My guess is that they're figuring out another
way to get me written up. Twice this month, I've been pushed
off the game, sent up to the pit office, informed of my latest
sin, asked to sign this newest work history entry, warned to
straighten up and fly right, then told to return to my game
where my crewmates look at me with concern-or with relief that
I wasn't fired.
Which may or may not happen the next time. Normally, it's three
strikes and you're out, but with my time in, they may give me
an extra at bat.
That's how they nail you here. They build a case against you,
document everything in writing, and make you initial each entry
to show that everything has been above board. When there's enough
entries, they wave your work history in front of you like it's
a big surprise. They've already got me down for not picking
up a losing bet, which is pure crap, and for totaling payoffs,
a procedure violation that is common practice anywhere else.
I almost smiled when I read that one. I was surprised the observation
boys had figured out what I was doing.
"Dead Bob's Story" first appeared
in the Spring/Summer 1997 issue of The Nebraska Review.