It was a gorgeous summer morning. We were cruising down the highway to our next job.
There was a new guy on the crew named Stan. He was tall and thin and in his early twenties, like me. He and I sat with Juan in the backseat, while Carl and Francisco sat in front.
Stan was drinking a Sprite. He tiled his head back and drained it in two gulps. When he was done, he let out an enormous burp and tossed the can onto the floor.
“Hey!” Carl said, glaring through the rearview mirror, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “Don’t do that!”
“Sorry,” Stan said, covering his mouth. “It just came out. I didn’t realize you had a no-burping policy.”
“Not that!” Carl said. “Don’t be throwing your trash on the floor! The owner, Benito, wants us to keep his trucks clean. All your garbage needs to go in the trash.”
“Sorry,” Stan said, picking up the can. He crammed it into the brown paper sack that housed his lunch.
“I don’t want to see no wrappers or anything on the floor back there!” Carl said, snarling. “Our mission is to keep things clean, whether it’s a yard or a company vehicle. Understand?”
Stan swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
Carl took a deep drag from his cigarette. “Frankly, there’s nothing I despise more than a slob. Spending a few months picking up other people’s garbage will do that to you.”
“Yes, sir.” Stan swallowed again. “Sir? I have a question.”
Carl narrowed his eyes. “Yeah?”
“Are we allowed to smoke in company vehicles, sir?”
Carl’s eyes narrowed even further. “What are you getting at?”
“I mean, what do we do with the butts? Are we allowed to crush them in the ashtray? Or should we douse them in an empty soda can, since we’re supposed to keep the truck clean?”
Carl flicked his cigarette out the window. “That answer your question?”
Stan swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
I leaned over. “Don’t worry,” I said, “it takes everyone a while to understand company policy.”
The Lawn-Cutting Crew 