More Than a Garbage Man . . . #2
Her eyes followed my finger to the note that was stuck on her door. She snatched it down and looked at it. I was sure that this wasn’t the first time that she had seen it. “I don’t give a fuck about this. You’re the garbage man. It’s your job to take the fuckin’ trash.”
I didn’t say anything immediately. My mind wondered why she was so hostile about a situation where she was in the wrong. It had to be an entitlement or privilege thing. It had to be.
“Since there seems to be a disconnect with the words on the paper and the understanding of them in your mind, I will verbally tell you why we have not taken your trash. If the items I go over are not corrected, we will continue to not take your trash.” I paused to allow that shit to sink in for her before I continued.
“Per the information that was given to you in your pamphlet when you moved in, as well as the addendum that you signed around trash collection, your trash should be in the authorized trash can that was supplied for you.”
I pointed at the trash can that she had. It was a very nice stainless steel trash can that was bigger than the trash can that we issued. The fact remained that it was not the authorized trash can.
Her arms crossed over her flat chest. “What the hell does it matter which trash can it’s in? It’s in a trash can. I don’t like plastic trash cans, because they hold more bacteria.”
I didn’t give a damn about what the fuck she said.
All that mattered at this moment was what I had to say.
“Next, per the information you received and signed, the trash bags must be tied close. As you can see, that one is not nor are the others on the floor next to it. Now, whether the ones on the floor were tied close or not, they wouldn’t have been taken.
We don’t take bags that are not within the authorized trash can. We also only take up to three bags.”
She gawked at me with slit eyes. “I’m trying to understand why a garbage man has all these rules. This shit is stupid. I have trash, and you get paid to fuckin’ take the shit.” She pointed at the trash. “Take that shit and get the fuck out of my face.”
The laughter that I desperately wanted to hold on to came out. This bitch had me fucked up. “Miss lady, you have a great night. I will not take your trash tonight and any night that it is not in the accordance of the guidelines.”
Oh, that got her pissed off. She rushed me and pushed my chest. “Nigger, take my fuckin’ trash!” She hit my chest. “I will end you and your little job.”
When her hand lifted again, I grabbed her wrists and pushed her back toward her door. I did not release her wrist until she was close to her door. I was sure not to use my full strength. At six feet, three inches and 225 pounds, I knew my strength.
Her dramatic ass screamed at the top of her lungs, then fell backward into her door. When she covered her face, I knew that this was about to be some straight ass bullshit.
“You hit me! You hit me! I’m calling the police, you bastard!” Her privileged, fake tears started.
I watched her rush into her apartment, then she grabbed the phone that was on a table close to the door. She aggressively tapped the screen. When I heard the emergency operator ask whether she needed fire, police, or medical, I stepped back and leaned on the wall.
I pulled out my phone and called the property manager’s personal line. It was only ten o’clock. The property manager lived on site, so it would be nothing to have him come through.
“Hey, Falcon, what’s going on?” Mark, the property manager, picked up on the third ring.
Mark was a cool white boy. We actually went to college together and had a few classes together. We both received degrees in business administration with a concentration in operations management.
“Hey, Mark, we have a problem at apartment 520. The police have already been called by the resident. I’ll be here when you get here,” I told him.
He groaned. This wasn’t the first time that I mentioned an issue with this resident. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I listened as she told the emergency operator that I attacked her and was still threatening her. The setup that she placed herself in was embarrassing, and she didn’t even realize it. There were no worries on my end.
Mark arrived in less than ten minutes. The second he walked up, the bitch turned it up even more than I thought it could be turned up. She needed to be an actress if she already wasn’t.
“Mark! Mark! He hit me! Oh my God! I can’t believe I was assaulted over trash!” Her ass flung her body onto him.
Mark gently peeled her off him. “Chelsea, please calm down. Everything will be alright.”
Two police officers stepped off the elevator.
Both knew me well. I was never a nigga that was in the streets, but through my company-funded employment and training program, St. Claire Workforce Initiative, I have a large network of community partners, which include Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department and other government agencies in the city.
