Load-out in Dubuque, Iowa

The crew was an hour and a half into loud-out when the bossman barked at his young, seasoned assistant.

“If you haven’t started stacking that shit in the next thirty seconds with the motor, you’re going to do it by hand!! Start with the upstage beam!”

“But the catwalk is still laying on top of the truss. I’ll have to start downstage, and then work my way up,” said the assistant, still working by himself.

“Fine!” answered the limping, frustrated boss, “Tick tick tick. You’re clock is running.” Ten seconds pass. “Don’t make me come over there son!” Another ten seconds pass. “What the fuck is taking you so long boy?!”

“First of all, don’t call me boy! Second, the locals didn’t take all of the truss pins out like I asked them to, so get off my back.” replied the more irritated assistant.

“You watch your damn mouth. Don’t you think for a second that I can’t make you life hell, son.”

“ ‘Don’t call me son, Dad’,” the assistant stated, cleverly quoting a show from his past.

“Just take the damn pins out so we can get the fuck out of Dubuque.”

That was the only thing the two could agree upon all night.

- Benjamin D. Bain