So he rolls up our long ragged redwood road and
is doing a 7 point turn at the top of our driveway in a shiny
PG&E survey truck. They’d trimmed a schwag load of branches
around the power lines and left them in our turnaround several
weeks ago, so I walk straight out to the guy in my slippers and 4
day stubble, all lazer eyed ready to burn and he just looks up at
me from his fat truck seat and says with a jovial expression “You
really like your privacy don’t you” and wins me at once with his
quizzical disposition –

we talked for 40 minutes about the human drama and power
dynamics in the corporate work place – from my perspective, outside
the box. I explained the concept of the “adapted child” and in a
leap of perception, he said under his breath “… they never grew up!”
He understood what he’d been dealing with for 20 years with his
supervisors and work mates, their ineptitudes and indeed that of
the dysfunctional corporate family dynamics he was subject to. I
asked if he was a parent and he told me proudly of his four grown
daughters. My eyes moistened without warning at the longing and
lost opportunity for me. He asked why I asked. I said because you
seem a responsible and mature adult looking to maintain integrity
in an archaic system. He showed me the seriously daft map the
supervisor had sent him out here with – into the wilderness of this
area new to the paunchy old guy – the map which had triggered his
consternation at the inefficiency and time wasting mission he was
sent out here on. I said this is not where you’re looking for – you
should be the supervisor. He said, oh they’d love me to be a
supervisor – I’m not interested – I have my team, but you’ve helped me answer my own
question. I know what to do now. He said he always tries to find
something positive in each day, shook my hand and thanked me,
saying he was glad he got lost and met me. The feeling was mutual. What’s your name he asked – Nik Spitz I said – and a quizzical, searching expression came over his face. Then he said “Nik Spitz – and so does his camel” and chuckled away with a gleam in his eye.
I never even asked about the brush pile – would have been a waste
of the precious moments and pearls that emanated out of our
impromptu conversation. You just never know when life is going to
kiss you with it’s random sense of humour and mystery.