I just love garbage men. Okay, trash men. Wait, waste collectors? Oh, I know, sanitation engineers. Or, maybe they're refuse removal technicians?
My guys ALWAYS take a moment to place (not throw) my cans back onto the sidewalk (not my next door neighbor's lawn) and move out of the way, so that I can get passed them and into my driveway, on my way home from dropping the kids at school.
Okay, let me repeat...THE GARBAGE TRUCK PULLS OVER TO ALLOW ME TO GET INTO MY DRIVEWAY...I love that!
The dude driving in the sparkly new Mercedes SUV, while STILL talking on his cellphone, this morning, not so much.
Or, maybe it was a Crossover (IDK) and he could have been just too busy discussing a very important business deal (I bet Donald Trump would pull over - if he drove his own car, I mean) either way, I guess expecting him to be nice would have been considered a luxury.
[slams on breaks]
"Move that piece of garbage!"
A few hours (not to mention, about a thousand expletives) later and I'm still at a loss as to what would provoke such an extremely well tailored young man to act like a snot-nosed little booger.
"UP YAWS, YUH BASSTED!!!"
MY trash guys, however, are like the cream in my McCafe and they obviously don't take very kindly to acts of random assness, either (thanks, Trash Guy!) and, well, I am very happy to report that chivalry is NOT dead!
"Yuh buhleeve that [expletive] guy?"
A little stinky...a bit crude, perhaps...but, then again, a little gah-bidge never hurt nobody, you know what I'm sayin?
"Man, he's got a potty mouth!"
[one beat, two beats]
"But, our garbage man is real nice...right mommy?"
There's a lesson in there, somewhere.
"He's a sanitation engineer, Sweetie."
Aaaaand, if you happen to find it, just throw it up on the curb, next to the cans, up there, okay?
Since, I'm probably STILL trying to make a left turn!
Aaaand, teaching my kids proper diction...Jersey style!
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