No Treble

“Good morning, Mr. Norton.”

If we were south of the Mason-Dixon, I’d think he was being respectful. But we’re not. I think the honorific implies he forgot my first name. That’s ok. I forgot his too.

It’s a little uncomfortable trusting someone you’ve just met with the foundation of your wall.

“Have you been to the site yet?” he asked, a little chewing tobacco pressed between his lower lip and front teeth.

That made me feel a little better. Almost every equipment operator I’ve ever worked with likes a little nicotine. The poor guy probably couldn’t get away with smoking on the job.

“She’s all prepped for you.”

Before he started, I communicated my needs for the base as best I could. Then I left him and his crew to it, taking a leap of faith that we had understood each other, even though we couldn’t remember each other’s names.

When I got back to the site, it was clear we had.