During the years immediately following my high school graduation, I dabbled in college and worked at a filthy grocery store located within easy walking distance of my parents’ house. It was a ridiculous place, run by crooks and alcoholics, and I was a so-called stocker. Which meant I stocked the shelves, but also did whatever else the red-nosed managers ordered me to do.
We stockers bagged groceries, operated cash registers, collected carts in the parking lot, refilled vending machines, climbed up on the roof to change the sign, ground hamburger, swept the floors, swabbed toilets, built displays, and just about anything else that happens in a grocery store.
A person accustomed to working in a strict union shop would’ve had a stroke in that place. We did it all, whenever the drunks demanded. And received minimum wage, and a daily ration of insults, in return.
Probably because of the constant abuse, the stockers were unusually close. We looked out for each other, and were kinda-sorta friends. At least while we were working. It was one of those “unite or die” situations.
And during the middle part of my tenure there, a new stocker was hired. He was an older guy, probably in his early thirties, and was known only as Brogan. I assume that was his last name, but I’m not completely sure.
For years, we learned, Brogan had worked at the Volkswagen plant across the river, and had been making some unimaginable amount of money. Something like $18.00 an hour, which seemed impossible to us; we each worked full-time, and brought home about $104.00 per week.
He and a few hundred of his coworkers had been laid-off from that plant, and Brogan wasn’t taking it well. The man was in a downward-spiral. He was big and burly, but had massive plum-colored bags under his eyes. He looked like an unmade bed, at all times.
But he fit right in, and we liked him. He told us stories about his wild drunken escapades, and they invariably ended with him having some form of taboo sex with a divorcee in the back of his van. He picked them up in the lounge at Smiley’s, a questionable motel that catered to long-haul truckers.
Most of us were in high school, or recently graduated, and Brogan’s tales were amazing, a huge hit. We’d gather around him, like we were in the presence of Moses himself, and hang on his every word. And he never let us down; he had the storytelling abilities of a seasoned master.
Since he was at Smiley’s Lounge every (every!) night of the week, and had trouble making it to work in the mornings, he started parking his big ol’ Chevy van outside the store. He’d catch a few winks of drunken slumber there, and shortly before he was supposed to punch-in, one of us would walk across the parking lot and bang on the driver’s side window.
A few minutes later Brogan would come dragging in, unshaven, his clothes all messed up, and his hair going in every direction at once. He always looked like hell on those days, and usually smelled like stale liquor and cigarettes. He’d drink three or four outsize tankards of coffee from the deli, and eventually start to reanimate.
Then he’d tell us about the night before…
I think somebody must have questioned the truthfulness of Brogan’s tales of relentless debauchery, because he arrived one morning with a tape recorder. He had us gather around, and hit the play button.
And what we heard was high-tempo squeaking, occasional grunts, and Winston-ravaged moaning. It sounded like a couple of rutting boars in a brass bed. And it went on and on and on…
I couldn’t believe it. We could barely make eye contact with each other. Brogan finally explained that he’d hidden the recorder inside his van, for our benefit. You know, since we’d questioned his honor.
We listened intently, but once we’d heard five minutes of this horrible noise, we got the general idea. Brogan, sensing he was losing his audience, hit the fast forward button, to get to “the good part.”
But he went too far, and when he hit play again we heard the sound of someone pissing, like Niagara Falls. Apparently the pair finished, and Brogan had stepped outside the van for a few moments. What a romantic evening that must’ve been…
Yes, he was a memorable character, for sure. But he didn’t stick around long. The day our store manager told us we’d have to start wearing ties to work, was the beginning of the end.
All of us groaned at this news, but Brogan argued. He also yelled, and used an abundance of profanity, right in the faces of the manager and an assistant, and in front of the other stockers.
They didn’t care for his combativeness and disrespect, and told him he’d either be wearing a tie the next morning, or be unemployed.
So, Brogan showed up the next day wearing a tie — but no shirt. He was stripped to the waist, except for a blue necktie. And he just started working, like it was any other day.
The assistant manager (the same guy from the day before) almost exploded a blood vessel in his neck, and came charging out of the office. He was sputtering belligerence in red-faced outrage, and told Brogan to get out.
The two of them walked outside and we could see the assistant manager yelling and waving his hands around. It was incredible. Brogan was, like, the greatest person ever.
And somehow he wasn’t fired (he was likable as all hell), but the assistant told our hero he’d be spending the day cleaning out “the trash house.”
This was the worst job in the whole store. The trash house was a room on the back of the building, with a door that opened to the parking lot. It was always full of slimy rotting garbage, decomposing heads of cabbage, and all manner of nastiness. The smells that emanated from that thing are unlike any I’ve encountered since.