My program focused on a gamut of areas such as paid job training, rebuilding after incarceration, veteran to civilian transition, financial-literacy, mentorship, transportation assistance, and so much more. We received a lot of referrals from the police and sheriff stations.
Officer Saul and White took in the scene. Officer Saul was the one that introduced them to Chelsea and asked what happened. We all listened to her tearful story.
She claimed that I pushed her and struck her in the face. Apparently, in her reality, I called her a white bitch and a whole slew of other nonsense. Mark’s, Officer Saul’s, and Officer White’s faces told a story. The story was that they thought she was full of the shit that she was.
“Arrest him! I want him arrested and fired now.” She screamed like an unhinged, stray cat.
By this time, other residents had come out of their apartments to spectate. My company serviced this community since they opened ten years ago. There were a lot of residents who knew me and my character. Their faces were torn up as well.
Mark lifted his hand to silence her. “Okay, Chelsea, let’s calm down so that we can take care of this in the most civilized manner. Falcon does not work for me.”
“Well, call his manager and have his ass fired. Hell, he’s going to lose his job anyway after they lock his ass up.” She jumped toward me but was stopped by Officer White’s hold. “Yeah, you’re going to fuckin’ jail.”
I tittered because she didn’t seem too scared of me if she had enough of a tight pussy to jump at me. With a tilted head, I looked at Mark. “Yes, Mark, please call my manager. He should be awake. The only person above me is the owner.”
She stepped back. “Call his ass now! You’re going to be fired and have a record. Now how will you support your twelve baby mamas?”
Twelve baby mamas? Where the hell did that even come from? That number of baby mamas went well beyond even the stereotype of a fuck-ass Black man. Officer Saul’s head dropped for a second before he told Mark to call the owner.
Yeah, they were about to let me and Mark be with the bullshit. They knew that she was out here filing false reports. This type of behavior was dangerous as hell.
When my phone rang, I looked at the screen, then answered it. “Hey, Mark, what’s up?”
“What’s going on, Falcon? Um, this is weird, but one of my residents is having an issue with, well . . . you. The resident claims that you attacked her. She wants you to fire you, since only the owner can fire you.” Mark’s voice held all the sarcasm in the world.
When my eyes locked with Chelsea, hers were wide.
She didn’t see this on her bingo card. I spoke without taking my eyes off her.
“Oh, wow! I attacked her. Well, this should be easy to resolve. I will pull my body cam footage up to show the police. That should be all that we need to square this away.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s perfect! Officer Saul and White are here. They can review it now. I’ll talk to you later.” Mark disconnected the call.
“Bo—body cam. What body cam? You can’t do that because I didn’t agree to be recorded!” Her face was redder than a tomato.
Officer White cleared his throat. “North Carolina is a one-party consent state when it comes to recording. Also, based on what I know about St. Claire Property Solutions contracts, there is a clause that states that all their workers wear body cams for their protection as well as yours.”
Mark added his two cents. “That is correct. Also, Chelsea, that was mentioned in the pamphlet given to you when you moved in. You also signed off on it in the addendum.”
It didn’t take any time to pull up the video footage because I queued it up while I waited for Mark to come. I extended my phone toward the officers and Mark. “Here is the footage.”
My eyes didn’t leave Chelsea’s face as they watched the footage. There was nothing that I needed to say or do. The footage would do it all.
Officer Saul’s jaw was tight. “Based on the footage, Miss Taylor, you assaulted Mr. St. Claire. He had the legal right to protect himself, which he did without hitting you.”
Officer White took a small step forward. With a smirk, he asked the question that I knew would come. “Mr. St. Claire, would you like to press charges at this time?”
“Wait, what? Why are you asking him that?” Chelsea shrieked. It was unbelievable that she asked that question.
“Miss Taylor, before we saw the footage and you claimed that he assaulted you, you wanted him arrested. He is afforded the same rights now that we know the truth,” Officer Saul informed her.
She began to fuss back and forth with Officers Saul and White. I didn’t have time for this shit. “Officers, I would like to press charges.”
Silence cloaked the hallway for a brief second before privilege erupted. Chelsea embodied Superwoman and flew across the hallway toward me. “You muthafuckin’ nigger! All you had to do was take my fuckin’ trash.”