How Catholic guilt lead to a $3,000 car repair.
There I was, the Monday night before Easter, warming a stool at Jimmy’s. Jimmy’s on Monday nights, watching Monday Night Raw with the lovely Heather, bartender extraordinaire, was becoming a tradition. With my work schedule, Monday is my Friday, so, there you have it.
This wasn’t just the Monday before Easter. It was the Monday before the court date on Wednesday to finalize the divorce. Quite possibly the last Monday/Friday night out I was going to get in a while once child support and shared parenting began. I was hoping to make the night last, but seeing as it was just me and Heather, and the final hour of Raw was starting, that hope was fleeting.
Then Jim walked in. Not the Jimmy the bar’s namesake. White dude, ball cap, mid thirties, wearing a landscaping t shirt. He was already sporting a tan from working, even that early in April. He sat a few stools down, ordered a drink, and started playing Keno. He asked if we always watched wrestling on Monday nights, and casually joined in our conversation.
After a bit, Jim went and checked his Keno numbers. That’s when the fun began. Continue reading