Book of Jamez

55 y/o malcontent, something of a writer

Tag: fiction

  • My Brother

    My Brother

    A week ago today I received the call from my nephew that his dad, my brother, had died.

    Ryan was three years younger than me, born in 1973. Like me tattoos covered his body, though his were mostly black and gray and mine are colorful… I asked him why he didn’t do color once and he just said it wasn’t for him. Unlike me, he had a head full of hair and could grow a full beard.

    He was 50% deaf in each ear since birth. When I was very young I recall my mother explaining to me that my little brother would be deaf and needed extra care. I cried so hard that day and remember running to my room just bawling like a baby. As he grew up and through childhood he would often, at least I think it was often, pretend he couldn’t hear you just so he didn’t have to do something. He would even go so far as to turn down his hearing aids – little shit. When he was much older he finally went through the procedure for ocular implants and he says it changed his world. There was also an app that he used with his phone and it was like someone was talking direct in his head he said. His lack of hearing never stopped him from loving music and he would head bang with the best of them.

    Ryan, Jamie, Dawn and Amy

    I couldn’t ever catch him when we were playing tag. I would chase and chase but he was a fast fucker that zigged and zagged and was always just out of reach. Once when I couldn’t catch him I grabbed the nearest item, I think it was an old empty gasoline can, and I pitched it at him, hit him in the head… and of course he needed stitches.

    Not to be outdone in everything, if he was winning a wrestling match against me I would fake an injury and he would get legitimately concerned that he hurt me some how and it pained him just the thought of that.

    When I was twenty my mother called and said she was moving to Florida and if I didn’t come to care for my younger siblings they would be placed in foster care. I didn’t want that to happen so I uprooted my life and went to live in Taylor, WI with Amy and Ryan. Truthfully it was a disaster – I couldn’t take care of myself let alone two teenagers. All we did was drink and smoke and party. It wasn’t long before social services came and took them both. While we were living together I grew concerned about Ryan’s drinking and alcohol (I couldn’t see my own addiction) and sent him off to treatment. He was so mad and didn’t think he was an alcoholic but we sent him anyway. He didn’t sign up for AA or let that become his new life and he was resentful about my sending him – we made amends many years later about it.

    Ryan did spend some time in the local prison. I don’t really remember the charges and it doesn’t matter now. While he was there he bettered himself, he came out with knowledge – he spent time learning and reading and doing things he didn’t do when he was younger. He was a lot smarter when he got out.

    Years go by quickly and we both grew up. I let alcohol and drugs consume my life early and found a way out when I was still in my twenties. Ryan found heroin later in life and it took its toll. I don’t know how long he had been without it when he passed, but I know it was a real struggle for him. He was always a stoner in our younger years and loved pot, but the heavy stuff wasn’t part of what we did back then. Duluth is where that part of his life happened and while he was there he was incommunicado wouldn’t answer calls of posts from us siblings. The heroin ate away at the relationships.

    We didn’t have the best life growing up and I know he didn’t have the best life as an adult either. He struggled and lived near poverty.

    A Celebration of Life was held on Saturday for him. There were memories shared, tears shed and laughter at hi jinx in our youth. His favorite two uncles came to pay their respects, among others. Ryan would have loved that, loved to see all those people together. We had coolers full of Mountain Dew, his favorite and just sat there on a rainy Saturday in sadness.

    I don’t consider myself a good brother. Many failures run through my head, things I could have done better for him or times I should have tried to reach out. I picked him up for a recent get together with Dawn and Amy when my Ma was in hospice. On the way home he bawled and spoke about how tired he was of fighting, how much work it was just to live. He had COPD and it’s a hard disease to live with. I let him talk and cry, but I offered no comfort, no soothing words or help – I had none. Do you lie to someone who’s dying and let them think there is some fragile hope out there that will make it better… I couldn’t. I just sat there in silence. I’m not a good brother.

    I will miss Ryan. We didn’t spend much time together and lived states apart, but I’ll miss him anyway. When I think of going “home” to Wisconsin he’s one of the things I think about…. but no more. I don’t believe in a hereafter or souls. I think he’s just done fighting and gone.

