The Early Days Pt 4 in which I do some stretching and prepping for my first day on the job
“Okay Levi, come on,” I pleaded, tugging on the leash. As soon as Levi felt that tug he plopped right down, and looked at me with a face that said,
“Fat chance.”
Okay…I thought. No more tugging. Ricky was standing at the bottom of the stairs, dramatically tapping his foot, looking at his watch, waiting for me to follow him.
“Jamie, the dogs need to go out. Can you handle this? Or should I bring Levi down?” He said this in a silky-smooth voice, the nicest he had used so far. He was good. Shame was my number one motivator.
“No, no, I got it!” I kept my tone upbeat, then turned back to Levi. I was afraid that if I pulled the leash he might…maul me. So, I thought I’d try to make a trip down the stairs sound exciting. I made a quick skipping movement with my feet and said,
“Okay! Come on boy!” As if he’d been planning to all along, Levi clambered to his feet and, without looking at me, began stalking toward the stairs. I am pretty sure it wasn’t my skip that did the trick. Maybe he really had to pee. Maybe he had seen Ricky put a bunch of people through this and didn’t want to see how far I was willing to go to get him down the stairs. In any case, Levi followed me. Slowly. Careful not to let me fall prey to the illusion that I was the leader for as long as we remained in our current predicament.
As we made our way down the stairs I clung to the wall and walked directly in front of Levi, blocking him from passing by me and taking the lead. Each time he attempted to move around me I stepped over and didn’t let him pass. I felt like kind of a jerk, but Ricky, who was unabashedly watching and judging my descent, seemed satisfied. It was harder to keep Levi behind me with every step, but somehow I managed and we made our way through the double building doors and out into the cool January air.
As soon as my feet hit the sidewalk, Ricky turned to me and said,
“Levi doesn’t like other dogs much, and they don’t like him. Be careful.” Then he set off at a brisk pace, the three little dogs in his charge scurrying to keep up.
I looked down at Levi, he looked back at me, waiting for my next idiot move.
“Let’s go, bud,” I tried to sound convincing. I felt like a junior camp counselor trying to get a kid who wasn’t much younger and seemed much cooler than me to do my bidding. Levi stalled for a moment, just to show me that he could, then set off after the others. The last thing Levi needed was to be left alone with me.
I followed Ricky and we stopped periodically at trees and fire hydrants so the dogs could relieve themselves. Thankfully, since Ricky had given me no instruction on what I were to do in the case that Levi and I ran into a dog he didn’t like, our pack didn’t run into any other pups as we made our way around the block. When we got back to the door Ricky smiled, but there was some malevolence dancing in the corners of that mouth, and I could tell he was going to do something he thought was pretty funny.
“Okay, now, make sure to keep Levi behind you as you walk up the stairs so he doesn’t drag you.” I nodded my head, “Okay, got it.”
Ricky opened the door and headed for the stairs, leading his three little pups up behind him. I stood, waiting for them to gain half the staircase before I started, but Levi had other plans. Suddenly, he lunged for the stairs. Before I could even think I was running up the stairs behind him so that I wouldn’t fall flat on my face. In a moment we had gained on Ricky, who was in no rush even though he must have heard the calamity ensuing only steps behind.
Levi effortlessly stalked right over the other dogs, with me being dragged, barely staying on my feet behind him. I flew up along the side of the wall, passing Ricky, and didn’t stop until Levi was face-to-face with the door. I turned back and Ricky was staring at me. His eyes were wide, but he didn’t look surprised. He looked like he had confirmed what he’d been thinking all along; that I was about as dim-witted as they come.
This dog walking thing was going to be harder than I’d thought.
When Ricky and I reentered his apartment, the pretty brown-haired woman whom I now knew was named Alicia was scrambling around getting ready. She gave me a nod of recognition and a half smile, and then turned to Ricky.
“I have to run. My mom will be here with Angela soon.”
“Okay, Stinky. Have a nice day.”
I almost threw up in my mouth. Guys who assign pet names like “Stinky” to their significant others have always made my skin crawl.
