Janie's Worst Valentine's Day Ever (Archer Nelson)

Janie's Worst Valentine's Day Ever

Janie definitely could have had a better Valentine's Day. I mean, we knew weeks ago that it wasn't going to be great, when I found out I'd be traveling this week (and I don't mean to sound so conceited that I think a nice pretty woman can't have a good time if it doesn't somehow involve me, but I am her husband). So I made an extra effort to call her more than usual, and before I left town on Monday I took a nice card I'd written for her and I hid it in the kitchen behind the coffee maker, and I called her for the first time today about the time she should have gotten back home after bringing David to school.

"Happy Valentine's, Poopy-Butt," she said, using her cutest voice and favorite nickname for me, but also the saddest of her cute voices. "How's Oklahoma?"

"Snowing! It just melts on the street, but it's got people freaked out. At the rental place yesterday people were worried they wouldn't be giving out cars."

And so that's how it started---Janie's crappiest Valentine's since we met, maybe ever---talking about the weather.

"Have you made coffee yet?" I asked.

"No, you're the one who does that. It's sad waking up and not smelling it already."

"I'll talk you through it," I laugh.

"Oh! A Valentine for Janie! Thank you, Poop-head!" I can hear the envelope ripping open, even though I had only folded the flap under. She's quiet for a minute, reading the card while I try to recall what I wrote. "Thanks, Booger-nose. It's really nice."

"What's the matter?"

"Nothin'---I just don't want to go to work today."

"Me neither."

"You're already there," she says with a forced chuckle, but I can hear she's crying a little now. "It's just gotten so bad. Last night I wrote a letter of resignation and signed it and put it in my bag to bring along. Just in case."

Suddenly my earpiece is filled with painful crunching and scraping noises. Janie is scooping Iamb's Large Breed Weight Control dog food from the bin in the mudroom, and she must be reaching the bottom of the bin because it sounds like she has her whole head with the cordless phone still pinched between her shoulder and cheek, inside the bin while she scrapes the last chunks out.

"Getting low on dog food?" I ask.

"Yeah---when are you coming back? Maybe you can stop and pick up a couple more of the big bags on your way from the airport?" Then a crash and more painful clattering noises in my earpiece. I can hear Janie in the background now---she must have dropped the phone. Dozer, behave! Down!" Then a sharp crunching sound in my earpiece---a new one I haven't heard before. "Chumba! Drop it!" Wham! It sounds exactly like being inside a VTech cordless phone being dropped by a large male Rhodesian Ridgeback onto a cold Italian tile foyer. "Sorry, Dozer just about knocked me over getting to her dish first, and then Chumba tried to steal away with the phone."

"I'm sure he just wanted to say 'Hi.' He misses me. Hey, Have you spoken with Mario since Monday?"

"No, not since he made his offer. The dickhead is waiting for me to call him back."

"So, why not just call him and tell him you'll take the deal for now and see how it works out?"

"Because he's an asshole, not an idiot. He knows I can't make enough to bother showing up on the lousy little commission by itself. He's just trying to make me quit. He thinks that if I quit instead of him firing me, he won't have to pay unemployment."

"So, he is an idiot."

"That's what the letter is for. It just says that I'm resigning my position because it's clear from his intention to take my salary away and just leave the stupid little commission that's only $75 or $100 a week won't leave me with a living wage. It's just to cover me in case I have to file for unemployment and he wants to fight it."

"Smart."

"I called the Unemployment people. They told me to -- it." I miss a word while Janie's other line rings. "Just a sec---let me see who that is. Uggh---it's Mario. What should I do?"

"Answer it! He's still your boss."

"Okay. Thanks for the card, Poop. Call me later. Love you."

"Love you, too."

And I would have called her later, after my meeting at the Will Rogers Building next to the Capitol, but Janie rang my cell phone while I was driving my white Chevy HHR rental into the city on I40.

"Bastard!" She yelled.

"Me?"

"No, Fuckface Mario!"

"What did he do?"

"He told me he's moving me from Minneapolis to the Hudson store. What an ass!"

"Hudson?"

"Yes, redneck, seedcap, cheesehead Hudson-fucking-Wisconsin!"

"Why?"

"How do I know why---he's fuckhead Mario!" She's yelling.

"What did you say?"

"I wanted to tell him to shove his fucking Wisconsin showroom of speckled frizee carpets up his saggy ass, is what I wanted to say! Asshole---he was just afraid I wasn't going to quit, so he's making it even worse! Like I really want to go sell carpets in Wisconsin! Damn hunters and their cheddar-hipped farmwives coming in asking to see brighter shades of oatmeal---uggh!"

"Right, but what did you say to him?" I'm clicking the side button on the little eTrex Legend GPS that I've jammed between the windshield and the top of the dash, getting it to tell me which exit to take.

"Oh, don't worry. I just took my letter out of my purse and told him that's it---I'm done."

"Don't worry---you quit your job?" My turn is approaching, the GPS advises, so I signal a lane change.

"Damn right I did! I didn't get a college degree to sell Linoleum to rednecks---on a 2.5 percent commission! I told him I'm resigning and I'll mail my access card back with my letter of resignation. When are you coming home? Friday?"

"Yeah, Friday."

"Good. I think my last resume is on your laptop. Can you email it to me today?"

"Sure thing."

"All right. I need to call Jessie. He was meeting me for a housecall out in Nakomis. Love ya, Farty-Butt."

I follow my GPS's instruction to turn on Sheridan and then sit for what seems like minutes behind a woman in a pickup truck stopped at a green light and craning her head both ways---left and right, then left again, then right again, before finally creeping slowly across the intersection through the light dusting of snow.

Posted by Archer on February 15, 2007 12:49 PM | Permalink

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Janie's Worst Valentine's Day Ever

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