Sunday, November 5, 2017

Cooking at the Community College, #4, 'Gene'

Probably in his mid-fifties, he strolled through the food court area surveying choices, cold cases with prepared foods, beverage coolers with colorful, trendy products and fountain stations with inverted RC Cola cups, stacked in columns and at the ready.  A tray with Rice Krispie Treats in tidy plastic envelopes occupied one shelf, cookies the size of dinner plates sat shingled neatly next to an Italian pottery bowl of apples, oranges and bananas; Devil and Angel.  Finally, the ubiquitous 'Bagel with Cream Cheese', a throwback to the '70s, holding steady next to the not yet filled lunch crock pot of  'Soup of the Day.'

None of which impressed Gene, nor do they ever.  The man from Boise via Mollala, does like to take in the sights though, just in case there's something to entice his predictable tastes.  Invariably, he moseys on over to the griddle station, says hello and fills out a breakfast order ticket for a dish that is familiar, offering great value: two buttermilk pancakes the size of hubcaps, with two strips of bacon, cooked, but, not crisp.

"She wants me to pay for toilet paper, can ya believe that?!"  he calmly stated, fully expecting the absurdity of the statement required no voice intonation and my immediate concurrence.  His head was cocked slightly backwards, black rimmed glasses resting on the bottom third of his nose with every intent of seeing through them at this acute angle.  Unfortunately, being a mouth-breather, it makes him look cross-eyed and detracts from any thought emanating from his mouth. The comb-over haircut doesn't help matters any and putting a vest over yesterdays elk hunting shirt can't hide the fact that you're wearing the same clothes two days in a row...

"So, whaddya think about that?  $425 dollars a month for my room and she wants me to pay for toilet paper.  Doesn't seem right, does it?  To you, it don't seem right, does it?  I mean whadda YOU think about that?"
Gene was laying his case out in the court of common sense as his two pancakes got the flip.  It's hard to keep a straight face sometimes.  The faint whistles he makes when he speaks nearly kill me.  Looks like all his own teeth, but, s-words come out like he's calling a wayward pooch in from a morning shit on the front lawn.

"Ya know, with these hood fans right over my head," I called in an exaggerated manner, "it's hard to hear very well, but, I'll tell you what.  If you have a common restroom for multiple tenants, seems to me that the land lord should cover that expense, since you all don't have a private bath.  She's just trying to put that cost onto you...ain't right, Gene" I offered.

He nodded and grinned, giving his receding hairline a reassuring swipe with this left hand to confirm his stand and opinion on things.  Gene even seemed to bounce a time or two on his feet, giving it a 'Hell Yeah!" while bobbing his head.

"Movin' in with my daughter at the end of the month and gave my notice," he concluded, "so, ta hell with that landlord, anyways."
I assured him that was a sound and prudent move; being with family and closer to the community college was a win-win.

"So, what are you studying, right now?  What's your plan after completing your education?" I asked as I draped his frisbee-sized flapjacks on a plate.

"Well, I'm studyin' reading and math.  Never read so well and need to be better with numbers," he whispered across the sneeze guard.
"I'm on disability, ya know.  Got T-boned by a drunk when I was a cab driver in Portland.  Get $947. 32 per month.  The new rent will be $300, school is covered, take the bus, so, I got about $500 free money each month.  Pretty good, huh?"

"Reading and Math...what am I gonna do with it?" he beamed looking up from his pancakes,

"Enjoy Life more...!"


Thanks, Gene.


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