The Transformation of Rod - Part 8

Rod felt mild trepidation as he drove into work.  He'd been gone over three weeks but it wasn't the time away that bothered him.  His time at the department had taught him that things there changed slowly.  One week looked much like its predecessor.  In three weeks, he suspected, nothing of substance would be different.  His uneasiness was borne more of the feeling that he didn't really know his coworkers.

Rhonda had informed him that his supervisor, Jerry Davis, had stopped in once during that first week when Rod was unconscious.  Otherwise, in his time in the hospital, he had received no visits or cards from any of the others.  He liked to think that if one of them was in the hospital he would visit or at least send a card.  Rod imagined they were probably enjoying the break, able to breathe freely without fear of stinky Rod fouling the area.

Rod thought about Rita, the receptionist and office administrator.  She'd only been with the office for a couple of years but Rod spoke to her every day.  She was the keeper of the keys for the department's trucks.  Every morning Rod would check in and pick up his keys.  Every morning Rod would also playfully hit on Rita.  Even though she smiled, she always said no, but never in a hostile way.  It was one of the highlights of Rod's day.  He'd always felt like there was a possibility that some day she just might say yes.  Now, he realized what an idiot he'd been.  He imagined Rita waiting for him to leave the building and then bursting into a giggle with the others, laughing at the absurdity of anyone, let alone her, ever dating him.  Rod wished there was a way to start his shift without seeing her but she did hold the keys.

Rod pulled into the employee parking lot and parked his truck.  He sat in the truck for a few minutes, composing himself and checking out his almost bald head in the rear view mirror.  In his opinion, he looked goofy.  Rhonda had tried to convince him that the shaved look was very trendy and sexy.  Rod found that hard to believe.  Rhonda must have just been trying to make him feel good.  She also told him he had a nicely shaped head, that not all guys could pull off the bald look.  Apparently, Rhonda had first-hand knowledge of this fact - a former boyfriend had tried the shaved look only to find that he had a head shaped like an eggplant.  Rod pulled his cap down low on his head and got out of his truck.

Rod had always been one of those loud people.  When he entered a room, it was immediately evident to everyone present.  He was aware of this and actually relished it.  He spoke louder than he needed to with a bit more swagger than was maybe appropriate.  He liked being noticed.  He liked to say that he'd never been late to a party because it aint a party until the Rodster arrives.  He was particularly boisterous at work, feeling that it was his duty to liven up those poor souls who were stuck inside at a desk all day.  He wasn't even sure what most of them did but he reasoned it was probably dull and humorous.  He usually had a joke to share.  It was rarely funny and he knew this but he laughed heartily anyway.  Despite his efforts, the desk group had maintained a sober mood.  Once in awhile, he would get a chuckle or a brief smile but it never lasted long.  Now, Rod realized they were probably dying from the odor, just praying he would leave soon.

Rod entered the office quietly and went to Rita's desk.  She was entering data into the computer and at first didn't notice him standing there.  When she did notice him, she glanced up quickly and then went back to typing.  She had not recognized him.

"How can I help you?" she asked, still typing.

"Hey, Rita, I just need my keys," Rod replied.

At the sound of his voice, Rita stopped typing, looked up and gasped slightly.  Instinctively, she grabbed a tissue and feigned a sniffle.  Could this be Rod?  She squinted slightly at him.  It was as if Rod's cool brother had stopped in.  The uniform was a little baggy, but still, it couldn't hide the fact that Rod was substantially thinner.  Who knew Rod had such a strong jaw line?  And he was wearing a cap, something she'd never seen Rod do before.  It looked like his hair was cut very short.  She wondered about the weird plugs.

"Rod.  Wow, I mean hey...um, welcome back."  Rita struggled to find the right words as she retrieved the truck keys from her desk drawer.  She handed them to Rod.

"Thanks, Rita," Rod said quietly.  "You don't need that anymore," he added, motioning to the tissue.

