Free At Last

Last week was lousy. I had to work with Neil four out of five days. This week was looking the same. It's stressful, I must say. Although we don't talk and we don't fight, I still feel prickly to be in his presence. I am serious, Ms J. The man is evil. He frightens me and so does my reaction to him. I sit there, manipulating the controls of the locomotive and rehearsing what I'll say if he attempts any conversation. I just don't like the guy. And I don't want to talk to him.

A few days before Neil came to work on my train, I was quite vociferous in expressing my distain for him. I told anyone who'd listen.

"I don't like the sonofabitch and I don't want to work with him. I have nothing to say to him and I don't want to hear his voice. I can't even look at him. Every time I see his face, I want to bury my fist in it."

Usually, I wasn't so gentle in my reproach. Tongues began wagging. I knew they would. Word gets around. Neil arrived knowing he wasn't welcome. I had hoped he might change his mind and go on another train. But he didn't.

You know, Ms J, I try to do the right thing. I really do. I'm a good friend, a caring father, generous, kind (usually), tolerant (of most people). But I cannot suffer another minute with Neil. I will not. I make no apologies. Not to Neil and not to anyone. I cannot forgive him for the way he treated me in the weeks that preceded my accident last year.

Effective this morning, I am off that train. I've bid successfully on a different run. A different train. It's only temporary, Ms J. It's only for a few weeks. But it'll be like a vacation to be rid of that detestable man and his arrogance and criticism and negativity. And with any luck, he'll be gone from Job 10 when I return.

You're an arsehole, Neil. You make a good case for adding extra chlorine to the gene pool.

Alright then. Enough about Neil. Let's move on now, shall we?

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