a short story by Dave McCarty
Not all Bad is Evil
His heavily calloused hands finished lacing his brown work boots. Doug Schkloivich slowly stood up. His joints ached, his near fifty year old frame sagged. He pulled his winter cap over his ears and stepped out of the door to another bitter, grey, cold, winter morning.
The engine rolled over a few times before starting. The rusted dingy white van backed away from the depressed one story brown house. Doug was particularly unhappy this morning. His body was still aching from last week, and now he had to push it through another week of misery. Working in construction had started as a summer job in high school and the pay was great. While some of his friends were broke and struggling through college, Doug was living high. Twenty-six years later, he pulled into the makeshift dirt parking lot stepped down and slammed his door shut.
The cheap three story apartment complex they were building was typical for this part of town. Dilapidated buildings remained, physically representing the sagging economy. “Hello Harris,” Doug nodded his head at his co-worker “how’s the family?”
Harris’s mouth smiled, his eyes did not. “oh everything’s good, how bout’ you?”
“Good, good.”
Two cups of joe already gone Doug stopped to rest. He headed into the small overseers office where others were also warming their numb hands. Hungry he looked up at the clock, 12:46. Hmm, he stopped to think for a second. Lunch with my wife! 12:30! He raced out to the van. Pedal to the metal made little difference to the tired engine. Doug arrived at the Olive Garden at 12:54 and talked with the hostess who informed him that his wife had already left. He stomped outside and back into the van. Back at the worksite he decided a hotdog from a local vendor would serve as his lunch.
Doug ignored the stares from some of the local bums as he walked to the vendors’ beat-up metal stand. “What’ell be sihr?’ asked the older black vendor.
“Just one hot dog relish, and a coke.”
“That’ll be two-twentah-fii” the vendor’s hands moved rhetorically getting the hot dog, “ahre you workin’ on that builidin’?”
Doug sighed “yeah that’s me all right.”
The vendor handed him his hotdog and smiled “jus mahke it two dollars sihr.” Doug smiled back and pulled out his wallet, things were improve—
A quick brown hand grabbed Doug’s thick leather wallet and wrenched it from his grip. The thief accelerated to a sprint on the sidewalk, while Doug turned, dropped the hotdog, and pounded after him. Doug gained on him as adrenaline was being pumped through his body. This thief was fast, not too old either, and maybe in another place he would have a track scholarship to college; here quick hands and quick feet meant only one thing. Doug managed to gain a few steps on the black curly haired thief, but with every breath his heaving chest told him he couldn’t pursue the chase any longer. He pushed off his right leg diving forward for the thief. His arm caught him around the waist grabbing and slipping off as the thief twisted turned and continued running, escaping. Doug hit the ground hard on his hip, as he watched the brown colored thief running off into to the distance, and then tried to get up. Even with adrenaline flowing his hip was screaming in pain. He limped back past the vendor, who offered his consolations and a free hotdog, to his work place. He went to the medicine cabinet and quickly downed several pain killers. A few or his co-workers asked him what had happened and relayed their sympathy as he told the story. Doug’s boss heard the news and gave the local police a call. He told Doug to take the rest of the day off after he finished talking with the police. Doug just sat in the chair shocked and angry. He was so close to catching the guy, so close. Jonathan stepping into the small office brought a smile to Doug’s tired face. They had been buddies for around twelve years. “Geez, how you doing?” Jonathan asked as he squeezed into the chair adjacent to Doug.
Doug breathed heavily. “Three-hundred and sixteen dollars, that’s how much I had in my wallet. It was a surprise for Claire for our anniversary, I had this ring picked out.” He shook his head “I didn’t want to keep it in the bank so that it would be a total surprise, but now I’m just a total --” He cursed.
Jonathan did his best to console him but it wasn’t an easy loss to deal with: the loss of money, the loss of the surprise, the loss of joy from the recipient, and the future hassle with re-issuing all of the cards. Jonathans loosing struggle ended when the police arrived at quarter past one.
“Hello sir, my name is Officer Charles Bryant and this is my partner Mike Shanahan. Now we’ll be recording this conversation so if you could state your name and that you understand this conversation is being recorded willingly with your consent, we can begin.” The two officers pulled up chairs and sat down.
“My name is Doug Schkloivich, uh I know that this is being recorded and uh give my consent.”
“Thank you, this is Officer Charles Bryant case number 30712 b. Now Mr. Sch—uh Doug could you state in your own words what happened.”
The small black tape recorder whirled to a stop and snapped the tape just after they had finished their conversation. “Ahh again? Dang, this stupid thing does this all the time, but don’t worry we can splice the tape back together real easy.”
“So what’s the point of recording it?” asked Doug.
“Well if this case went to trial, ideally, this could save you a trip to court and make it easier for the state to negotiate a plea bargain without burdening the courts.” Officer Bryant had used a similar line so many times he almost believed it.