But Brogan didn’t seem to care. He pulled his van over, cranked some Ted Nugent, and got to work. He was using a snow shovel to remove the filth, and singing along. He was seemingly having a great time, and this irritated management, of course.
One of them finally went out and told him to turn off the music, claiming it was annoying the customers.
And that’s when our shirtless friend overplayed his hand…
Brogan grabbed a sign that had previously been part of a wine display. It was on a stick and looked like a picket sign. He walked to the front of the store, near the main entrance, and started marching up and down the sidewalk chanting, “Higher wages! Better working conditions!” with this wine advertisement over his shoulder.
Every member of management almost went full-Scanners and converged on the guy. And after a few minutes Brogan got into his van, drove away, and we never saw him again.
And you know that Eminen song where he brags, “And it feels so empty without me.” Well, that’s exactly the way we felt. After Brogan disappeared, there was a sizable void in the place. The guy was larger than life, and it felt so empty without him.
I’d love to know where he ended up, but have no idea. I don’t even know his first name, so it would be hard to track him down.
Anyway, Brogan was a memorable character I have known. And I’ll tell you about others in future updates.
If you’d like, please tell us about a memorable character you have known. Use the comments link below.
And have a great day, my friends.
Now playing in the bunker
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Bikerchick
I’m heading to the Strip District on Sunday a.m.
Any pointers? I heard Rowlands is the place for an Oyster sandwich.
I always liked Mallrats too. It had me at “gerbils”.
The actor who plays Jay showed up at my son’s college. He had the same goofy face in every picture – he might very well have been one of those life size cardboard cutouts. My son claims “other guys” wanted “Jay” to join him (“I mean them”) for a “smoke”…. good to see my tuition dollars are being put to good use.
holy over quote use batman “!”
Son of Sam: …mmmmm…Roland’s….yum! Love that place. I don’t care for oysters but their Lobster Roll sandwich is KILLER! So is their fried fish sandwich and steamed mussels! Best bloody mary’s too. Hopefully you will get there earlier enough to sit outside on the balcony and do some people watching!
You can also go to Wholey’s Fish Market. Fish sandwiches to die for and if you like New England Clam Chowder that’s the place to go!
Thanks bikerchick
Oyster sangwich for breakfast with a Bloody and Lobster Roll for lunch with a beer.
I thought Son of Sam was speaking about another kind of oyster sandwich…damn.
“And how do you know it was monkey hair? Did it have a label?”
Hahaha.
Jason- I think I will marry you!! I am engaged to another man but he seems to be draggin his feet. and I am not getting any younger. as for sharing well my friend Serena in high school taught me to share. We were hugely popular.
I just asked WTB about more Charles stories and she said “I think he once gave me a folder full of porn, well not exactly porn because there was nothing erotic about it. It was just all sorts of random body parts cut out of magazines. I guess maybe it would be considered erotic if you were a serial killer. Who gives away folders full of picutres of naughty bits anyway?”
So I guess we have established that yes he was in fact insane. she barely knew him.
BIkerchick- I think i totally want to hang out with you and your friends. Sounds like absolutely a blast!!!
TILLY: Come on down! Would love to have you. But fair warning….you gotta have thick skin to hang with us! No one is off limits. But I have a feeling you can hang with the best of us! We do have some good laughs….at everyone else’s expense!!
Son of Sam: Sounds like a plan! Then afterwards, you should go to Jack’s on the South Side. Cheap drinks, fun atmosphere. Sometimes that’s exactly what we do on a Sunday on our bikes.
Guess what I just did!?!?!??!
I finally told off the Concerned Employee today! FINALLY!!!!!!!! After putting up with her shit for a year and half I finally told that bitch where to stick it.
I need a beer or 10 right now.
Brittney. honey you can’t do that. I hope you don’t get in trouble. I just want to tell you though that i have a lady in my office that i want so badly to tell off. I really have to do all i can to refrain. Sometimes I email rant my friends about the things i would like to tell her. Somtimes I fantasize about just letting the old bag have it. but you really cannot do that in real life if you ever want to get ahead. glad you feel better but try not to let it out sweetie……….drink it away at night like the rest of us.
@Bikerchick…………i’m pretty sure i can take it. i love a good ribbing. i laugh at myself more than anyone else.
@Tilly, it’s alright, today’s her last day. I didn’t want her to leave knowing she got away with trying to get myself and my co-workers fired so many times.
Both barrels Britteny. It was her last day anyway. Not that it will change her in least…but hey…I think you took one for the team. Asshats need to be awarded their trud derby now and then and made to wear it for a little while. I’m sure you don’t have “Here’s what I fucking think about you” tourettes or anything. Cheers!