Rita blushed and put the tissue down.  Rod was right, she did not need it.  There was no smell.  Some of her office mates had poked their heads out of their cubes or stood up like human prairie dogs.  As Rod walked past them, they offered a quick welcome which Rod did not acknowledge.  As Rod left, Rita realized that for the first time, he hadn't made a pass at her.  And, for the first time, Rita considered the possibility of someday saying yes to his advances.

Rod quickly made his way to his desk in the basement and then out to the truck.  The truck was still littered with his past lunches plus it had the stench of death about it.  Rod knew there was little he could do about the stench, but he did take time to clean out the litter.  He laid some old newspapers on the seat and sat on them, trying to keep any stink from transferring to his clothing.  Even with the windows open, he found he needed to wear his plugs to make the situation tolerable.

Rod was unsure how they'd covered for him in his absence.  He'd half expected that they would just let the carcasses pile up on the road.  He was happy to find this was not the case.  The morning went well with just a few pickups.  Rod tried removing the plugs and was surprised at the variety of disgusting smells.  He remembered before it had all been purple with varying degrees of intensity.  It was interesting and Rod considered adding a column in his trusty log book for noting it but he soon found the smells overwhelming and put the plugs back on.  By lunchtime, the carcasses in the back of the truck were reeking powerfully.  Rod found he could not eat in the truck or even near the truck.  He hiked fifteen yards upwind and sat down by the side of the road.  There, he ate a mix of carrots and celery and topped it all off with an apple.

As the day progressed, the blazing sun turned each pickup into an increasingly uglier task.  Even with the plugs, the smell seeped in and Rod was overcome.  He began to wonder if he was really serving any purpose - for every carcass he picked up, he left a pile of vomit.  By late afternoon, he'd completely emptied his stomach but his body still felt the need to heave.  By the time his shift was over, Rod was exhausted.

After emptying the truck, Rod returned it to the department garage.  He took the keys up to Rita's desk.  She would be gone for the day already, but there was a drop box where he could leave them.  He was surprised to find Jerry waiting for him.  Rod liked Jerry and had been pleased to hear that Jerry had stopped by the hospital.  He suspected it was Jerry who brought his truck home.  Jerry had been with the department for over thirty years.  In that time he'd held almost every position imaginable.  His current assignment, supervising carcass pickup, was seen as a courtesy for all his years of service - a place where he could bide his short time until retirement.  The carcass pickup workers didn't really need much supervising.  Jerry knew all this, but still he was determined to be relevant, to help his guys where he could.

Jerry had been worried about Rod today.  He genuinely like Rod and the two had talked often enough that he knew about Rod and his "smeller troubles" as Jerry called it.  He also knew from his stop at the hospital that the doctor had high hopes for fixing all that.  Jerry was a wise man, he knew that a perfect smeller wasn't always the best thing - not when you deal with rotting carcasses all day long.

Jerry was sitting in Rita's chair.  He smiled slightly as Rod walked up.  "How'd it go out there today?" he asked.

Rod looked at Jerry.  He could lie and try to tough it out.  The old Rod would never admit when he was beaten.  But he wasn't the old Rod anymore.  "It was tough.  Really awful, actually," he said at last.

"I thought as much," Jerry remarked, nodding at the pink plugs still on Rod's nose.

Rod hastily pulled off the plugs, slightly embarrassed.  He looked at Jerry.  "Jerry, I love my job, I really do.  But I just don't know if I can do it anymore."  He wasn't sure what he was expecting Jerry to do about it, but he needed to tell someone.

Jerry nodded.  "You're one of the best, Rod.  You know that.  Still, sometimes circumstances change.  I know that better than anyone, I think.  Hang in there, Rod.  Take it slow."

Rod nodded, said goodbye and went home.  The first day back had been grueling.  Rod did not look forward to another one tomorrow.  That night he washed his uniform and took a long hot shower, scrubbing himself vigorously, determined to keep the stench at bay.

