"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I screamed at the incessant banging, irritated that I couldn’t make myself remember.
Oh, sweet Jesus, I am never drinking again.
I have the weirdest dreams every f**king time I drink. Why the hell can't I remember this one? I picked up a pillow from next to me and hugged it against my ears, trying to muffle the sound of my door being kicked in.
"Open the door, goat-fucker!" Drew’s muffled yell shouted as he continued to pound his fist against my front door. I know if I don't get up, he'll keep making noise and then I'd have to kill him.
The banging continued as I sat up, threw the covers off angrily and stumbled through the rental house with my eyes closed. I still had boxes of shit all over the place that I had yet to unpack and I kicked them angrily out of the way as I went. I made it to the front door without breaking any limbs and flung it open with an angry growl.
"Holy shit, dude, you don't look so hot," Drew said as he shouldered his way past me and into my house, wearing one of his signature t-shirts. I swear this guy owned at least two-hundred-and-fifty of these things. Today's shirt said "I pooped today".
"Sure, come on in Drew," I muttered to myself as I slammed the door shut and followed him to the living room. "You totally interrupted a good dream I was having. At least I think it was a good dream, I can't remember."
"Were you dreaming about the hot bartender you couldn't stop drooling over last night?" he asked with a laugh.
"Funny," I deadpanned as I leaned against the doorway and crossed my arms in front of me.
"If only I were kidding, dude. Her friend with the blonde hair asked me if you rode the short bus to the bar after you picked up your beer and poured it down the front of your shirt instead of your mouth—which was wide open staring at the bartender's ass.
Wow, definitely not one of my better nights.
"Maybe I should go up there and apologize to…."
Shit, I was drawing a blank.
"Yet another girl whose name you didn't get." Drew finished. "At least this time we know where she works. This place is a f**king mess," he said as he shoved boxes away with his foot so he could make his way over to the couch.
"Did you just come over here to insult me, or is there a reason for this early morning visit?"
"Early? It's twelve-thirty, dumb ass. We've got orientation at one," he said as he slid a box of books over and flopped down on the couch.
"SHIT! Are you kidding me?" I yelled as I ran into the kitchen, tripping over boxes along the way. Sure enough, the clock on the microwave read twelve-thirty-four. Fucking hell. I do not need to be late for orientation at the new plant. I pulled the front of my t-shirt up over my nose, took a whiff and cringed. I smelled like a distillery.
I ran to the bathroom and took the fastest shower known to man and threw on a clean long-sleeved t-shirt and pair of jeans. Drew broke every speed limit, and we managed to get to the Butler Automotive Plant with five minutes to spare.
The plant was closed for production on Sundays, so our small group of transfers were the only people that would be here today. There were about twenty of us that transferred from different plants around the United States and would start working tomorrow. All of the plants ran basically the same way, so we wouldn't need to learn how to do our jobs or anything. We would just get all of our paperwork to fill out for Human Resources and watch a few videos about the history of the company and about how you shouldn't sexually harass your co-workers. The latter was always our favorite. It was the same video they've been showing for over thirty years that they recorded back in the seventies and it was set to p**n o music. Getting a group of rowdy, blue-collar workers together in one room and putting in a tape that shows a guy in a leisure suit putting his hand on his secretary's ass and you've got complete and total anarchy, ladies and gentlemen.
We walked through the employee entrance to the plant and went into a conference room right by the door. Drew and I signed our names in to the attendance log hanging on the door and took a seat at one of the tables towards the back of the room. We looked around at all of the other people that would be starting with us, seeing if we recognized anyone.
"So, what kind of a douche bag do you think our foreman will be?" Drew said in a low voice. A guy sitting on the other side of Drew leaned forward and spoke before I could answer.
"He's actually an okay guy. He's been here for about twenty years and as long as you don't f**k up, he leaves you alone to do your work. I'm Jim Gilmore," the guy said, holding his hand out for us to shake while Drew provided the introductions.
"Hey, man, I'm Drew Parritt and this is Carter Ellis."
We each shook his hand while Drew kept talking.
"So how long have you worked here?"
"Only a few months. My fiancé and I just moved here from Toledo," he said.
"Seriously? That's where we just moved from. We worked at the Toledo Automotive Plant and got relocated here," I explained.
Jim laughed. "Small world I guess. My fiancé is originally from Butler and we met in college at The University of Ohio. She wanted to move back here as soon as we graduated, so here we are.”
“Hey, we went to a party one weekend there. Gee, Carter, you probably don’t remember that party, do you?” Drew asked sarcastically, knowing full well just how much I remembered about that party.
“Shut up, ass**le,” I grumbled. “So Jim, how come you had to come to orientation today?”
