Bent Words

Bent Words

September 21, 2009

Well, let me tell you...

So last week began a bit of phone tag between me and the recently fired Finance Manager at the shop (Big Greg). He had said he wanted to meet with me in person to discuss some things.

(I was fairly skeptical in venturing out with him and his followers since, in the past, these evenings out have mandated the consumption of copious amount of alcohol. Sure, you could sit in your car in the parking lot of the bar and explain logically to yourself beforehand that you're not going to partake in balls out Party Mode (no, no, you're just going to have one or two) but let us see how you fair once inside... The drink already purchased, the proponents of osmosis gaining in number, the ten dollar bill handed you for the juke box -- well, you get it.)

Basically I have abstained from all activity involving Sabotage Greg and I've been rather successful in avoiding all provocations of this sort.

But then Greg got serious and asked if we could just do lunch so I thought perhaps he really did have something to discuss with me. Perhaps a job opportunity or some news relating to past events at the shop? So I made an attempt to meet him, for lunch. Alas, on the date in question for our meeting, the old man did not answer his phone. He did not return my calls or my text messages. So I gave up. It wasn't pressing to me and I had other things to take care of.

Come to find Greg's currently sitting in the Waukesha Country Jail.

#1 -- He missed a court date regarding child support for his daughter and apparently the ex-wife called the cops on him.

#2 -- He has been accused of stealing nearly $80,000 in down payments on major units by the owners of the shop.


I only found out because one of the ex-employees (Brian) gave me a shout later in the week. Apparently he and some other people are trying to put together enough money for Greg so that he can stay in touch with his daughter (by keeping her cell phone bill up to date). Today they moved his belongings out of his apartment (he was evicted) for storage at a friend's place in Slinger. They are also planning to have a "Charity Fundraiser" at one of his local haunts.

And apparently everyone wants my assistance in this matter....

I'm just torn.

Why should I help a guy who has a history of abuse (restraining orders) and neglect? Why should I provide financial assistance to a person whose paycheck wasn't exactly light to begin with? He has a history of this sort of activity (I'm a whore) and while I certainly believe in the idea of "innocent until proven guilty," I just don't know if I should get wrapped up into this sort of thing. The guys keep telling me that "everyone has a past" and the current situation "has nothing to do with the present" and "the owners of the shop are just using him as a scapegoat" but are they just letting a few handouts (in the form of cash) mandate their loyalty toward this guy? Do they even see past their own demise at the shop (all of them being fired or laid off)?

It seems to me that Greg had to buy his friends. He bought a young stripper 'girlfriend' by pouring booze down her gullet and paying for her rent. He bought her gifts which I shipped out every WEEK with my parts from the shop. She kicked him to the curb the day after I heard a story about Greg "banging her in his truck at Wal-Mart."

He was always that guy where "dinner is one me" and "here, I got it" when you went to hand the bartender some cash. And, it seemed so odd to me because, HELL, don't we work at the same place? Aren't you paying rent, too? Aren't you taking care of a daughter with child support? Why are you able to buy her an XR100 for Christmas? How is it that she gets a new i-Phone, PS2 (or whatever they're called these days) and Shoei lid on her birthday?

Why? Well, it seems to me that everyone in Greg's life is for sale.

And I'm sure I was laid off for bigger reasons than $80,000 over a period of I-Don't-Know-How-Long but if it true that he stole this money from the place in which I was employed, than he was technically f'ing with my job. Right?

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm a big bitch for wanting my distance in this situation. Maybe I'm just feeling guilty because everyone keeps calling me asking if I can "help out a friend."

But then I ask myself... Friend? What friend? You mean the guy who bought me drinks and then openly admitted that he hoped I was drunk enough for a strip tease?? The guy who, when I straight up laughed and told him 'no' after his request, got so offended that he left the bar and wouldn't speak to me for a week at work? You mean the guy who barked and bitched when Katie and I, out with Greg and a handful of other people after work, started talking to persons outside the group and he would literally refuse to regard us when we returned ("you're out with US, not with THEM")? That guy? Or do you mean the one who spread inappropriate photos of Katie about the work place after she had too much to drink a concert last summer? Although she begged for them to be deleted, he would not relent -- and that's a friend?

Well, I may have a slightly different definition of friend I guess.

Sure, I've gone out and seen it. I've sat by and watched as the madness commenced but I didn't take part in it. I've been one of the boys and I pointed and howled but I never sacrificed my self-respect for a dollar. I take care of my friends when I see them getting out of hand and, if I can't help them, I abandon the situation. There's only so much you can do and be responsible for and that's why I have distanced myself from all of that.

I don't want to burn bridges but that doesn't mean I have to cross them if there's an alternate route.

Even with all that -- I still don't know what to do. I hate to turn my back on someone in need (I mean, really, for his daughter's sake since she's a good kid) but it's not as though I have tons of money floating about my fingers with this little extended vaca I'm on... And I don't know if I should get involved at all. They want me to visit him, to help organize the fund raiser, to help move his belongings.

I don't know what to do.

For now, "I'm just really busy with racing... and stuff."

Written at 9:17 p.m.