When I first started as a clerk for the Atlanta Post Office I was assigned to the Parcel Post Annex, which was in the northern industrial part of Atlanta. It was all manual labor, unloading box cars and trucks and sorting big bulk rate mail sacks and parcels by big cities and states.
There was a big fellow there that I worked with from time to time named Denard. Denard was tall, well over six feet and he had thick bones and thick muscles. He didn’t seem that he wanted to talk much with me, so we didn’t.
From time to time someone would walk by our work area and he might call them aside and have a conversation with them. This is when I noticed he had a Jamaican accent. But other times he would talk to people and not have Jamaican accent.
Later I found out he had told some that he was from Jamaican and with those he spoke with a Jamaican accent. Others knew he was from Alabama, so no need in trying to fool them.
This I heard second hand: A new man was assigned to work with Denard one day and while they worked Denard asked the new man if he played golf. The man said yes he did and he and Denard talked golf for several hours while they worked. They talked of their favorite gold club manufacturer, different type of swings, and so on. Denard asked him where did he mostly play and he told him. And the man asked Denard where did he like to play and Denard looked at him carefully, did not reply and went back working but continue to turn around a glare at him from time to time.
Later Denard asked him why did he want to know where he played golf. The man said they were talking golf and he asked him where he played, so he asked Denard where he played. Denard told him he didn’t think it was any of his business and why did he want to know.
Before the night was over Denard was accusing the new man of wanting to know where he played golf so he would know when he was gone so he could go put the make on Denard’s wife and if he ever caught him with his wife he would kill him.
The supervisor had to separate them and made sure they never worked side by side again.
Another time somebody messed up on a dispatched. The supervisor at that time, a guy named Barnwell, said he would kick that guy’s ass if he (Barnwell) wasn’t such a nice guy.
Denard asked Barnwell did he want him to take care of it. Barnwell said yes, it might be better coming from a peer.
Denard beat the hell out of him behind the building. Denard told he was doing it under orders. Barnwell had a tough time explaining that to upper management.
Barnwell was not a detailed guy. He was transferred to finance because of the incident.
Through the years after that I hard more Denard stories, but the above were the first ones and the only ones I remember.
9 comments:
Denard sounds like the kind of guy who goes nuts and shoots up his workplace!
Judy,
I don't think so. The people I know that have shot up work places are very quiet and friendly, the kind of people you would least expect to shoot up a work place.
Somebody like Denard is always letting his pressure out - the ones that hold it in are the ones to watch.
He sounds like a few individuals that I've worked with over the years. The best policy is to smile big and say little.....
Deborah,
You are right. Smile big and tip-toe away...backwards.
Sorry I had to delete my other comment.
Everybody has a Denard in their life. He's the guy you don't want to talk to because he interprets everything you say in a different way than you mean. It's almost always negative.
Hey, that describes my boss!
El,
I think I have a built-in Denard in my brain.
There are so many Denards in our jobs and neighborhoods. Always tell myself, may be difficult but things could be worse, we could be them. Or "There but for the will of God, go I". And they do make good stories. In retrospect, at least.
Si, Deborah, and El Postino,
Denard, if he is still alive, I'm sure, would feel complemented to hear that he is a universal figure!
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