As we drove out of the shop one morning, Crew Leader Carl stopped at the office to talk to the owner, Benito. The crew waited in the truck while Carl went inside.
Several minutes later, Carl returned looking pale and trembling. He hopped behind the wheel and lit a cigarette, his hand shaking.
“Are you OK?” I asked.
Carl took a deep drag. “Not really. Benito just chewed my ass for fifteen minutes straight!”
“For what?” I asked.
Carl shrugged. “No idea. It was all in Italian. He was waving his arms and screaming. I never even saw him take a breath. It was like a damn Francis Ford Coppola production in there!”
“So you have no idea what he was so mad about?” I asked.
“No idea,” Carl said. “But I’ll tell you something: Whatever it was, I’m sure as hell never going to do it again!”
The Lawn-Cutting Crew 