her. The sex is gonna' seem perfect and you're gonna' lay awake some nights and you're gonna' think about what a great life you're gonna' have together. You're gonna' start buying her shit, you're gonna' take her to the zoo, or some art museum that you normally wouldn't be caught dead in. You'll skip and dance and hold hands and kiss her ass right in the middle of Marshall Field's God forsaken appliance department. Then, without even questioning what you are doing, you will find yourself standing at that alter with a big stupid grin on your face and you will be sure to think that you got yourself some steady pussy for the rest of your life!"

My eyes went wide as I covered my mouth in shock; My grandpa just said 'pussy!' As if he read my mind he paused a second and said,

"That's right, boy, I just said pussy and I'll say it again! Pussy, pussy, pussy. A great, big, hairy pussy! You like that!? Never thought you'd hear Grandpa say that, did you?"

He laughed. I shook my head in disbelief, not knowing how to respond to this. Naturally, I have heard the word from friends and cousins thousands of times but it was coming from my Grandpa's mouth and it just didn't seem natural.

"Oh come on boy! It's just a word. It's not as if I am telling you about your Grandmother's pussy?"

I waved a hand in his face and closed my eyes in protest. This made him chuckle.

"Relax boy, were having a man to man here. You'll value this talk a lot more down the road. Well, here's the news, boy. Marriage is not the cavalcade of pussy that you'd think it was. Oh no, for maybe the first six months it's sex paradise then a year goes by, then two, then ten, and you won't even know what happened! It just stops! You don't have sex anymore and instead you have matching towels and rugs in your bathroom. You're getting yelled at for using the wrong soap. Your shelves become entirely filled with six thousand different bullshit porcelain statues. Then, one day a huge, God Damn, crucified Jesus Christ appears over your bed and, should a bleedin' miracle occur, and you actually do have sex with your wife. You gotta' watch fucking Jesus Christ himself watch you get it on. Can you imagine how terrible that is?"

His face was beet red and he had been pounding the kitchen table to punctuate just how terrible he thought it was to be sexually evaluated by Jesus Christ. I, however, was in a mild state of shock that this litany of profanity and personal information was spilling out of my Grandfather. He stopped speaking and looked at me with furious eyes, he seemed to expect a response.

"I, um, I don't know what to say?"

Grandpa seemed incredulous.

"Say you'll never get married, boy! Say that you hear me! Say that once you start fucking women you don't stop! Don't pick one to hang on to, she'll just suck your soul dry, boy. Fuck 'em long, fuck 'em hard and get the fuck outta' there, boy! There's something I learned in the navy, boy. How do ya like that?"

My mouth fell open again, I was dismayed, confused, offended all at once. Just then I heard my Grandmother call from upstairs.

"Arthur are you down there?"

Grandpa rolled his eyes.

"Oh God Dammit, would you tell her I went for a God damn walk?"

He stood up and shuffled over to the door and let himself outside, muttering to himself, "God damn Jesus, God damn Christ, God dammit..." He snapped the door closed behind him and I watched him disappear down the front walk. I stared after him while feeling as if I had just been slapped. My Grandmother appeared from the living room.

"Where's your Grandpa?" She said in a short manner. I looked at her with my eyes wider than usual.

"He said he was going for a God Damn walk."

Grandma's mouth dropped open a second, her eyes wnet wide but quickly wnet back into a skeptical squint.

"He said that?"

I nodded.

"Hmm. Well, did he happen to tell you what he did with our crucifix? It disappeared this morning and when I asked him about it he started carrying on and yelling liek a crazy person. He didn't swear at you, did he?"

I nodded.

"Oh Joseph and Mary, I am sorry sweetie he has been a crotchity old man latley. So, he didn't mention the crucifix?"

I shook my head, "Maybe it's in the garbage?" Grandma looked at me doubtfully.

"Why would you say that?"

"Dunno, I just get the impression he was mad about that and maybe he threw it away?"

