An excerpt

Mr. Howard settled back in his chair.  "I'm not about to hire someone I can't trust, but I'm also not about to lose a good employee to malicious gossip.  How 'bout you shed some light on your side of these stories and let me decide for myself?  Let's start with your most recent job.  Wasn't that over at the cannery in Marsden?"
 
- - - - -

The Marsden Cannery had been a disaster.  Desperate for some income, Alex had let an old high school buddy talk him into taking a job stacking pallets on the loading docks.  He had only been there a few weeks when he overheard Vinnie Henderson, one of the warehouse managers, shouting at another employee.

"What are you, retarded?" Vinnie yelled.  "Sometimes I think you must be an ass dressed up in people clothes, 'cause that's how fuckin' stupid you are.  How many goddamn times do I gotta tell you to put the red pallets on the right and the green pallets on the left?  Fer'chrissake, Big Eddie.  Use yer fuckin' head."  Big Eddie cowered as Vinnie threw the red pallet he was holding down with a crash and stormed out of the room.  Big Eddie stared at the door for a moment before picking up the offending pallet.  He looked at it carefully for some time before taking a hesitant step toward the pile on the left.  He paused and glanced at the door through which the angry manager had just disappeared.

One look at his furrowed brow and downturned mouth made it clear that he didn't know where to put the pallet in his hand.  Big Eddie's distinctively rounded face and upward slanting eyes made it obvious at first glance that he had Down's Syndrome.  He came over from the Frost Lake Group Home a couple of times a week to sweep up and help with the pallets.  He had been one of the first to welcome Alex to the cannery, and they had quickly become friends.  Alex walked around the corner and greeted Big Eddie with a smile.

"Hey, Big Eddie!  How are ya?"  He slapped Eddie playfully on the back.  "Did you catch the Twins game last night?  How 'bout that last minute homer?"

Big Eddie's face lit up.  "Hi, Alex," he said.  "Yes, I watched the game.  I always watch the Twins.  I was afraid they were going to lose, but then they didn't.  Did you watch the game?"

"You know I did," laughed Alex.  "I'm just like you.  I always watch the Twins."  He looked at the pallet that was still in Big Eddie's hands.  "You want a hand with that, Big Eddie?"

The frown returned to Eddie's face.  "Red pallets on the right.  They both start with "r"."  There was a touch of defiance in the eyes that met Alex's.  "I'm not stupid.  I'm good at remembering things."

"I know you are, Eddie.  I know you are," Alex said.  "You're the only one who knew what Ramirez's batting average was last year, aren't you?  Vinnie just got upset."

"I'm not stupid," Big Eddie repeated.  "I don't know why he has to be so mean to me.  It's not fair for him to yell at me when they're all the same.  I am putting the red pallets on the right."  Eddie's voice shook slightly.

"Don't worry, Eds," Alex said.  Suddenly a thought occured to him.  "Hey, Big Eddie, what color are my shoes?"

Big Eddie looked down at Alex's lime green Converse sneakers.  "That's a silly question, Alex.  Your shoes are red."  Suddenly he frowned again.  "Aren't they?"

"I think I know what the problem is, Big Eddie.  Has anyone ever told you that you were color blind?"

Eddie laughed.  "I am not blind, Alex.  I can see!"  He laughed again at the sheer ridiculousness of Alex's question.

"Not blind, Eds.  Color blind.  That means that your eyes can't tell the difference between certain colors, like red and green.  Lots of guys are color blind.  It's no big deal."  Alex smiled at Big Eddie.

"It is a big deal!  I don't like to be yelled at."  Eddie's voice rose.  "I don't like when Mr. Vincent says those things to me."  At that point a truck had pulled up.  Before heading back to work, Alex had assured Eddie that he would come up with a solution.  Before that had happened, though, Big Eddie had had another run in with Vincent Henderson, manager extraordinaire. 