  • My Story in Inside Sales

    My Story in Inside Sales

    I was working in a call center at a small business in Virginia Beach when my friend asked me to come work for her business for a bit more money. I said yes and put in notice at my job. They didn’t want to let me go and suggested that I could make more doing the call center gig than I could at my friends company. I was set to go though.

    One of the directors at the company heard about me leaving and said (I heard this 2nd hand) “we have to find a way to keep the good ones”. They approached a manager in another department and asked him to offer me one of his open positions.

    That manager called me in and started talking about sales. Sales. A dreaded word in most industries full of liars and crooks – that’s what I was thinking anyway. He explained there was an opportunity here to make more money and that he had listened to some of my calls from the call center. He said “I think you’d do well”. I told him I’d think about it but really wasn’t sure this was something I wanted to start to do. Could I be an “honest” sales person, is what I wondered.

    I talked it over with people that I run things by and also expressed my concerns about the gig at my friends business. I decided I would give it a try and if it didn’t work out I could approach my friend about her position that she assured me would always be there if I needed it.

    In the beginning I would make my calls similar to a call from the call center – make it quick, get em an appointment and off the phone. A colleague, also from the call center now in sales, advised me to take my time, that here it wasn’t about how many calls you could make but what you could make of that call.

    They assigned me a zone to sell in, Indiana. The previous Inside Sales Rep (ISR) didn’t mesh well with the team and struggled to make goal. I was kind of forewarned that it might be tough to get into their trust and have them want to have me part of their sales.

    Fortunately I had a great Sales Manager (SM) and Assistant Sales Manager (ASM) that were patient with me and also integrated; me into their culture. I was invited to their weekly meeting, where I was asked to participate and they tracked my monthly goals right along side my teammates. They were great team and soon became accustomed to me calling them, asking questions about scopes of work and letting me know of customers I might wan to follow up on.

    Books on sales and selling, on winning people over soon filled my Kindle and Audible libraries. I crammed as much knowledge as I could about this new direction. My head was filled with a lot of ideas about what makes a good salesperson.

    My first months were less than illustrious, they were ordinary. I think it was a sold two months before I reeled in my first sale and it was a small one. I was so proud though, I had done it and it wasn’t that hard. I had made hundreds of calls and sent many emails but this one had just been a cake walk, they wanted what we had and were ready to pay for it.

    But I wasn’t an instant success, sure one sale, but what else could I do. I kept reading books, kept doing word for word what they told me and I was struggling.

    We hired a new director shortly after I started. He had plenty of experience in Inside Sales and sales in general. During a one on one meeting he told me “forget about all those books, just be yourself, people like you and want to buy from you. Just be yourself”. That was something I hadn’t tried so I thought I’d give it a go.

    Sure enough, just talking to people, asking them how I can help and answering their questions works quite well. My close percentage went up and I was having fun, which is something I highly recommend.

    That’s how I got started with my job in Inside Sales for Groundworks, a much bigger company than it was 4 years ago today. At the time I think they had acquired maybe 4 other companies on the east side of the country and now we are an international phenomenon.

    It hasn’t been the best year in my sales career, far from it. My zone went through a lot of change and there were firings, hirings (and even a rehiring) and promotions. My SM moved to California and things changed. We hired a new SM, got a few ASMs and a bunch of new guys that didn’t know me. The buy in from my Indiana team is not as prevalent as it was in years past.

    My dedication and effort were being forgotten – I wasn’t making the calls I used to. I wasn’t putting my true self into conversations. I wanted an easier softer way that I’d seen others use with great results. Well that’s not for me. I need to make the calls, connect with the customer and my team and then I can succeed. I spent the last month trying to build that motivation and dedication back up.

    The Inside Sales Team when I started was 6 people. Now there are 40 I think. 40 is a lot. We’ve grown as Groundworks has grown, we had to. We have great camaraderie and we’re breaking records together. Over half of the team works in other states and we only see them a couple times a year, but we have developed friendships amongst ourselves and that makes for a better team.

