Just a bad day at work i guess...
If you watched the above brief video it clearly looks like this gentleman was having a bad start to his morning. Was he angry when he got off the truck, or was there was something foul in one of those bags or stuck pizza boxes in the can that set him off? Acting like punk rock singer Henry Rollins if he had never started a band, this was the garbage man from hell that went completely postal.
Wondering if Fed Ex was looking to hire this guy, I remembered one of our clueless neighbours that put a partially filled gallon of blue paint in the garbage bin and when some spilled on the sanitation engineer he took the liberty of throwing it on the side of my neighbor's house.
A Recycled Tale
My late father in law was a master recycler and composter. It came from his love of junk, and the challenge of not trying not to throw much out. He used cardboard boxes to recycle, and there was a real method to his madness. The recycling guys loved him, as they appreciated the way he recycled meticulously. They even brought him a bottle of wine every Christmas for doing such a great job.
After he passed, the family just mishmashed it all in the same old cardboard boxes, and basically let the recycling guys deal with it. My son Schuyleur, was continually getting angry because they refused to take the small empty yogurt cups he kept throwing in the box.He told me matter of factly that the side of the cup states that it is recyclable, so they HAVE to take it. Well every week 20 empty cups lay on the bottom of the box, refused once again due to the recyclers contract of no yogurt cups.
I basically thought I was doing a good job of carrying on the recycling tradition. Not as good as Nono, but better than the family perceived they were doing. This morning the recycling truck pulls up and looks at my soaking wet cardboard boxes that they use week after week. They were so disgusting, that the worker shot me a look that would kill the rest of the ozone layer. He throws the stuff into the truck and mumbles something to the driver. Two seconds later he stomps up to me and hands me a neon yellow warning paper that is soon becoming limp and useless with the rain pounding down on it.
I scan the "Sorry, we could not pick up all your recyclables for the reason marked below" card that was handed to me. What could I have possibly done wrong?
Way down at the bottom of the card in huge red capital letters it said:
"GET YOURSELF SOME BLUE BOXES, OR ELSE ! "
Okay, or else what?
Is there some sort of recycling mafia?
My angry son Schuyleur tells me we are no longer going to recycle, and are going to throw everything in the garbage if they are going to be like that.
Trying to think logically, unlike everyone else, I go to the Town Hall and a clerk hands me a form to sign out two blue boxes and asks me if we have ever had any before. I start to chuckle remembering the day the blue boxes got caught under my truck and traveled to the elementary kids school for a pickup and became the talk of the town.
I hear loud steps and see my Recycling Man walk in.
We look at each other like angry lovers and I start to wave the still damp notice-card in front of him. Weeping softly, I tell him about the yogurt cups, and my son's demands of possibly never recycling anymore.
He looks at me with large eyes like I just escaped a mental institution until I stop and say three words:
"It's the menopause."
He begins to smile and says calmly,
"That's all right Mam, you just have a a nice recycling day."
"And Mam? Just don't stop believing; maybe one day we will pick up those yogurt cups! "
So I dedicate this video to my recycling man.