Once again, Alex had heard Vinnie yelling from the warehouse floor.  "Dammit, Eddie.  I've had it with your dumbass mistakes around here.  I don't know why we let a retard like you in the building.  Pick up that fuckin' broom and clean this mess up.  Then get the hell out of here.  I don't want to look at your stupid face anymore."  Vinnie stood over Big Eddie as he fumbled with the broom and dust pan.  Eddie widened his stance and bent at the waist, reaching down to push the collected debris into the pan.

Alex tensed as Vinnie, a nasty gleam in his eye, leaned back against the wall.  Vinnie slowly lifted his right foot and aimed it at Big Eddie's butt.  Everything suddenly seemed to be in slow motion as Alex broke from his hiding place and sprinted the short distance across the floor.  He tackled Vinnie to the ground just as Vinnie's foot connected with Big Eddie's behind.  All three men went sprawling.  Big Eddie landed heavily on his knees in the pile of garbage he had been trying to pick up.  The manager flew a short distance before hitting the warehouse floor with a thud.  He slid into a stack of precariously balanced pallets which spilled noisily across the floor.  Alex landed on top of him.

"What the f...?" was all Vinnie had time to shout before Alex landed a solid right hook on his jaw.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Alex yelled.  He was winding up for another punch when he was dragged off the manager.  Adam and Frankie held him back while Donovan leaned over Vinnie and pulled him to his feet.  A couple of ladies Alex didn't know were talking to Big Eddie and helping him up.  "Always yelling at Big Eddie and treating him like dirt.  You oughta be ashamed of yourself."  He shook his arms free and looked around.  "Did you all see what he just did?  He kicked Big Eddie."  The rest of the warehouse employees looked at each other and shook their heads.

"We were all in the breakroom, Alex," said Adam.  "We just came out 'cause we heard the crash."

There were murmurs of agreement from those standing around.  Vinnie, having recovered from the shock of the sudden attack, faced Alex.  "You are in a whole heap o' trouble now, buddy!  You just wait until I write this up.  You are gonna get fired so fast, you're head'll spin." 

Alex knew that the upstairs bosses would never believe the word of a brand new employee with a questionable employment record over that of a long time manager who also happened to be the big boss's son.  "Don't bother writing up your damned report, Vinnie.  I'll save you the trouble.  I quit.  But you can be sure that I'm going to be letting the folks at the group home know what I saw here today, and someday you're gonna get caught.  You better watch your back."  He tossed his work gloves to Donovan and headed toward the breakroom.  "I'm outta here."

After clocking out for the last time, he stopped by the table where Adam and the rest of the guys were finishing their lunch.  "Hey, Adam.  Do me a favor?  Tell Big Eddie that the red pallets have numbers etched into the sides, but the green ones don't."

That was pretty much the end of the story.  The next day, he had called the Frost Lake Group Home and told them what had happened.  They had thanked him for the information and said they would talk to Big Eddie.  About a week later, he had gotten a threatening letter from the cannery's lawyers basically telling him that there was no evidence to back up his story and if he shared it with anyone else they would sue him for slander.  They also made a big deal out of how generous they were being by not charging him with assault.  Since he had already made sure that Big Eddie was protected, and he couldn't afford any trouble, he had kept silent about it since then.

- - - - -

"Well, son?"  Alex snapped out of his thoughts.  Mr. Howard was looking at him oddly.  "I asked about what happened at the Marsden Cannery.  Anything you want to tell me?"

"All I can say, sir... I mean, Jake, is that I had a difference of opinion with one of the managers there.  I let my temper get the best of me and I made some bad choices.  You can trust that it won't happen again."

"Hmmm."  Mr. Howard looked as though he were going to press the issue, but apparently decided to let it go.  "Alright.  What about the job before that?  What happened at the Cub Foods?  The owner, Jeff, is a poker buddy of mine.  When I asked he said you seemed to think you only had to show up for work when you felt like it."