Ricky told me to just wait and watch. His mornings were busy and he thought I’d learn more from experience than explanation. I seated myself back in the love seat so as to be out of the way. Ricky offered me a cigarette, which I accepted, and he lit one for himself. He sat down at his desk, which housed two impressive, giant flat-screened computers. He pulled up a giant calendar on Excel, and waited for walkers to begin arriving to pick up their keys for the day.
People would text Ricky “here” and he would bounce up to buzz the buzzer, then open the door to usher in each walker. First came Carmella, a deeply tan woman who couldn’t have been taller than five feet. Carmella’s short hair was chopped asymmetrically and dyed an eccentric color, which I later learned was technically termed ‘Electric Banana Yellow.’ She wore bright lip-gloss and dark eyeliner, and she spoke in an Italian accent so thick that I only understood about every third word. It took her a moment to notice me but when she did she cocked her head to the side, let her giant sparkly-pink-glossed lips take the shape of an over-emphasized “O” and bellowed;
“Hell-low!” Right off the bat I knew that this woman’s physical size was a fraction of the size of her personality.
Ricky motioned Carmella over to the schedule, which he had printed and taped to a wall beside his key hooks. As I listened to Ricky talk to the walkers, I came to realize that the spreadsheet showed all of the dogs that needed to be walked that day. Each walker had a color, which coordinated with a list of dogs and windows of times that the walker had to pick them up.
Ricky motioned to the sheet and began to instruct Carmella about how she should go about her day, suggesting the order in which she should do things, the sort of goals she should give herself, time-wise. He said things like,
“See here, if you don’t get Bingo by 12 you’re going to be running behind for Harry at four.” Carmella interjected often with,
“No! Bingo would rather walk with Arthur. I will get him at 11. That way I can get these guys before two.” Carmella gesticulated wildly at the timeline. She spoke loudly, all the time motioning to specific dogs and windows.
“This one is crazy if I come with dogs to his apartment.” I was surprised to see Ricky allow Carmella to carry on this way, to speak over him and assert such differing opinions. To each counterpoint that Carmella interjected, Ricky responded with deep nods and said things like,
“Alright, that’s fine.” At the end of their discussion, Ricky took down a giant ring of keys attached to a carabineer and handed it to Carmella. “Have a nice day.”
“Okay, you too.” She turned to me before she left and gave me a big smile. “Goo-luck!”
Ricky repeated these actions with Noah , the guy with the cap that I had met the evening before. Ricky’s interaction with him was very different than it had been with Carmella.
First, Noah and Ricky both lit cigarettes upon the former’s arrival. Then, Noah didn’t argue when Ricky told him how he should go about his day, though he did linger to say one or two things about each of the dogs that Ricky listed, updating Ricky on their behaviors. Ricky neither encouraged nor deflected the constant chatter. Noah seemed to take himself very seriously, and Ricky took himself even more seriously in front of Noah than he had in front of Carmella. He spoke to him the way a professor might speak to his star pupil.
Then Tracy came in, and Ricky was noticeably less pleasant toward her than he had been with the others. He almost seemed bored as he said, “You’re going to have to run between these two,” he pointed to two dogs on Tracy’s schedule.
“No! I thought you were taking him out of my schedule, I told you that it’s almost impossible for me to make it.” Ricky looked down at Tracy like a parole officer looking at an ex-con.
“If you can’t do it, and I can’t give you clients. If you can’t do the work I assign you, then we’re going to have a problem. Figure out a way to get there.” Tracy sighed and wrote down her schedule on one of the little notebooks that all of the walkers carried.
Before she left she shot me a smile and I shot one back. It didn’t bother her that I’d overheard the way Ricky spoke to her. Maybe that was what Ricky found so “awkward” about Tracy. She didn’t have run-of-the-mill reactions to people or things. That was one of the things that had drawn me to her. When I’d first met Tracy, in freshman English class, my teacher was explaining similes to the class. Tracy was unabashedly sleeping in the second row, her head nestled in her arms, her eyes closed, her breathing measured and audible. The teacher, Mr. Sharkey, tried to frazzle her. In the middle of speaking he paused, and walked over to her desk. He tapped her on the shoulder and said,
“Ms. Panfil, an example of a simile?” The whole class turned to look at Tracy. Without missing a beat, she lifted her head, eyes opened to slits, she looked right at Sharkey and said, in a nasally voice, dripping with irony,
“I’m hot, like the sun,” then collapsed back into her arms. I was the only one to burst out laughing. The rest of the class looked confused and embarrassed for her. She often had that effect on people.