    This month I’m covering for a teammate out on maternity leave, that zone is Iowa – in addition to my Indiana branch. Spring is almost here and that’s when things can really pick up for us across the country. I’m up to the task and will continue my efforts to help my customers and teammates.

    Four years ago someone considered me one of “the good ones” and set me on a path in sales. That path has brought me to new friendships, skills and a future I never dreamed of. Thank you Groundworks, Inside Sales, and my teammates.

  • Max – a short story

    Max – a short story


    It was the night of the school’s annual letterman ceremony and banquet, where kids in sports and art throughout the year were awarded letters and accolades for participation and excellence in extracurricular activities. Many families were in attendance, in addition to all the team members from Basketball, Football, Track and Field as well as Chorus and Drama Club members. Coaches and teachers were sprinkled amongst the tables, proud of their student’s successes. The many tables at the banquet were filled with the different clicks and groups. No one really sat outside of their comfort zone, with the exception of 

    Max Thompson, the team captain and quarterback of the football team sat next to his parents. He was to be the main speaker tonight after all the awards were presented. He had led his team this year to the state championship and they won, he was voted MVP and was admired by many. He was dressed in a shirt and tie that was very uncomfortable around his thick neck. He, once again, stuck a finger into his collar and tried to stretch it out… his mother admonished him for this “Stop it” she said. He smiled at her and gave an extra tug on the collar to irk her. 

    Cheryl Thompson was proud of her son, following in the footsteps of his father and being his spitting image as well. Her only child, she doted on him but was careful to not do so too much, no need for him to be dependent on Momma, especially when there was such a good daddy to look up to. She was dressed to the nines, wearing a dress that accentuated her breasts and lined her hips sleekly.

    John Thompson, a stoic massive man with bulging biceps and a square jaw, loved his son. He had raised the boy to be a continuation of his own great legacy in the town. While he was proud of his own trophies and accolades from high school and beyond, his goal with his son was for him to surpass him on all fronts and show everyone the merit of a Thompson.

    Across from the Thompsons sat Max’s best friend James and his family the Moore’s. The Moore’s, in comparison, were rather plain. Fred Moore was a skinny man in a plain suit and Sarah Moore wore a blouse and slacks. James too would receive accolades tonight and letter for the second year in a row.   

    Max and James had been best friends since elementary school, neither far from the others side. If Max signed up for an extracurricular activity, it was certain James would as well. They lived just houses apart and spent many evenings passing the ball around or talking on one another’s porch. Sleep overs were just a regular part of the week, many a night they’d be studying into the wee hours and just fall asleep at the other’s house. Vacations, sports, classes… they did everything together. Known throughout school as the dynamic duo – Max’s favorite person to pass to on the field was James, and they seemed unbeatable.  

    The basketball, baseball and chorus teams had all received their letters and accolades, football was up next. A good portion of the team lettered this year including two freshmen who were exceptional on the field. Max and James would be last to be awarded letters as was the usual for the stars, they like to build up to the excitement of it. As their teammates received letters Max looked over at James and smiled his wide smile. James looked back and winked. 

    As the night went on and dinner was served, the time of Max’s speech was quickly approaching.

    “Know what you’re going to say right?” asked his dad. 

    “Don’t be silly John, he’s wrote out a speech and worked on it all week. He’s been very nervous about it” his mother stated.

    Max turned red just thinking about getting up there and speaking to the crowd of people. He was getting more and more nervous as the hour approached. He filled his mouth with a fork full of prime rib and chewed slowly. Most of the time his parents didn’t need his input to have conversations around him, this was probably one of those times. James smiled at him, having been around Max’s parents enough to see this type of thing before. 

    As dinner was finishing up and dessert about to be served Max made his way to the main stage where he would be speaking. His mother was right, he had worked very hard on his speech and was certain it was perfect. He was nervous though about how it would go and what would be said after. He felt right about it, knew it had to be as he couldn’t contain himself anymore. 