WELL IF IT WAS HER LAST DAY THEN I AGREE WITH DTO!!!! HATS OFF!!!!!!
Haha, well ‘CE’ and I have a history here that goes beyond work. Her and I started out here together roughly over a year and half ago, and after her car broke down about 6 months after that, I willingly agreed to drive her to and from work everyday until she could figure something out, for $50 bucks a week, which is reasonable considering I have an SUV and gas prices are rediculous. She lived 15 minutes the opposite direction from me, which was also a half hour from work. Meaning, I had to drive an extra 45 minutes every day, two times a day, to help out a ‘friend’ in need. The Friday after the first week of driving her home, she told me she had to be home by 6. Since my apartment was on the way, I swung by to pick up my boyfriend so we could go out for dinner after dropping her off. I got her home at 5:40…shortly after I get a text message that says, “That fucking bitch just now dropped my ass off”…which was a message mistakingly sent to me instead of her boyfriend. Her reason behind saying that is that “You should have asked me throughout the day if I needed to be home sooner than that. You are inconsiderate”. And that was it for me. Shortly after was when all the ‘concerned employee’ emails started trying to get myself and another co-worker fired, 6 attempts actually. So believe me, this is a huge relief…even my boss said to me yesterday, ‘Don’t worry, the headache will be gone by Monday”.
Good riddance Concerned Employee.
Way to go Brittney!! I’m having a beer for you tonight!
SHE SOUNDS LOVELY!!! GOOD FOR YOU!!!! SOME PEOPLE JUST REALLY NEED TO HAVE A GOOD OLE FASHIONED PRISON YARD ASS WHOOPIN.
i’d rather go 3 rounds with a mixed martial artist than have a woman really pissed at me. just sayin’.
A hush came over the office when Britteny approched. Her eyes were steeled and there was no way CE was going to get out of this without a throw down. The tension had reached the point that a friend wronged could no longer hold back. Today was the day. And it was going to be somebody’s last day.
Everyone could see Brittney carried her head high and her pair of 38s a little higher and prouder than most days. Her stride was confident and her ass looked fantastic…
“Ok…cut…hold it. What the hell are you doing?”
“I don’t know man…I was in the moment and it just got away from me I guess.”
“Have you ever met Brittney. The fuck man?”
“No…but you know…I just thought…”
“Shut up!…Ok lunch everybody. Be back by three.”
Chuck in Belpre – do you know any mixed martial artists because there is a woman pissed at me and I want to do a comparison though, I think I may prefer the 3 rounds. At least it will be over quickly.
Tilly – are you sure we haven’t met before? I managed an apartment building on 21st and Delaware from 88 to 91. That sounds like the same guy that stole my BBQ grill.
I’m not happy with that first line in the second paragraph of the script…
probably is better written…
like it matters…”Oh script girl”…he called out to an empty set.
“and she was packin’ her pair of 38s just like everyday” insted of ” and her pair of….”
Cheers again.
Excuse me, director? I’m the business agent for the script writers and the talent it is explicit in our contract that we be on time for happy hour on Fridays.
So unless you want us to picket on Monday you will let us go to the bar immediately. You are welcome to join us, but no talking.
Britney you did well today.
Oh, does anyone else picture CE as a roseanne barr type, or mrs poole?
Haha, think more of a scary looking elf…very very short hair, not styled, no make up, huge chicklet teeth, awkward outfits (diamond print sweaters, white washed 80’s jeans that go up to the rib cage, construction boots)…she’s just a beast. My co-worker/friend wore an outfit in honor of her today, a diamond print sweater, jeans and construction boots. I’m still laughing about it.
Brittney: Wotta ungrateful fucking ho-bag. You shoulda lumped her ass up. Some people are natural jack-off’s
Wow b that description made me cream my jeans. I guess now they’re whitewashed
t-storm…
“Dude…Friday? Happy hour? I mean …fuck! Why didn’t somebody say someting? They ain’t coming back at three are they? They think I’m an asshole don’t they? Damn man. Can you call them all and tell them I’ll just see them Monday. Thanks…I got a lot of re-write to do. I’m starting to like that “fantastic ass” scene the more I think about it. “
Britteny…I’m guessing she goes either way. No…not that…she either stinks or wears too much choke ass perfume. Maybe she just smells like Dial soap. Or like those little bars of soap you get in cheap motels. Aw crap…now I’m guessing what this troll smells like. Her teeth are probably Cheese Dorito stained too.
Shiny Rod – That was my point. With the MMA fighter it’s over in a flash and joints can be snapped back into place. A pissed off woman can carry a grudge around for decades like they are saving it for a spot on Antiques Roadshow.
