As I look outside it is snowing like a cold day in Hell.  I spent my afternoon drag-assing through this miserable slop.  A thick, wet blanket of snow covers everything.

People who spend their lives inside love snow.  They watch it fall past their office windows, sighing wistfully while some stupid grease monkey scrapes the pavement so they don’t have to get their shoes wet.  I am that stupid grease monkey.

I thundered along behind the snowblower this afternoon, spraying slush on every car I could.  There was nowhere else for me to put the snow, but depositing it on someone’s freshly washed Lexus is like a special treat for me.  Enjoy your dry feet when you’re scraping filth and ice off your windshield, cocksuckers.

A woman waved to me to get my attention.  She pointed behind me.  I stopped my machine and turned to see a man in his late thirties approaching me.  He cracked a smile – the kind of smile that implies that he wants something for nothing – and his mouth began to move.

Why anyone attempts to talk to me while I’m running equipment is beyond me.  Further complicating matters were my headphones, concealed inside my cap and hood, blaring at full volume.

Listening to the man would have involved removing my gloves, unzipping my Carhartt, and thumbing a code into my Blackberry to pause the music.  I did none of this.

He must have mistaken my look of disgust for one of confusion.  He came closer, put his arm around my shoulder, and shouted into my ear:

“A nice guy would clean up in front of my steps for me . . . “

I bit my lower lip, suppressing the urge to shove the bastard for his uninvited physical contact.

“What!?” I asked.

Not because I couldn’t hear him, but because the son-of-a-bitch had stopped me in my work to ask me to back-track to clear up a small area that I am not responsible for.

It would have taken me longer to go back than for him to have done it himself with a shovel.  I shook my head at him.  He repeated his request – assuming I hadn’t heard him – putting extra emphasis on the “nice guy” part.

I am not a nice guy.

He looked at me with an expression of bovine stupidity.  I shrugged his arm off my shoulder, shaking my head as I walked away.