    The emcee clinked on his glass to get the rooms attention and then coughed before introducing Max. 

    “As you all know, Max Thompson is one hell of a football player” the emcee said to a roar of applause. “He’s also in the top five of his class this year academically and an upstanding member of the community, volunteering at several good will institutions. Voted MVP this year for his exemplary work on and off the field with his team, please help me in welcoming Max Thompson!”

    The people clapped and stood in ovation as Max approached the dais. Max felt sweat roll down his back and hoped he wouldn’t feel it collect on his forehead as well. He took a sip of water and surveyed the room – his eyes focused on James and felt himself relax. 

    His prepared speech already on the podium, he began talking. He’d memorized what he was going to say so the speech was just a crutch in case he needed it or got lost. Teams, togetherness, hard work, and dedication were key points of his talk. He touched on certain teammates that went the extra mile, coaches who inspired and motivated and his own continued strivings through the team. He really felt at ease, he knew this stuff and knew what the crowd expected of him. 

    As he was getting close to wrapping up he grew more and more nervous. His hands began to sweat and he chided himself – here you are captain of the football team scared to death of some words. Scared to death of the truth. Scared to death to finally be himself. 

    “In closing,” he began “I want to thank the most important person in my life. The one person who keeps me going each day and makes it all worth it.”

    His father straightened in his chair and beamed, his mother placed her hand on his shoulder, tears filling her eyes. A few of his coaches sat a little straighter too. 

    Max paused to take a drink of water, his hand trembling a bit. 

    “My partner not just on the field but in my life, my boyfriend James. James,” he said turning to face him directly “thank you for all you do for me and for always being there with me on this journey, I love you.”

    The room was silent. The star QB was gay and in love with his receiver. This was stunning.

    Then there was applause, from the most unlikely source ever. Max’s dad. And he stood. Giving his son a standing ovation, slowly others joined in and then most of the room was standing and applauding. Max was shocked, he was in awe of the acceptance of his town, his school, his teammates and especially his dad. He looked out again for James and found him.

    His father and mother had their coats on and were dragging James out of the room. James looked back at Max, eyes wide mouth agape. Not a look of condemnation but one of love and fear. 

    Max, who moments ago was feeling elated at the support he seemed to receive was now crushed as he watched James get taken away. He hadn’t thought about consequences for James as much as he did for himself, he was the one who had opened himself up, it wasn’t James’s fault at all. He beat himself up, how could he not have foreseen this. 

    After the banquet and tons of people coming to him to say how this didn’t change how they felt or how proud they were of him. He did get a few that advised it was probably a phase he was going through and he might want to wait until he’s older. Overall though he felt he was received well. All through that he was anxiously waiting calling James or hearing from him to see what happened and if he was alright. 

    As soon as he was able he texted James “R U ok? Where r u?”

    James was usually pretty good about texting back right away, but nothing came after five minutes.

    He was worried and he expressed his fears with his parents, they tried to reassure him that everything would be fine. That this was just a big shock to James’s parents and they may need time to adjust. Max’s dad said, “Let it sit until morning, you can survive that long without hearing from him”. Max headed to his room to try to sleep, sent another message or two to James, but again heard nothing.

    He tossed and turned all night, kept checking his phone every hour or so for updates or word, but nothing was there. He woke up at dawn and decided enough was enough and headed over to James’s house. 

    He creeped as quietly as he could over to James’s bedroom window along the side of the house. He tapped on the window. 

    Nothing.

    He tapped again, a little louder.

    Nothing.

    Not giving up, he tapped one more time, still a little louder.

    A figure moved to the window and raised the blinds. James was on the other side of the window, the darkness in his room kept Max from seeing him clearly.

    “James,” Max said desperately “I’m so sorry, I thought it would be alright. Are you ok? Are you mad at me?”

    James mumbled something Max couldn’t hear. “What was that?” Max begged, “please talk to me.”

    James reached over and turned on his bedroom lamp and raised the window. What Max saw was outrageous. James had been beaten black and blue and had a bloody lip and what appeared to be a broken nose. His eyes were red from tears and maybe beating there too. 

