Hush, just for a second



I’ve been training this young kid at my job.

Well, I guess I shouldn’t call him a kid, he’s 25 years old. But when you are my age, anyone who doesn’t know who shot J.R. is considered a kid.

One of the things that I love about my job is that I usually work by myself. I don’t like anyone working with me. Or riding with me. Or talking to me during the day, really.

You see, I’ve got a certain way that I go about my job. There is usually a good bit of driving involved, so I listen to the radio a lot. And mostly, talk radio.

Until 9 a.m. , I listen to ESPN radio. After that, until 1 p.m. , I listen to more ESPN radio. From 1-5 p.m. I listen to political and news talk, and if I’m still in the truck after 5:00 there are these two guys that have a show just dedicated to guy talk.

But here’s the problem- this kid wants to yap, and yap, and yap. If he’s not telling me about his wife and son, he’s telling me about shark fishing on the coast. If it’s not that, it’s something else.

The thing about listening to talk radio is that you have to do just that; listen. You can’t be talking the whole time like you can while you listen to music. If a song comes on that you’ve heard a hundred times, it’s not big deal to talk through it or turn the radio down. Chances are, you’ll hear it again the next hour.

With talk radio, you only get one chance to hear what they have to say, so I need silence. Not with this cat, though. Silence must be the only word that isn’t in his vocabulary.

And he commits one of my worst pet-peeves almost daily. He talks on the phone loud enough for everyone within earshot to hear everything that he says. We’ve all been at a restaurant next to a table where someone is doing this, haven’t we? Not only do they force you to hear their voice, but they suck you into the conversation enough that you can pretty much tell what the party on the other line is saying, too. So now you are invested in a conversation that you didn’t care about in the first place.

All the talking is rough, but I can overlook it for another week or so. What happened Monday, though, cannot be so easily brushed off.

We were working in San Antonio , and it was about time for lunch. I told him that I knew this perfect little hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant, where the food was spicy and the prices were cheap.

“Ahh man,” he whined. “That barbecue stand down the street has been smelling good all morning, and I had my heart set on it. Do you mind if we grab something from there?”

Ah-yah-yah. Who goes to San Antonio and doesn’t want to eat Mexican food? That’s like flying to Italy and ordering a burger, or driving to New Orleans for a taco. You’ve got some of the best Mexican food in the state right at your fingertips, and you want to munch on dried up sausage? And anyway, I’ve already got my favorite barbecue place. After you’ve eaten at Toodie’s right here in Hearne , Texas , everything else pretty much falls short.

But my wife has been telling me for two weeks to be nice to this kid, so I gave in. I stomached the pork ribs, sawed my way through the brisket, and fought my way around the iced tea that came already heavily lemoned. I hate lemon in my tea.

Things could get worse later on this week, because we’ll be rooming together a few nights out on the road.

I’m telling you right now, people- if he snores, he’s outta there.

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