After Tracy left, Tommy came in. He was a gaunt looking man that I would later find out was in his mid-30s, though his gray hair, grizzled face and starved-look made him look closer to 50. He let out a few grunts as Ricky gave him notes on his day. Neither man looked at the other before Tommy was off on his way. They didn’t seem to be one another’s type.
The last walker to come in was the freckle-faced, (orange)-red haired woman named Nelly. The entire time the walkers had been stomping in and out I had been cuddling with the boarding dogs on the loveseat in Ricky’s tiny living room. The little orange and white spotted dog, named Rover, was lounging in my lap, which he shared with Benny the little white…breed that I couldn’t remember. The dogs and I had taken to one another quickly; their wide eyes acknowledged my gentle intentions and they lolled in my lap, shooting disgruntled looks at me every time I took my hand off of their heads or bellies. No human had paid any attention to me, and I was content to watch the morning walker-check-in process. When Nelly came in, she took off her coat and sat down in a chair to my right. She was the first one to start a conversation with me:
“So, Jamie, how was your first night in New York?”
How was sharing in a twin loft bed in an apartment that looked and smelled like no one had so much as wiped one surface with a paper towel in at least two years?
“So far, so good”, I replied, through a smile.
“Are you excited to be a dog walker?” This time, I didn’t have to think about my answer.
“I really am. Seems like the best job in the world.” Nelly responded with a downcast look and an ominous, inward chuckle.
“Jamie, Nelly’s going to be managing the business soon. She’s in training, too, so she’ll spend some time with us. Nelly, maybe you can prepare Jamie for her first day a little. Give her an idea of what she’s in for.” Nelly looked at me and smiled, self-consciously.
“Well, you look like you’re…athletic.” Nelly nodded her head toward me, granting a point.
“Don’t make assumptions,” Ricky interjected. “You don’t know that she’s athletic.” Nelly looked at Ricky, shook her head as if to shake off the mistake and said,
“Right! Sorry.” Then, she turned back to me, and I watched her try to take a more comfortable approach. Nelly took in a big breath, and then let it out while looking my way, as if we both needed to loosen up.
“It was hard on me when I started. Walking so much, I mean. Do, uhh…do you think it will be hard on…you?”
“How can she know if it will be hard on her she has no idea what you’re talking about.” Ricky was staring hard at Nelly and she turned a little red.
“I-I mean the walking. It’s a lot of walking.”
“It’s not just walking, there are a lot of parts to this job that make it tiring, Nelly. She doesn’t know that.” His interjection wasn’t stern. It was worse than that. It was like he was talking to a first grader, explaining to a small child that tying one’s shoes required a series of steps.
Nelly didn’t look annoyed. I wondered if everyone who worked here was oblivious to insult or just good and practiced at wearing a mask of contentment. It didn’t seem like Ricky was the kind of guy you wanted to argue with. He had a knack for embarrassing people.
Nelly turned back to me, eyes bright, artificial smile shining.
“Ricky’s right. The dogs are tugging on the leashes, and you’re trying to cover ground pretty quickly.” I discovered the hint of a southern twang in that ‘pretty quickly’.
“I remember when I first started, I was really sore. How do you feel about strenuous physical activity?”
I don’t feel very good about it, Nelly.
“I’m excited! I love to be outside so I think this is going to be great.”
“And you aren’t nervous about being out all day in the cold?”
The thought is making me want to vomit.
“Are you kidding? I’m from Chicago! I love the cold.”
“You love the cold?” Ricky’s words dripped with skepticism.
“That’s surprising. Your jacket doesn’t look so warm. Do you spend much time outside in the winter?”
