The Garbage Man
He looked like a bulldog coming across the street toward my front door. He was snarling and drooling and kicking up chunks of pavement. His teeth were showing, and I could see that he meant business. I looked away, but when I looked back he was still coming. He was on my front porch in no time. It was his front porch now. He rang the bell. I considered not answering, but while I was thinking about it my hand turned the knob and the door opened.
“You can’t put your garbage out on both sides of the street,” he said, still snarling.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I didn’t know.”
“We get paid based on cans we empty and there’s no profit in emptying the same cans twice. You have three over there.” He pointed at my row of cans. “I emptied them when they were on your side of the street,” he said.
I looked across the street, he was right there was my green recycling container full of cardboard that wouldn’t fit the first time I filled it because it was filled with newspaper and cans and bottles. The other two cans, also mine, once filled with standard fare were now filled with the remnants of a small construction project we had undertaken. They held bits of scrap lumber, empty paint cans, and such.
The city provides one recycling can, and one regular garbage can. You can request an additional can for an eight dollar a month surcharge. We pay the surcharge. Most of our neighbors survive with one recycling, and one regular can, we don’t. I know we should; I know we need to get off the consumerist treadmill and start living the simple life. I know we’d be happier, the environment would be happier, but our piggy habits are hard to break. Some of our neighbors also have additional cans, we are a select club, we consumerist assholes.
I’ve done it before, I’ve had a little extra trash and after he emptied it on our side of the street I refilled the can and put it on the neighbor’s side, but this wasn’t just a single can it was all three. One of my neighbors on the other side of the street was outside when I was taking my extra cans out. I was embarrassed, what must she be think? She looked my way, and although she was close enough to say something she just smiled and waved. When I started back across I saw her walk to our side of the street and retrieve a can, her can, a can that was emptied when the truck passed on our side. She was going to refill it to be emptied again on her side. She is definitely a member of the club.
I wasn’t sure how to talk to a bulldog, I didn’t want to take the full cans back, I didn’t want my garbage stacking up, but there he was still snarling and giving me the evil eye. I decided on a course of action, I’d grovel.
“I’m sorry,” I said. He was unmoved. It was clear I would have to do a lot better than just I’m sorry.
“We simply don’t have the time” he said. “I’m not going to work extra hours for nothing and that’s what happens when people like you put their trash out twice. Get another can from the City if you need more, and pay your fair share.”
The problem with that is that I feel guilty enough with the extra can I already have, I can’t imagine what the neighbors would say if we had three regular cans and a recycling can.
I donned my most sincere face and said, “I’m really sorry, and I understand that it’s not fair to you and It will never happen again.” The scowl on his face relaxed just a bit and his hackles were down. “I would really appreciate it if you could take it this one last time, and like I said It’ll never happen again, honest.”
He cocked his head to one side and looked at me. I could tell he was considering my request, but had I said the right thing, had he already made up his mind, he hesitated, “just this last time he said,” and then turned and left. I thanked him again, as he was walking away and went back inside. Would he change his mind on the way back across the street to his truck. Would my apology hold, he got back in his truck and pulled forward a few feet, stopped next to my cans and emptied them both. The truck for the recycling can will come later in the day, the question is will I be taking the final can back full or empty.
December 17th, 2007 at 10:20 am
I seem to recall seeing a Story of Stuff video on another blog…
December 17th, 2007 at 8:24 pm
I think that’s exactly what the fellow that had the encounter with the garbage man needs, a good kick in the butt to start him on the road to the simple life.
December 28th, 2007 at 9:58 pm
Before the simple life begins, one must eliminate his possessions, though. There’ll be an additional charge for that. Unless one finds the Great Solution … the untended dumpster. Nobody has revealed their locations to the Bulldog People.
December 28th, 2007 at 10:03 pm
Oh my goodness, it’s Kevin, what in the world is he doing here?
December 28th, 2007 at 10:43 pm
I’d never been inside before. It’s a very nice place. Expository wallpaper. Sound drifting into the windows on a somewhat pleasant day. In the distance, there’s a TV. Some man is selling something.
“Probably his soul” I said.
Norm looked at me, silently.
The grasshoppers remained oblivious, as they noisily devoured our flesh.
February 5th, 2008 at 11:54 am
I live in an apartment. We still create way more trash than we should, although it’s harder to measure since we share a row of cans downstairs. Still, I’m proud that we have managed to create about as much recycling as trash of late. It means alot of tearing apart and sorting but it’s worth it. Why? Because I love the looks I get walking down the hall with one of the community shopping carts overflowing with recycling. I like to imagine that the other residents see the moral superiority of my superior stack of recyclables. I conveniently ignore the fact that the look on their face is not envy but repulsion at the homeless man in dirty sweats and two days of beard walking his belongings down the hallway with scatters of paper floating to the floor behind him. We Americans have a long way to go.