“I’ll be straight.”
“Just let me know what you find.”
“I will. Hooah!”
“Hooah!” he responds with our usual cadence then ends the call.
Since my food isn’t here yet, I slide out of the booth and find the restroom so I can wash my hands. When I walk down the hall, the lights flicker a little but come right back on. They flicker again once I enter and shut all the way off while I’m washing my hands. I swear the whole restaurant reacts with collective sighs, gasps, and even a scream.
Kicking the door with my foot, I rush out and see the power is indeed off. The sun has started to set but it’s not completely dark yet so I’m able to see clearly. When I walk back into thedining room, a man is talking to the crowd, trying to sound calm because a few patrons are walking out.
“Please give us a minute. Looks like something happened but our generators should be coming up soon and we will be able to get your orders out. Just have a seat, and when it is back on, everyone will get one of our homemade donuts for the inconvenience,” he says.
The problem is the generators should already be up and running. The power has been off for almost five minutes. Generators normally kick in within seconds—ten, maybe thirty, at most. Even portable generators activate in minutes of being manually started. A restaurant should have an automatic, industrial size generator and it should be on now. So, when he walks back toward the kitchen, I follow.
“Ay.” I call out to him and he stops. “I’m an electrician. If you have a generator, it should be on already. You mind if I take a look?” I ask and relief floods his tight face.
“Hell no. Please,” he huffs. “I need to get this food cooked and out before everyone walks out.”
“Where’s your circuit breaker?” I ask.
“Back here.” He leads me to the small electrical room in the back of the restaurant. “Please do whatever you need to do.”
I walk inside and look things over. Even though the power is out, I turn off the main switch first. Then I check the electrical panels for signs of damage or overheating. There is none, so I look at the breaker next. It’s a typical breaker so I look for the obvious. Because the panels are good, chances are it’s either a tripped fuse or blown circuit. Using the flashlight on my phone for a closer look, I discover just what I thought. Two of the fuses are blown.
Luckily, there’s a box of new fuses on top of the breaker box. Carefully, I unscrew the damaged fuses, avoiding contact with their metal threads. I look for the amperage rating on the fusesthen grab replacements with the same rating. Gently, I twist the new fuses into the empty sockets. Then I check to make sure that fixed the issue by turning the power back on at the main switch. It works and I hear clapping. I check the generator next. There’s a oil build up behind it, a wet stack. This is common because generators don’t run all the time so there’s build up. Manually, I start it so it can run a full load, heat up, and circulate the oil.
When I walk out of the room, the manager approaches with a big ass smile on his face. “Man, shit! You saved me. What’s your name?”
“Meleck,” I say.
“Well, Mr. Meleck, how much do I owe you?”
“Nothing. That only took a few minutes. It’s my Christmas gift to you,” I tell him.
“Man, ’preciate it but I’ve got to repay you somehow. Whatever you want, we got you. Hell, you can eat free all day,” he says with a chuckle. “All week, for real.”
“I’ll take the lunch,” I concede cause this brotha isn’t letting up.
“I got you. What do you want?”
“I ordered the turkey melt and potato soup already with my server.”
“Well, it’ll be out shortly. For real, you saved me. Thank you,” he says.
Before heading back to my table, I return to the restroom and wash my hands. I’m sitting for less than ten minutes when my food arrives. My turkey melt is piled high with smoked turkey and my small cup of soup is a big ass bowl. I also have three homemade donuts on another plate. I’m a pretty big guy, six-two and two hundred and thirty pounds, but even I can’t put all this away. So I just smile and say thank you.
After blessing my food, I dive in, smashing the sandwich, half the soup, and one of the donuts. I leave a tip, take the remainingtwo donuts to go, then head to my next ranch, Circle Bar G, and meet with the foreman, Buck. He’s a nice older brotha and I listen respectfully as he takes me through the entire property on a tractor trailer. When we circle back to the main house an hour later, he politely informs me that they are full for the season too but will have openings next week. I give him my number and we part ways. If I don’t find another ranch, at least I might have options in a few days for here or The Phoxes Den.
I leave Circle Bar G then head to the other ranches on my list. I tour a few of them, and for the others, I’m turned away before a tour. Bottom line, everyone seems booked for the season. I’m truly a day late.
Around seven, I call it a day. I’m hungry again and about ready to find my bed for the night. Jamal is right, my preference is to sleep under the stars in a tent or on a ranch, but after eleven hours on a bus and all day looking for a ranch job, this cowboy will relent and settle for a claustrophobic hotel room, at least for the night.
Before turning it in, I decide that I need a damn drink. I heard from a ranch hand at Freedom Ranch that there’s a bar in town that serves good food and even better drinks. So I make my way to Forty Acres, find a table in the cut, and chill.
Chapter 4
Wren