My winter jacket was one of those giant faux fur hoods that reeked of stale cigarettes. The fur grew out of some plasticky-looking material, which fended off the wind about as well as a garbage bag might have. Often, while taking smoke breaks or dodging between apartments and cars back at home, I didn’t even bother putting it on. I’d moved out here without a pair of gloves to my name and no scarf. Tracy had lent me a scratchy maroon winter hat, and I had balked at that until she took a step toward me and forced it into my hand with a look that said, “You have no idea what you’re in for.”
“Sure! Sometimes I take nice long walks in the winter. I love a cold breeze.” A cold breeze coming off Lake Michigan was liable to kill you. I did my best not to set foot outside between November and April.
Ricky smiled at me and I smiled back, playing along as if I were really fooled into believing that he was being warm. Nelly moved on.
“Well, you get pretty stiff in the cold weather. My life changed when I started stretching before and after work. I think if you do that you’ll have an easier time through training.”
“Nelly, why don’t you show her some stretches?”
Nelly stood up and began a series of stretches and lunges, throwing her arms into the air and her legs out in front of her, stopping to explain each position to me; where I should feel the stretch, and how it would help me. I rolled the dogs off of my lap and stood up, trying, clumsily, to follow along, and all the while Ricky was watching and saying things like,
“Jamie that’s the wrong leg. Look at what Nelly’s doing.”
“Oh, ha, whoops! You’re right.” This was moronic, but I just kept smiling, happy that my dog walking training was safely indoors, so far.
“Nelly she’s not doing that right. Put her in position. She doesn’t mind being touched.” At this I felt a jolt. She doesn’t mind being touched? When Ricky’d asked if he could touch my arm that morning, had I given over bodily consent for the rest of training?
Nelly turned to me, checked my position, and moved my hips forward from the back. She smiled. I smiled. This was all a little weird.
After we were done stretching and smiling, Ricky sat me down and told me I would be training with Nelly that day.
“Every day you’ll walk with one of the walkers. You need to keep track of time.” He handed me a notebook.
“We start time as soon as the dog leaves their building, and end time right before they go in.” He leaned forward like this was a difficult concept to understand and he wanted to be absolutely clear.
“The clock runs only when you’re outside. Those dogs never step into their buildings a minute early.” I let forth an exaggerated nod “got it.” He looked skeptical. I smiled.
“You’re not going into the buildings today. You’ll wait outside while Nelly gets the dogs.” He paused and let his eyes wander over my outfit.
“And what’s on your jeans?” I looked down at the knee of my jeans where someone had written “Emo” in block-letter permanent marker.
“Oh, ha, I call these my graffiti jeans.” Ricky didn’t find this as endearing as I’d hoped.
“We try to look like we fit into the buildings we work in. ‘Graffiti jeans’ are not going to impress our clients. You need to start saving for new clothes.” Who the hell did this guy think he was talking to? I’d wear whatever god damned jeans I wanted. I struggled to meet his eyes and nod. I could tell by his growing smirk that he’d noticed my annoyance.
“Speaking of shopping, I guess we should talk money. You get paid $50 a day for training. After that, you make commission. We start at 65%. That’s better than you’ll find anywhere else. Most company owners pay their people hourly and rip them off. I don’t do that. I want the best walkers, so I pay for the best. In cash.” He paused.
“That’s why I’m allowed to be demanding.” He nodded his head forward and gave me a sickly smile. I gulped.
“The Upper West Side is the most expensive place to live in New York City. You’re going to be working for people who make more in a week than your parents did in a year.” I felt like I should have been offended by that, but I wasn’t surprised by this minor detail.
“Speaking of parents, we call owners parents. Never ‘owners’. And if I ever hear you refer to a dog as an ‘it’ you’re fired. Dogs are ‘he’ or ‘she’, never ‘it’. Understand?”
“Understood,” I said, and jumped to my feet. Ricky seemed unimpressed by my enthusiasm. He gave me a look that told me I had no idea what I was in for. I followed Nelly out, down the stairs.
When we reached the ground-floor landing Nelly, unlike Ricky, held the door for me as I walked out. When we hit the sidewalk, she lit a cigarette.
“If you want to have a last smoke before we start, now’s your chance.” I reached into my bag and pulled out a cigarette, and we smoked and walked south on Columbus toward 72nd street.
TO BE CONTINUED….