    “James, honey, what happened” Max pleaded.

    “My dad, he couldn’t handle it, he lost it last night when we got back. He’s sending me away to boarding school and I’m forbidden to see you, he took my phone.” 

    Max grabbed James’s hand “Babe, I’m sorry this happened to you, let’s get you out of here to a doctor”

    “No, I’m going to be fine, no need for a doctor.” James explained “Let’s just let him settle down for a few days and get used to this, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

    Max wasn’t sure this was the best idea but didn’t want to push it. He squeezed James’s hand and leaned in to give him a kiss. James kissed back gently, not wanting to push his injured face farther than he had to. 

    Max was about to go when he saw a police car pull up outside the house. Thinking James’s parents had called the cops on him he glanced at James, who had also seen the cop and they silently agreed it was time to go. Max headed for home.

    When he arrived home his mother was waiting for him and gave him a big hug after hearing what had happened to James. She made him breakfast and said “all we can do now is just wait”.

    The knock on the front door came about twenty minutes later, James and his mother were standing at the front door. It had been his mom who had called the cops on James’s dad. He had been arrested for child abuse and was currently in the town jail awaiting trial.

    James’s mom hugged Max and apologized for everything, and assured him they would get through this together. Max grabbed James’s hand and held it tightly, not daring to believe it was all going to work out. 

  • Stories I'm working on

    These are bothering me and so here’s a little bit of each one – three so far and for all I know they’re connected. They just get stuck in my head until I get them out. Sorry to bother you all.  (more…)

  • The Extractor

    In 2028 the US Government took a dramatic swing from Democrat and Republican to Technocrat. After over twelve years of decline into the superstition of religion and the fear it breeds, the population rose up and replaced those running on old ideas and replaced them with those who had scientific knowledge and acumen to change the course of the country.

    Technocrats and the Technocracy movement abolished old ideas keeping the country from progressing. Instead of interfering with scientific progress that might offend the religious we jumped into the deep end and made real change. One of the first major changes, after hard fought years was the removal of tax-exempt status for any religious organization involved in politics at any level. There was first outrage yet afterwards the populace found progress, real progress towards fixing the country and the world was happening. What faith and fear held back inquiry and investigation into the worlds of science blossomed new generations and ideas. (more…)

  • Eric John – An Interlude

    Somewhere over the Atlantic ocean a man named Eric john listened to the ice cubes hit his glass as he swirled his drink over the sound of the droning of the aircraft and the various conversations by the other passengers. The brandy waters down by the ice cubes but would have to do, it was a last minute flight he was lucky to get a first class seat at all.

    He hadn’t had time to shave before departure, as always his face by the end of the day looked like it had been a day or two, many men admired the speed he could grow a beard but he found it tiring to have to shave so often. The salt in his dark beard bothered him more than he could explain – age had caught up with him before he was ready. That’s what the old always claimed, time goes faster as you get older. He should have listened.

    He closed his eyes set his seat back and focused on his destination, he was finally going to put this all to rest. The boy had been found after all these years, in just a few hours this journey would reach it’s conclusion. That woman… that woman would pay for her interference and meddling.

    He was still lost in thought when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He opened his eyes, assuming the flight attendant must have something very important to say. Across the aisle was a pretty blonde woman, she was dressed as a professional would be and was smiling at him.

    “Do you know the time?” she asked

    Eric John couldn’t quite believe the question, the interruption to his own thoughts and her rudeness. He stared at her with a cold glare, reached into his pocket for his ear buds and lost himself in his music. He overheard her mumble something but just closed his eyes, focusing on the music.

    Women, he thought, were always a bother. This one was just another in a long line of nuisances he’d run across in the last few years. Not to be trusted, not to be held close… only to be used and then very carefully, so as not to get caught in their schemes or let them ruin his plans.

    In just a few hours the plane would land and he would finally retrieve the boy – that was all that mattered now, nothing else can interfere with that.

