Three of Pentacles

In The Mountains—DUSK

While I wait for the rest of the crew to finish up. I look in the bushes by our old cargo van; I am pretty sure the last time I saw my watch, I was machete-ing through the brush here.

Hate to lose it. Track of time, that is.

Although it is only 4:30 PM, it is already dark and as the crew reassembles, Sailor and I discuss that while the Boss wants us to work till at least 5 PM, it really is impossible. Besides, we have all worked a very long and rough day in the brush anyway.

The last technician, one of our newbies, a redhead, finally emerges from the bushes. She loads her equipment and herself into the van with the rest of us, all the while complaining about the jokes made about her by the more seasoned crew. “Don’t worry, you’re a rubbergasket,” says the Sailor from the driver’s seat as we soon coast the long winding road, “Those things just bounce off your chest.”

“And you’re a pennyloafer, Sailor Lou.” I joke at him from the passenger’s side, “We only pay you pennies so you just loaf around.” We talk about what comedian used to make dumb jokes like, glad to be on a new subject.

With the van packed with a van mix of the old and newer crew members, it strikes me how people are the same all over, and I say as much:

“It strikes me how people are the same all over,” I sigh. “Funny, really. Each crew has its joker, its show-off, etc. It is like a parallel dimensional mix up from some cartoon show. Meanwhile he redhead is complaining again as the sun pulls back behind the Mountains.

“Listen, we don’t even need you,” I joke. “You are just new. We already have a Complainer on the crew. Right Lou?”

She says, “You wouldn’t say that if I weren’t a redhead.”

“Well, we already have a redhead, so we don’t need you regardless."

“No you don’t.”

“We don’t?”

“Just me. Far as I can see.”

I don’t like the accusatory tone, so I drop the conversation and sit quietly as Sailor drives.

As I try to think about something else, I accidentally pick up a bottle of dish detergent off the dash console instead of my water bottle to take a drink.

At length, the Sailor asks what my salary is and I hesitate because I probably make a lot more then him. Although not nearly enough, and without any savings to fall back on.

Mary chimes in from the back “I get $50 an hour. I think.” and I realize we are only talking about how much we are billed for, not what we are actually paid.

“Anyway,” I explain, “I don’t know the easy answer, as our commercial rates are dependent on our contract.” I use an example of one our contracts showing how I am billed and my qualifications. “My job duties for this project cover a bunch of equipment and vehicles (such as pontoon boats) which I have never used nor can foresee needing up here In The Mountains.”

As I joke about this, someone requests we pull in at a little roadside stand. The Sailor stops and we get out of the van and mill around still discussing contract rates and find the booth we are in front of is selling carpets. The woman manning the stand is soon very angry that we aren’t ordering anything. She wants to close up for the day. Lou tells her to go ahead and we just pile back into the van.

Sailor Lou pulls us back unto the parkway in the dented crew van, while Mary is now complaining about the route. Specifically, there is a road crew felling black locust trees along the side of the road. Its backed up traffic on the narrow mountain pass as they are indiscriminately letting them drop roll pell mell down the hillside.

We decide to pull over again. This time at a scenic overlook.

O

ut of the van I find a large locust branch at the top of the bluff and decide to roll it off with the others. I spot a Mary and the redhead sitting by the edge a second to late. I watch the log roll, thinking there is no way it will hit them. Then it takes a foul bump and heads in their direction.

I yell, “Watch out for the log!” Just in time for them to look up at it barreling down on them. Luckily it misses. Mary and the redhead watch the scene with disapproval, not acknowledging their near brush with death. They just resume their conversation about the new technology we could adapt for our use surveying. 

By way of apology, I send Lou to the trunk to get the new metal detector the Boss has bought to try out In The Mountains.

It’s almost dark now. Where has the day gone?