Grandma crossed herself and murmured, "lets just see" under her breath. Sure enough she found her crucifix broken in the garbage can behind their house. She was not pleased and when she cam back into the kitchen she thanked me for visiting, gave me five dollars for helping with the dishes and asked me to leave as she and Grandpa were going to need to talk alone. I took my money and left. My Grandpa never spoke to me like that again. Nor did he ever mention what he said to me again. No apologies either. I never looked at him quite the same way after that night.

Captain Crazypants II: What's WRONG with that guy?

Every good story deserves a sequel of less quality. Captain Crazypants is no exception! The original Crazypants stories have captured the imagination of about all who have read or been told the tales. After telling these tales I am often peppered with many questions about who is the Captain and is he really that crazy? I assure you that he really is and for this installment I have elected to go into more detail (again without revealing names and locations to keep myself protected legally) about this man who, without a doubt, has been the single most insane and awful boss I have ever experienced. That is really saying something as I have had a lot of jobs and a lot of bosses...The Captain takes the cake, hands down.

The most common question I get is, "Did he really ask you to collect all the doorstops in the facility and why?!" That is the absolute truth, he really asked me to collect the doorstops from all over the facility, wipe them up and store them in one place. Then I absolutely had to leave a note for his secretary so she can make a sign indicating to all that this is where the doorstops go. He carefully explained this task to me about three or four times as he is fairly repetitive and seemed to think that I might be deaf or perhaps he thought I spoke limited English. This task had to be done right away because;

"You never know when we'll have a special event all of the sudden and we will need to prop open all the doors at once!"

Why? Well, you see, the Captain has some kind of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) attached to an insatiable need to be the company facility manager ( in addition to the sales director, marketing director, HR Department, and 100 other jobs that the company President in ‘regular world’ need never worry about) coupled with everyone's favorite trait...CONTROL FREAK!

I am no psychiatrist so I am not qualified to officially diagnosis the Captain however, I am certain that he has this disorder based on the unofficial opinion of a psychiatrist I know and the basic insanity of being employed by this rube. In addition to worrying incessantly about all the wrong things and firmly believing that our company can sell our product solely based upon the appearance of our facility, the paint job and most especially the furniture. He also had an absurd management style with absolutely no regard to employee morale, in fact, I believe he thought we were all just yappy muppets that he is paying to waste all his money. The Captain, as well as his #2 the business manager, always acted as if the company budget was actually their own personal cash. To get anything done like hire a temporary worker, have some promotional materials produced, or even ordering office supplies it was akin to asking your dad for $20 when you both know you didn’t wash the car that day. A good manager generally will have a team of employees of various rank and position who he/she respects and listens to. Decisions are made by initiating a quality give and take between the manager and his/her employees which can be best achieved with meetings, memos, clear communication and a little thing called listening.

In the Captain's case, there was none of that as he never, ever listened nor was he interested in any other opinions other than his own ever. The Captain's idea of a good employee was someone who simply ran around in little circles saying, "Yes sir, of course sir" at all times and never, ever question anything the Captain says. The Captain also prefers that the employees rarely, if ever, communicate to each other. Should he find out that an employee talked to co-worker and in any way, shape or form question the good Captain that employee is then marked as a gossip and will quickly find his or herself barred from any discussions relevant to the operation of the business. When that happened to me the Captain began to completely disregard my existence and there were whole weeks where he wouldn't even look in my direction. Then came the layoff…