Doug leaned forward, forearms on knees “Ok guys you have to level with me I like to shoot straight. What are the real chances of you finding him or recovering anything?”
Both officers looked away, “Well Sir” it was Officer Shanahan speaking for the first time, “with pick-pocketers its very difficult to establish a case against them even if we can find them, now I assure you we’ll look. Well do everything we can, but you have to understand there’s not much we can do.”
The officers gave him a form for a temporary license and left. Doug went outside to the van, each step causing more pain then the next. He climbed in sat down and sighed. He looked out at the enclosing gray sky as he drove home.
The squeal of the brakes in the driveway signaled the van’s arrival home. Doug lumbered up to the house and opened the bronze door handle with his key. Clare came to the door. “Doug?”
He limped two steps to the couch and sat down sinking in. Worry and concern were etched into her face, “What’s happened? You’re hurt.” Doug relayed the episode at work downplaying it as much as possible. He lied about how much cash was in his wallet. Nothing new was brought up until “Well did you cancel the cards?” Clare asked.
“Ahh, I to---”
“Don’t worry about it” Clare’s voice soothed. “Just sit there, I’ll get the phone.” She walked across the brown worn carpet into the next room and came back with the cordless phone and a can of beer. “So is that why you missed our lunch date?”
“Ah I wish I could say it was. I’m sorry babe, I was just working late and didn’t notice.” He set his beer on the counter.
“Ohhh” her eyes watered before she turned and headed towards the master bedroom.
Doug spent several minutes with the automated service before finally reaching a human. When he finally did she sounded like a high-schooler.
“Visa customer service this is Mindy. How may I help you today?”
“Hello Mindy, my name is Doug and I need to cancel a credit card.”
“Did you lose it in one of our ATM machines, because if so we have--”
“No Mindy. My card was stolen; now I need cancel it.” Doug’s words were measured.
“Ok Sir can I have you card number, name and social security number”
“2142 2006 6121 0242 my--”
“One second sir, could you repeat that?”
Doug breathed heavily, “2142 2006 6121 0242, got it?”
“Got it, sir!” her voice higher than ever.
Doug rolled his eyes, “My last name is Schkloivich S as in snake c as--”
“Oh sir, that’s not necessary just spell it to me.”
You know how many times my last name is screwed up? Fine. “S-c-h-k-l-o-i-v-i-c-h”
“Sir was that a ‘s-h’ or a ‘c-h’”
“Mindy, that would be ‘c-h’ c as in car h as in hat. Now are you ready for my social? She was silent, so he continued. “512—
“—What was that sir?”
Doug spoke louder “C AS IN CAR, H—“
“—Sorry Sir I can’t hear you there’s a lot of static on the line.”
Doug smacked the phone against his had a few times, “C as in CAR, H as in HOUSE! Now my SOCIAL is 512-06-3278!”
Mindy didn’t sound so chipper. “Ok sir. I’ve punched everything into the computer so your card is canceled and we’ll be sending you a replacement in the mail within two weeks, and thank you for calling Visa customer service.” Doug shook his head, turned off the phone and tried to relax with some TV and beer.
Doug heard the small mechanical tick, and quickly turned off his alarm before it could go off. Claire was awake in bed. “Honey I don’t think you should go to work today.” Usually Doug would argue but not today. She had set up an appointment with their local doctor. Doug protested but only half heartedly.
Two extra hours of sleep and a short trip later Doug sat in the carpeted waiting room. A blaring TV near the ceiling entertained no one. “Mr. Schla-kaa-kovitch” the receptionist called out looking down at a clip board. “Follow me please.” She led them to a small room where she performed some basic and needless tests before informing them that the doctor would be there shortly. Eventually the elderly Dr. Kennedy arrived in the room; he gave a friendly smile “So, Doug, tell me what happened.” Tests, X-rays, a lunch out and they were back in Dr. Kennedy’s office. His face showed concern behind him x-rays were resting on a backlit board.
“Well, Doug there is reason to be concerned. Let me show you why.” He stood and pointed at specific points around the x-ray of Doug’s hip explaining the extent of his injury. “Now there’s not much we can do, with this kind of injury they usually fully heal but it takes time. You know you’ll --
“Excuse me, but how much time are we talking about here?” interjected Doug.
“A minimum of two months, and if after four months if we don’t see enough improvement we can do surgery. But generally we don’t like to have to operate if we don’t have to.” Doug shook his head, eyes on the floor. “If you try to do any sort of heavy work you could permanently damage the hip. Doug, I was wondering, do you have work insurance?”
Claire jumped in. “It’s just that, work insurance I’ve been on the phone with those..! people and they’re refusing Doug’s claim because he wasn’t specifically on the worksite, were still working with that, but two months.” They continued discussing Doug’s new future, and limitations. Dejected they returned home neither saying much.