Hey Jeff…For some reason I just re-read your post. Great writting of a great story. Just thought I needed to say that…dunno?
dto is now my favorite Surf Reporter!! Let’s pick up with the fantastic ass scene again…
“Everyone could see Brittney carried her head high and her pair of 38s a little higher and prouder than most days. Her stride was confident and her ass looked fantastic…”
That’s approaching “Smells like a vagina full of bad decisions” territory. Wow, just fuckin’ wow. Awesome.
Jeff, this was a really, really great post. Your storytelling is kick-ass, I’m salivating for the book.
Yum 38s
Ok…I’ll jump in again…Uncle_Wedgie…you might have come up with the name for a new candy…”YUM 38s”.
The name is innocous and unassuming. Nobody would have a clue as to where the name comes from . In the movie, “Amadeus”, Salieri offrers Mozart’s wife a candy called “Nipples of Venus”…so I see no problem with…”YUM 38s”
(Available in milk, white and dark chocolate)
Guess what…I conquered my fear today…I went on the scariest roller coasted at Six Flags. I almost cried, but I did it.
coaster*
Brittney – big weekend for you, right? YAY!!! Still feeling good about it? I have to admit, I’m just a wee bit jealous of you getting to tell off CE. I’ve been fantasizing lately about doing the same thing to my own version of CE. I’m trying to hold back and just let it go.
I wouldn’t have, but she quit, thank God. It was time. I did have a good weekend, she quit, I got over a fear, and now I’m finishing up my weekend with Stooge-a-Palooza and a few beers. I hope everyone had/is still having a good weekend too:)
Brittney, glad you did your Friday thing, glad you did your Saturday thing, and hope you have a good Sunday thing planned! Let us know. We’re all behind you!
As long as I don’t puke I think I can count today as a success. I remember getting drunk when I was younger. The room always seemed to spin. I haven’t had that sensation in years. Maybe I’m already dead but nobody has the heart to tell me?
I was hoping Dorothy would post… She used to tell us some great stories from “the old days”. She’s got many many more. As for me… I knew a few interesting characters:
One guy puked into a beer can without spilling anything.
Another (in 8th grade) made a dandelion chain from dandelions he grabbed through the window and wore it around his neck, then put a rubber band around his thumb about a hundred times and showed it to the teacher and said he wasn’t sure what the problem was but he needed to go to the nurse IMMEDIATELY!
In my 20s I worked with an ex professional wrestle. He was pretty interesting, but the stories of his were frickin’ great… even non-wrestling ones.
ooh! My buddy’s dad (RIP) was awesome. He was a half deaf trucker and called himself “Rotten Ron”. Very nice and funny guy but just to see him, he was kind of scary. Used to “celebrate” when an R rated movie would start and they’d show the rating, he’d say R stood for “Righteous” and “Rotten Ron”! He called his son Chucker because he get loads of wood delivered and make his son “chuck the wood” into the basement. Once he was working on his truck and started screaming bloody murder for his son “Chucker!!! Help! Get up here! Hurry up. CHUCKER!!!!” All the near by neighbors came running thinking an engine fell on him or something… nope, he just wanted a wrench and didn’t want to get out from under the truck.
One more. Probably mid to late teens, a friend rolled his brothers car and went home and started trying to fix it before his brother got home later that night. The brother got home and caught him sanding it like a champ and laughed so hard he didn’t even try to kick his ass or anything.
There have been many, many others. I bet half of the really scary ones are either in prison or a mental hospital… I’ll have to mention this to some of my friends to get good reminders of others. I think western PA had some very, very interesting people in the 80s.
Forgot to mention; each of those stories were just a typical thing from those people. They were all constantly doing similar things, just the first example that came to mind for each. Well a little extra for Rotten Ron just because.
Gretchen and other beer guzzlers…
The “End of History” didn’t last as long as you’d expect an end of history to last.
http://www.aolnews.com/surge-desk/article/start-the-future-t-koelschip-tops-brewdog-as-maker-of-worlds-strongest-beer/19575551
jtb
OB12
Brittney…
Just some advice from a long-time, burnt-out, recovering manager: Ask for the raise AFTER you become indispensable, not before.
Unless you believe you don’t have the strokes to become indispensable. In that case, before works fine.
Just trying to assist you in dealing with the damnable barristers.
jtb
OB12
Not brave enough to comment with your real name? What’s the intertubes coming to? =8^-)
I’m technically due for a review in August in anyway, I figured if he was going to have me do the job of three, I’d put in a request to consider a little extra then the norm when that time comes for all the extra stress I’m going to endure. I think I’m beyond the point of having to prove myself there.