The foil-ball

The foil-ball

After 20 years on the job at the Amsterdam Waterworks I have a new partner; Brian. He is the polar opposite of my former partner; Marty. This, as you can imagine, is a big adjustment for me. Marty was a type “A” alpha hothead that would do anything for anyone willing to ask. He has a big heart with a short fuse; he was yin and yang. Brian on the other hand is a calm, low-key drinking buddy type, who doesn’t mind being on the B-list. He’s the first guy you call to watch the game or help you move; loyal to a fault.

So, anyway… I work a job where you spend a lot of time with your partner chained to the control room monitors making sure the city you work for doesn’t come down with a big case of the shits. 8 hours a day you and your partner inhabit a room the size of a small cell; it doesn’t take long before you notice a few idiosyncrasies or quirks if you will.

Every night after break Brian taps his leftover foil into a small ball. Not just any ball, but a perfectly round, tightly compressed, shiny, engineering wonder. Tap-tap-tap… turn, tap-tap-tap…turn, and so on. His first week on the job I didn’t even notice, but then as the weeks went on I secretly started to enjoy this odd trick, waiting each night to see if this foil-ball would be better then the last. And when he was done, he’d gently place his work on the center of the large desk we share, as to show the world - or just me – the meaning of perfection. Then, without word or warning pitch it in the trash. What a shame.

One night while Brian was out of the control room, and his newly fashioned ball of foil sitting there, just begging to be picked up, touched, admired. I did it! I dare anyone to resist picking up this shiny marvel. Then, just when it was in my hands, I dropped it. Hearing it roll out of sight, I quickly spun around accidentally crushing the life out of his nights work. The horror! I’m sure I was being punished for coveting my neighbor’s foil-ball. Panicked and not knowing what to do, I quickly picked it up setting the dead flat ball back on its roost and fled the room. I wonder what Brian thought when he spotted his flattened treasure. “What kind of person would do such a thing!? Did Keith think this was funny!?” He never asked or said a word, but if he did I would have ‘fessed up.

Later that night I told my wife Sandy, and when she finally finished laughing she asked an odd question. “Why didn’t you just tell him what happened?”
“Are you nuts!” Why would I do that? I am quite sure I speak for most men when I say no self respecting man could ever say the words, “Sorry dude, I accidentally crushed your little ball of foil” Nor would any man ever want to hear those words. Some things are better left unsaid.
~Keith