The small red light indicating a phone message stopped blinking as Claire pressed play. Beep “Hello Mr. Sko-lo-kavitch, this is Nancy with your local First American Bank. Now we were told you canceled your credit card, and there’s a charge on it that day so if you can give me a call we can look into that.” Claire frowned at the machine; Doug flipped his jacket back on.
“I’m going there directly and talking to a person. I’ve had enough with customer service.” Doug angrily limped out the door to the van.
“Next please.”
Doug stepped forward, “Hello I need to speak with a, Nancy”
“See that wooden desk behind you on your left?” She pointed, “That’s hers, she should be back any minute.” Doug made his way past all the people in the bank. Mayor Baylor was up for re-election and on the local campaign trail. Nancy an aging woman with red hair, sat down behind her desk.
“Hello sir, how may I help you today?” she asked with just the right amount of sincerity.
“Hello, my name is Doug Schkloivich, you called me about a--”
“Oh yes, now could you tell me your bank account number.” Her poised fingers pecked each key as Doug voiced each number.
“Ok, Mr. Schkloivich now this shows here that yesterday the 13th you withdrew four hundred from an ATM, or at least four hundred was withdrawn on your card.”
Dougs eyebrows shot up in surprise, “But I canceled the card.” Another four hundred dollars!?
She picked up her phone. “Ok, Mr. Schkloivich let me make a call and see what I can do.
Nancy’s patience broke as she insulted the customer service manager that she was speaking with and slammed down the phone. She let out a sigh of frustrated exasperation. “Ok, here’s what they said,” but Doug already knew the money was gone. The explanation about the particulars of ATM withdrawal and canceled cards didn’t matter to Doug. Whether it was a professional that did it or not, didn’t matter. He felt as low as any time in his life, but soon this feeling was replaced by the common emotion of anger.
I’ve lost the money for the ring, now another four hundred dollars, hospital bills, and I’m out of work! He clenched his jaw and started walking out of the bank. Slick Mayor Baylor was giving a speech about the newly planned improvements. Doug was looking to pick a fight. Last year the Mayor had approved a budget decreasing the public school funding, Doug wasn’t impressed. He made his way to the front of the small crowd and interrupted the Mayor’s speech “MAYOR BAYLOR! DO YOU FEEL BETTER ROADS ARE A SUBSTITUTE FOR BETTER EDUCATION?!
The polished Mayor looked surprised and his aids quickly went towards Doug as the Mayor tried to “Well as within any administration and budget--” a though came to Dougs mind “MAYOR BAYLOR! HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF I WERE TO DONATE 10,000 DOLLARS TO THE EDUCATION FUND?
“Well Education of children is always one of the most important and fundamental--” he paused as Doug pulled out his check book and wrote the check. This idiot the check will bounce and he’s going to promote me as a hero. “Well sir here, step forward, let him come.” The guards backed away. Doug presented the mayor with the check and the mayor gave a rhetorical speech about the citizens that made this town special. Doug hated every second standing next to the slick Mayor as people clapped and several cameras flashed. Doug walked away from the bank with a cynical satisfaction.
Claire wasn’t as impressed. “You shouldn’t have done that” she admonished but with no conviction.
“Look for the twenty-five dollars the bounced check will cost me it was well worth it. She reluctantly agreed. There was no energy to argue; they had difficult times ahead.
A little over a week later, Doug while sitting at home, saw the mail truck pull up. He limped out to get the mail, trying to be useful since Claire was working now. Inside he looked through the pile, throwing out unwanted mail unopened. He pulled out the thick envelope from VISA and set the rest of the mail down. Opening it he found more than the usual generic letters. Aside from his re-issued card was his current statement and a yellow sheet with a hand written note on it. They had misspelled his name as usual. “We have recredited your account to its original balance, sorry for any technical inconveniences you may have encountered.” His eyes opened wide as he looked at his bank account total at the bottom right hand corner, 11,013.54 Some technical error was fine with Doug he almost jumped for joy, a 11,000 dollar error in his favor was always good news. He smiled a broad smile. That visa girl, ha ha that idiot, thanks. He quickly and joyously looked through the rest of the mail. He almost threw out one from the mayor’s office but it was hand written. Curiosity got the better of him and he opened it. Inside lay a hand-written note.
Thank you for your generous donation, the Mayors office
is dedicated to helping special individuals like yourself.
James Thomas Baylor
Mayor James Thomas Baylor
No, NO No. No it’s impossible. Doug’s mind raced, he dialed the bank.
“Hello First American Bank, how may I help you?” A male voice greeted him.
“Could you tell me the balance on bank account number 552602858?” After proving his identity, the voice answered him.
“Sir there is one thousand thirteen dollars and fifty-four cents. Sir? There was a large transaction just several days ago for ten thousand dollars. Is there a problem sir? Hello ..Sir …Sir?”
Click.