October's Disgruntled Employee of the Month: Sam Frawley Gary Newbrunswick: Congratulations, Sam. You've done a great job as our groundskeeper over the years.
Sam Frawley: Thanks, Gary. Sure is a nice office you have here. GN: Thanks, Sam. You've never seen it before? SF: No. This is the first time I've even been inside the building. Normally, I'm either outside or in my little toolshed. GN: We have a tool shed? SF: Sure, you can see it right out... there... GN: Sam? SF: Outside... GN: Sam? SF: The leaves are changing, Gary. Changing and falling, just like they always do this time of year. See that little elm there just at the crest of the hill? Hasn't even started to show color yet. She'll hold on as long as she can, but in the end, she'll drop her patchwork burdern of yellows and reds and oranges, just like the rest. It's a beautiful show for a time, Gary, but it all ends up as so much mulch on the ground. GN: Yeeees. So... uh. How long have you worked here? SF: 43 years. That's 43 times I've been on these grounds to see the cold weight of winter slowly melt away and give birth to the awkward unveiling of spring. 43 times I've noticed the birds and the bugs return from wherever more sensible creatures go to hide from the frozen months. 43 times the sun has grown bold over the summer and bullied the days into letting him preside over more time than even a celestial body has a right to. And now, for the 43rd time we'll see the trees put on their colors like a grand finale in a fireworks show played at super-slow motion. GN: Right. So you'll have a lot of raking to do. SF: I suppose so. That's my little part in the pageant of nature, that neverending cycle of death and re-birth. It always reminds me to- GN: Say do you ever have to pull the little weeds that grow between the cracks in the pavement? SF: Well, a couple times, I - GN: Cause I hate doing that. Sometimes they're prickly. SF: Nature has a way of - GN: Say, speaking of getting rid of things, you see this huge tree outside my window here? SF: That venerable old Lodgepole Pine? A stately old lady, she is. GN: Well, the one right outside my window here. Whatever it is. SF: Yes. GN: Let's see what we can do about getting rid of that, could you? SF: Cutting it down? GN: Right. It kind of blocks my view a little bit. SF: Well, sir. If you were to just move your desk a few inches to - GN: Hey, I don't tell you how to do your job, do I? SF: Well, sometimes. GN: Cut it down. SF: OK, sir. GN: Hey, have you ever thought about trying to carve a bush into the shape of Cap'n Wacky? SF: Exuse me, sir, I really should be going. GN: Really? What's the rush? SF: I'm sorry I've got something in my eye. (He rushes out.) GN: Crybaby.
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