A Lot Like Me by Larry Elder

Author:Larry Elder
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781621577980
Publisher: Regnery Publishing
Published: 2018-04-03T04:00:00+00:00

17

“she’s something”

I got a paper route delivering the Herald Examiner on my black Schwinn bicycle. George was the man in charge of all the delivery boys. He was balding on top with thick white hair on the sides and reeked of cigar smoke from the stogies he was never without.

“You’re late, Elder,” he barked, no matter what time you came in. After the first time he said it, you realized it was his way of saying hello. “What is this world coming to?”

“Be glad I’m here,” I said. “Let’s see you try and deliver them.”

“Hey Hal, a lady complained that you hit her dog with the paper. What is this world coming to? You’re fired.” Everybody got fired at least once a month.

George always complained about “what this world is coming to.” I delivered during the murder spree of Richard Speck, the serial killer who raped and butchered eight Chicago student nurses. Each day brought new revelations.

“Oh, Sweet Jesus,” George threw up his hands. “Don’t put me on the jury. I’ll tell you what they should do to this bastard. Cut off one body part each day. Then give him a trial. Coleman, you’re late! Yeah, one body part for every nurse he killed. What is this world coming to?”

George stacked the number of newspapers each boy needed for his route. We picked each paper up, one at a time, folded it, and put it in a machine that had a mechanical arm with string attached to it. When the paper touched the arm, it came down and then up, leaving the paper neatly folded in half with a tight string bow around it. Once you got the hang of it, the whole thing took about a second. You had to be careful not to get your finger caught under the arm. It wouldn’t rip off a finger, but it could gouge and tear into one. Then you scooped up the papers and put them in a canvas bag, which fit over your bike handlebars.

“It was a good job,” said Dad, “except when it came to gettin’ paid.”

My first route had thirty houses, and I did so well I soon got a bigger one, this time with almost fifty houses. We had to knock on the door to collect from each customer every month. Most paid on time, and you were paid a percentage of your expected collections. But if someone was late or you got completely stiffed, it came out of the paperboy’s end.

“Mom always thought that was unfair, and she wondered whether it was the Herald Examiner’s policy or George’s,” I told Dad.

Every month, no matter how successful I was in collecting on time and from almost every customer on my route, George always said I was short.

“Elder, you owe me three dollars.”

“But George—”

“It’s right here.”

“But I was really careful—”

“No you weren’t.” He punched a bunch of keys on his adding machine, looked at the tape and chomped down on his cigar. “Hu-umm, yup, you’re three dollars light.”

George did this every month to every kid.

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