Winston Winning part II

If you liked part 1 I humbly submit part 2. Follow my Blog for more

The back to work training program building smelled like urine, sex and shattered dreams. 

He hadn't seen this much Sean John and Roca wear since he left Milwaukee. The people who had money in the city were wearing True Religion and Robin Jeans these people were like him, poor. Winston had come to the harsh realization that he was a bum.

 He and Dave had turned half of his EBT into cash by buying the pirate cigarettes from a Bodega and selling loose cigarettes. He had already flipped the  $125 twice. He couldn't believe that cigarettes sold so well here. 

Winston had begun a conversation with the security officer at the front desk, that might benefit him. “Excuse me big brother I just started this class and I am from out of town. What does it really do?” 

The officer was all set to dismiss the bald young man in front of him. He had decided not to answer questions long ago. However Winston reminded him of himself when he first came “A foreign”. The burly Jamaican sized Winston up and said. “Souljah you da one day say have loose?” Winston had learned to listen extra carefully to every syllable that people spoke. Three days of useless mock interviews and skills assessments hosted by an international community had forced him to fathom the depths of different accents. Not realizing that he could be putting himself in a bad predicament, He responded truthfully. “I got loose. You good for one on the strength.” 

He had been talking to Dave a lot, but he stubbornly held on to his own brand of slang.  Gordon, the barrel chested Jamaican security officer told the other officers. “I am going to walk around the block. Nobody without High Dee sine?” The officer extended his hand for the offered cigarette. Winston provided it. “You know that selling loosies is against the law?“ Winston had not. Dave had some explaining to do. “Nah, for real?” The man had lit up and coughed when he laughed. “Yah mon. Hill-Eagle.” 

Winston noticed that the other cigarette peddlers had started vacating the block as he walked beside Gordon. “You ever do security? Yankee boy?” Winston shook his head no. He was willing though. Gordon stopped and crushed the nearly untouched cigarette beneath his shoe. “Hall-right my youth. Two things what Gordon gone do fa yah I'm not gone let hinny one helse sell loose ear.” He looked around till he spotted Dave. “The lickal Puerto Rican kid hold-den ya bag true?” Winston was shocked that the middle aged rent-a-cop had noticed so much. He had to admit it. “He is.”

 Gordon gestured for Dave to cross the street and Winston nodded the okay. Gordon spoke to Dave in Spanish effectively cutting Winston out of the conversation. As the two men wrapped up the unintelligible conversation Dave looked at Winston and shook his head. He was smiling. 

“Hall-right now youth don't be out ear when ya supposed to be hen class sine?” Winston agreed that he did ‘sine' or understand. “I go on talk to the had-ministrator, hand we go on get ya a job sine?” Suddenly the back to work training program was less of a burden. Winston had hope. The other people in his class started speaking to one another by the fourth day.

 Winston remained silent. He sold loose cigarettes at break time and talked to Dave. Dave was trying to convince him to say that he was homeless and get on the list for an apartment. Winston had seen through Dave by this point, he knew that his one friend in the city was a two-bit con man but he had some good advice. 

As the two week program wrapped the administrator called Winston into her office. His weight caused the ancient chair to creak alarmingly. He felt as if it might collapse at any moment. He tried to be patient as the elderly woman read his small folder. Her eyes looked enormous through the thick lenses of her glasses. Ms. Kolinsky seemed to be reading every detail of the senseless assessments and his resume. Finally the old woman cleared her throat, she sounded like a car fighting for ignition.  “I have a good friend, who attends temple with me…” Myrtle Kolinsky looked up from the file. Her original line of thought appeared abandoned. “Are you a religious man Mr. Turner?” Winston replied “I think that I'm more spiritual than religious ma'am.” The older woman's laughter sounded more like a death knell then a sound of mirth. “I am sorry Mr. Turner it’s just we don't hear ma'am until you out of town people come through.” She pulled open a desk drawer her tiny pale arms riff with age spots. An index card appeared in her hand. “These are friends of mine. They own a spice warehouse in Manhattan and they need a warehouse associate can you start on Monday if we get you some money for work clothes?” Winston had wanted to say why wait he had clothes. But Dave’s admonishment to “Get whatever they'll give you Yo.” Rang in his subconscious. “Yes ma'am I will be there. Is there a specific uniform?” The woman handed him a package of paperwork instead of answering and signed a check blowing her signature before handing it over. As an afterthought Ms. Kolinsky  asked “Your middle name is Churchill?”

 The check was for $150 and instead of buying unnecessary clothes Winston gave the money to his landlord. He was a couple of weeks ahead and he intended to stay that way.

The train ride to the job was nerve racking. He was not used to depending on transit to get to work on time. Winston checked his cheap wristwatch at every stop until he reached his.  He arrived early bought a cup of coffee and a bagel from a kiosk and sat at the corner of the building.

 The warehouse was old. Not like established in 1975 old. It was turn of the century antiquated machinery old. The smell of over a hundred years of cinnamon, coriander, thyme, red pepper and work hung heavy in the air. The brother and sister team that owned the warehouse stayed in the office. 

He had one coworker, at least in name, but the man really did no work other than teach Winston how to use the outdated systems. The older black man wore a pristine Dickie’s one piece and it remained pristine all day. Winston on the other hand was filthy he had learned the hard way that grinding 300 lbs of red pepper was a difficult task. One that caused his nose to run, his eyes to water, caused him to  choke and gag. 

When he switched to grinding cinnamon it stuck to the tears, and mucus creating dark lines down the front of his shirt and his face. He next had to mill black pepper from peppercorns. When Willie, the other employee came to announce that it was break time he strolled in the pepper dust filled room wearing a ventilator. 

He lifted up his goggles for a millisecond. “I forgot to get you a mask. My fault. It’s break time.” 

Winston wanted to punch the old bastard in his neck. 

The two 15 minute breaks and the 30 minute lunch all went by too fast. The end of the day came and the senior citizen siblings, thanked him and told him that they looked forward to seeing him the next day. 

He was embarrassed by how dirty he was as he rode the train. By the time he reached his front door Winston was tired to the bone and he had to spend time getting the mixed spice out of his crevices. 

He wasn't certain that he wanted to stay in the warehouse long term, but he was on his way.

 He dug through his last unpacked piece of luggage and found dark brown Dickies,  a pair of safety glasses and two bandanas. Winston was not going to wait for Willie or anyone else to provide reasonable accommodation for him. He had his own. It wouldn’t be long until He was doing well, Winston thought.