This occurred due to my questioning of the “controls” put in place with the arrival of our new computers (see 'Dirty Chair Wheels" in ‘Crazypants.’) With a new, higher tech network in place the Captain realized that this gave him an opportunity for more control. He wanted to be sure to block out certain aspects of the computer world such as porn, gambling and he'd hope shopping on the internet. Not the worst of ideas, but he also realized that the sales team had spent a lot of their time playing video games on their computers rather than spending all their time on the phones selling the product (there are reasons why we didn't call much will I'll get to soon.) So, he told the IT consultants (we had no full time IT staff as that would cost too much) to be sure to block out the 'games' from the computers. Which they promptly did by blocking out the solitaire, minesweeper, spider, etc. feature on Windows. Not a big deal as no one really played those games much as the internet games were so much better. Though the Captain understood what computers were and how to get IT consultants to do things he wants the stark reality for the Captain was that besides, “talking the talk” he simply could never, “walk the walk” when it came to computers. He never sent e-mail and we believe he didn’t know how to use this e-mail. I once gave him a CD-RW of some marketing materials I made and he got pissed at me because he couldn’t save anything on the disc. He knew how to operate those floppy things by simply clicking ‘save.’

“Why wont this damn CD work!? This is all my damn, gossipy employee’s fault!”

It so happened that my computer was blocked first and this bothered me as I had mentioned to the business manager that as soon as you start being the internet police that will become a full time job turning the few employees we had against the management. I also suggested that if there is a perceived 'problem' then it might be prudent to mention it to someone. Have a staff meeting (something that NEVER happened) or perhaps a simple memo detailing the 'rules' which also never occurred. Instead the Captain had the games blocked and one by one various employees began to notice and wondered, "What the fuck is wrong with the computers?" I also happened to mention that this was happening to a couple of different co-workers and additional employee, all by himself, actually approached the IT consultants (the message that came up when you attempted to access the games said "contact the IT staff”) and asked what was wrong with the computers. The Captain heard from 'someone' that I had been complaining about the games being blocked and assumed it was I who dared approach the IT consultants.

At this point, you might wonder, where is the problem? To the Captain, it was a huge problem! He never, ever spoke to me about any of this and told another co-worker that he was REALLY MAD at me for spreading rumors, complaining and assumed I was also pissed at the Captain for daring to block the solitaire. None of which was true. He never listened, jump to his own crazy-ass conclusion and this is why I believe I was ultimately laid off. How could he employ someone who is so clearly out to get him and his roody-poo company with such insidious gossip. I was no longer running in little circles saying, "Yes sir!" I had turned against him and was attempting to turn the rest of the staff against him as well. At least, that is what I think he thought as he never communicated anything to me and the only reason I know any of this is based on what other employees said the Captain said to them. Nice management style, eh?

The reason we spent time playing games in the first place was due to having hardly anyone to call to sell our product to. Our product is a significant investment that is not readily 'sellable' to anyone via cold calling and we could really only sell the product to those in specific need of our services who generally found us. The trick was to find us. We didn't advertise, we weren't listed in any guide books with-in our field, we weren't even in but one of the six area phone books. The one we we're in had no ad, just a simple listing. The Captain had promised the company board that with-in three years he would raise the number of sales from about 450 to an incredible 1,200. When hired I was told that that particular quarter we had sold 450 units, after a month or so I happened to learn that the Captain also liked his exaggerations and the actual number of units sold was a paltry 300. We struggled through the whole next quarter and was unable to change that number at all and by the spring quarter we still had a mere 300 sold. In summer, that number dropped to 136 which is reason #2 I was laid off as the budget was now in a severe deficit and they could no longer afford me, "Nothing personal! It's just business."

Another reason I was tagged as someone who is against the Captain is because I have a lot of experience selling this same kind of product and I know for a fact that the sale of the product cannot be supported without some simple, common, everyday advertising, brochures and a number of other marketing materials. Even with all those things in place it can be challenging to sell such a product. The Captain insisted that we did not need advertising as that would be just "spending money" and wouldn't yield any clients. I maintained that all out competitors advertised often and fiercely and this left us in the shadows. When a prospective client ever heard about us, undoubtedly, they would look in the paper, or a listing guide to see how we measure up. When we weren't present in any of these (or any other area) it instantly detracted from our credibility. The Captain maintained that those kinds of ads were simply there to re-affirm already sold clients in their purchase, not unlike a car commercial. This was so dead wrong it often became difficult to stifle laughter in the Captain's face. Thus instead of listening to reason the Captain simply thought I was a dissenter. In fact, after arguing with him on several different occasions about how advertising (even a little) would definitely increase the number of leads and prospective clients he finally snapped at me, "How many times do I have to tell you!? WE DON'T ADVERTISE!" This declaration took me by surprise, while he often argued against advertising he always seemed to think that soon we would...He never said that he wouldn't advertise ever until he finally figured it would shut me up.