    Earlier chapters of this story begin here: Eric John

  • Eric John – Part VII

    You can read earlier parts of this story starting here: Eric John 

    Mrs. Wirsing was worried sick when Eric John didn’t show up for class after the second period. She just knew something bad had happened, the children’s services worker that she had met had assured her he would be in the same school district. Time just seemed to drag as she waited for lunch so she could call him.

    The call was answered right away and she expressed her concerns, which actually gave the children’s services worker some fear himself. Kathy was very reliable with the kids placed in her home and would have let the school and children’s services know if Eric John were sick or unable to come to school. After getting off the phone with Mrs. Wirsing he rang the Smithton’s but all he could get was a busy signal. After several tries with no difference he decided it would be best to head on over there to check on the boy’s safety. (more…)

  • Eric John – Part VI

    This story begins here: Eric John

    A light knock on the door as it opened followed by a soft “Good morning dear” and Eric John thought it had all been a nightmare. But he looked up to see Kathy, not his mother, in the doorway. She had changed into an orange ensemble for the day so she was a blob of orange in the door – she was still smiling and urged him to come down for breakfast as she left.

    The horrors of the previous night flooded his mind as he felt an ache in his bottom. He rushed to the little bathroom and found blood and feces in his pajama bottoms. He had a sudden urge to vomit and just made it to the toilet before it came up. He cried again and tried to hold back the sobbing but it just wouldn’t so he let it all out. He took a shower, got dressed and headed to the dining room. (more…)

  • Eric John – Part V

    You can read earlier chapters here – IV here: Part I, Part II, Part III, and Part IV

    This multi-part story a rather new thing for me to try to do – it started with a Parts I and II keeping me up at night running around in my brain being crazy. So I had to write it down. As I was writing it down other parts of the story came and they seemed to make sense so I put them in as well. There have been parts where I was intending to write something and then a thought struck me and I had to change or delay something – that was pretty cool but a little frightening.

    This chapter (V) I have been debating whether to write what is in my head or not… it seems to not be a very nice thing and so many bad things have already happened. It was part of the original thought process that was keeping me up though so I feel obligated kind of – as I get started here it may change like it has before. I’m up for the adventure and to see where it all goes.  (more…)

  • Untitled Story

    The water gushed into the streets of the town. Cobblestone streets and large block buildings with oval spires  began to fill with dirty liquid as the flow overwhelmed. Sloshing of waves hitting walls and belongings being swept away could be heard throughout. The force of the rapids took out doors and low windows, small vehicles were lifted into the wash to crash into buildings moments later spinning down the new river as it took it’s toll.

    Bodies floated like jetsam among the deluge – all ages. The coming didn’t discriminate. Occasional screams of those trying to hold on were heard above the roar of the waves. Tears on their faces indistinguishable from the water that surrounded them. Panic stricken they found no hope, shelter or solace.

    The sky was alit with a purple fire, with bright cascading comets entering the atmosphere in a dizzying array of fireworks. Sonic booms followed by more screams erupted amongst the other sounds.

    In the center of the town stood a beautiful white church upon a impeccable lawn – alit with flames consuming it entirely. The wood hissed and cracked as the flames licked slowly up the outside. A bright orange stain on the dying world alive with flames. The water that gushed into town seemed to part before – unwilling to quench the flames that ate away at it.

    They came then – sloshing through the streets knee deep with water. Pulling rafts behind them littered with bodies. Each creatures’ face had traces of bloodstains, their sharp teeth smiling an evil grin as they waded through. Guttural laughs from the oppressors as they’d pull another lifeless body into their collection. They’d be fed for days after this harvest – but they would miss the fear that generated after this assault – a fear that fed them as much as the humans flesh, feeding them a crazed energy they so deeply craved.

    As night approached and the seeming comets littering the horizon faded the screams of the humans came to a stop. Creatures feasted now, before purple bonfires – a ravenous feats where flesh and bone were stripped with razor sharp teeth and soon consumed.

    This was just a small town, other parties had feasted on larger takes and were off to the next already. One small planet would feed them for a brief while but soon they’d be off to find the next.