The following days were much like the first.  Rod switched to bananas for lunch.  He found they were softer on the return trip.  He was still very quiet around the others at the office, almost sullen.  Rita watched Rod with growing interest, wishing he would flirt with her once again.  He seemed oblivious to her new found interest, taking his keys and hurrying downstairs.

Rod was aware of Rita's changed attitude toward him.  He just wasn't certain what it meant.  His confidence was shaken and he was very afraid of being made a fool.  He no longer felt like he could read people, especially women.  Apparently, he had never been very good at it.  He just hadn't known.  Besides, Rod had already decided that his days with the department were numbered.  He couldn't live like this, puking his lunch all over the by-ways of Phoenix.  He asked Jerry if they could meet after his shift on Friday.  He would tender his resignation.  Hopefully, Jerry would let him forgo the two-week notice.

On Friday afternoon, Rod pulled the department truck into the garage for what he knew would be the last time.  He patted the top of the dashboard before getting out.  He'd spent a good deal of time in this old truck.  Together, they'd cleared a lot of critters.  Rod tossed his log book on his desk and headed up the stairs to Rita's desk.  He took each step slowly knowing it was the last time he would perform this routine.  After dropping off the keys, he continued down the hallway to Jerry's office.  The door was open.  Jerry was on the telephone.  Rod poked his head in and Jerry motioned for him to sit down.  Jerry wrapped up the telephone conversation quickly and looked at Rod.

"So, Rod.  What can I do for you?" Jerry asked, in an upbeat tone.

Rod was somewhat taken aback by Jerry's mood.  Maybe he'd just gotten some good news in the phone call.  Rod figured Jerry must know why Rod needed to see him.  Jerry was usually very perceptive about these sorts of things.  Rod's demeanor remained somber.  "I think you know why I'm here," Rod said.  "I can't do the job anymore."

Jerry nodded as if he'd been anticipating this.  "So, Rod," he said, matter-of-factly, "do you have something else lined up?"

Rod was beginning to feel a little annoyed that Jerry seemed so nonchalant.  He'd kind of expected that he and Jerry would commiserate about things - that Jerry might even try to talk him out of it.  Instead, Jerry seemed almost happy to send him on his way.  Maybe he'd misjudged Jerry just like the others.  He hadn't really thought of what he would do next.  He just knew he couldn't do this job.  He had ample savings, he could afford to take some time and find something else.

"I don't have anything," Rod replied quickly, "I just can't keep doing this."

Jerry smiled, clearly happy.  Rod sensed that Jerry almost seemed even happier knowing that Rod had no new job to go to.  Rod was irritated.  This meeting was not going the way he'd expected.  Now, he just wanted to clean out any personal items from his desk and leave this all behind.  Jerry could tell Rod was confused by his attitude.

"Rod, I think I've got some good news," he said, smiling broadly.

Rod looked at him, perplexed.

"When you set up this meeting, I figured you were planning on quitting," Jerry continued.  "I put in a few calls - after all my years, I know quite a few folks."  Jerry was clearly enjoying himself.  "I remembered all those notes you kept in your log books.  Remember how you used to bend my ear explaining whether the animals were hit entering or leaving the parks?"  Rod nodded.  Jerry continued, "Well, it turns out White Tank Mountain Park is setting up some sort of wildlife study.  They were pretty interested when I told them what I could recall of what you had logged.  They've got a couple of young college grads but they could use someone with some real world experience."

Rod finally realized what Jerry was proposing.  A chance to finally use all that data he'd collected.  He'd always felt that it was important, that someone should care.  Maybe he was that someone all along.  Jerry really was a good friend.

"Thank you, Jerry," Rod said, quietly.  He felt ashamed for ever thinking that Jerry might take pleasure in his misfortune.

"Don't mention it," Jerry replied. "You've earned it.  Besides, it feels good to know there are still some strings I can pull."