The Captain never listened to anyone, if you ever had to tell him anything or try to even have a regular conversation he would always cut you off mid-sentence, always with an asinine assumption as to what you were going to say. He often would offer some kind of shitty analogy or story about his past to explain how your idea was wrong. After several months I had heard the same stories so many times I could recite them myself, often doing a pretty killer impersonation of the Captain which entertained many a co-worker. If, by some miracle, he did shut his little yap long enough for you to speak he would often chew on the arm of his glasses and his eyes would flick left and right real fast giving you the distinct impression that he wasn't actually listening to you at all. Then he probably would come back with another useless story about how things used to be, or how he did things back in the '80's and blah blah blah.

Captain Crazypants is an older man, not sure exactly how old but I would suppose somewhere in his early sixties. Along with his control freakiness, his obsession with facility and a distinct inability to listen to anyone he also has a collection of strange nervous ticks. He is a very short, bald man with a trimmed, white beard and a circle of white hair. He also had beady little eyes that never seemed to stop flicking everywhere. I have it on good authority that when he opens file cabinet drawers he would pull them open and then shut them three times before going in and then open and slam them shut three more times with a good shake to be sure they are closed and locked. His paranoia was fairly intense and he always acted as if there were people ‘out there somewhere’ plotting to get in to the files, or the offices, or supply closets. When long time co-workers were suddenly ‘let go’ (happened about every 3 months or so, ya know, so he could exert his authority) the now ex-employees were always escorted out of the building by the security guard and another trusted staff member. Once on the street the ex-employee is then instructed that he/she can no longer enter the building with-out calling ahead so they can arrange for the security guard to escort him or her into our well protected, rented in a large, public office building space.


The best tick the Captain had was this totally bizarre habit of grabbing and adjusting his crotch while in conversation. No one knew why? Did he have scabies? Crabs? One co-worker thought maybe he had a lot of junk to move around down there. I thought maybe it was a 'around the guys' kind of thing but when I mentioned it to a female co-worker she said she had noticed it as well and often worried he would do it in front of clients or other company visitors. I think he actually did but most people are polite and usually don't mention it. IN fact, when I came on board I was one of the first to notice this habit out loud and eventually it became a trademark gesture among co-workers when doing the Captain's absurd business.

For instance, you would see the Support Services manager doing something so far outside of his job description you would ask him, "What the fuck are you doing?" He would then roll his eyes and grab at his crotch and you instantly knew he was doing some totally pointless errand for the Captain (ala collecting doorstops) and nothing more would need to be said. Collecting doorstops was not the only crazy crap he would need done and always right away. One of the companies lawyers had stopped by one evening, shortly after a new paintjob was finished in several offices, and the Captain told him to go into the offices with the lights out and a flashlight to "inspect the work done." The Captain always was sure that any contract work or furniture delivered would be defective as those people were not as adept at whatever as the Captain was. So, here’s a professional, seasoned lawyer in a dark office inspecting the newly painted walls with a flashlight and wondering what the fuck was he supposed to be looking for?! He never found out as the Captain never explained what he should be looking for. The Captain rarely explained anything and when he did it often would befuddle you even more. After some time, when you get sort of used to him, you tend to just do his absurd jobs and think about maybe writing about it or something.

Stay tuned for Part III which will tell about the symmetrical furniture of doom and the importance of the company frisbees...