Bittersweet Sands Read Online Free

to the instructor. “Acastus? May we have a word?”
    â€œYes.” The instructor almost saluted.
    â€œYou could have handled that with a little more... tact, you know, Brian.”
    â€œBarry.”
    â€œBarry.” The coordinator nodded, eyes bluer.
    â€œBut he didn’t—”
    â€œAh!”
    â€œâ€”wasn’t—”
    â€œAh!”
    â€œBut—”
    The older man’s eyes became an even deeper blue. He gestured toward the small man with his mug, and a large dollop of coffee splattered onto the white linoleum and Barry Acastus’ pants. The man’s voice rumbled down the hall and into the auditorium.
    â€œWe’re not running a gulag, Brian. Barry. Stop being a Nazi.”
    In their seats, men grinned.
    * * *
    The day dragged on. The auditorium was hot. The workers had overdressed, the voice of Barry Acastus, the instructor, droned, heads nodded.
    â€œIf you cross a red plastic tape barrier, denoting a ‘hot’ work area, and you don’t have permission to be there, you will be terminated. Instantly.”
    For the twentieth time in an hour, I shifted in my chair. I always attributed my hatred of high school to my hatred of sitting. The only thing that kept me awake through this torture was the pain from my tailbone.
    â€œIf you come to work impaired, you will be terminated.”
    I watched a man across from me yawn, and I yawned back. All over the room, men looked like they were nodding in quiet agreement to imaginary friends.
    â€œThere is zero tolerance of discrimination, whether it be sex, race, colour, creed, religion, or sexual preference. If you engage in such activities, you will be terminated.”
    Acastus stopped. Men on the edge of sleep snapped awake and became wary. Acastus stared at a worker whose head was back, mouth open. He was just beginning a long, slow, nasal snore. The worker next to the sleeping man nudged him.
    â€œTaxi!” the man’s neighbour whispered hoarsely.
    Taxi noisily wiped his face and stared around, bewildered.
    â€œIf you can’t stay awake,” Acastus snapped, “you’ll have to leave. And... you’ll have to wait until Thursday to come back.”
    The crowd awoke. Acastus stared down the now-attentive Taxi.
    â€œAre you going to stay awake?”
    The man nodded sullenly.
    Acastus looked around the room, like a gladiator about to dispatch a foe demanding the crowd view his power.
    â€œAre you?”
    â€œI’ll stay fucken awake,” Taxi said.
    â€œThat’s better.”
    From the back of the crowd came a stage whisper which both captured the feeling of the attendees, and forever branded Safety Officer Barry Acastus: “This Safety Nazi don’t ever learn, do he?”
    Only two men in the audience sat watching the instructor. They hung on his every word. Periodically their heads would nod together, as they engaged in a short but animated conversation. My attention shifted from the droning in front of me to the conversation behind.
    â€œThat doesn’t count.”
    â€œYes it does!”
    â€œIt don’t.”
    I turned and looked at the two. An older worker with deep lines in his face and a tuft of pure white hair was talking with a man dressed from head to toe in scruffy black coveralls.
    â€œWhat’s up?” I asked.
    â€œWait till coffee,” said the man in black with a grin.
    Twenty minutes later at the coffee machine, the two workers approached me.
    â€œSo, Pops,” I asked the older worker, “what’s the deal?”
    The Johnny Cash wannabe interjected. “We’ve had this asshole before. All this Safety Nazi does is just threaten. That’s his only M.O. While he’s telling us about the company’s harassment policy, he’s harassing us.”
    â€œI noticed,” I said.
    â€œWe each put ten dollars in a hat,” Pops said, “and the one that gets closest to how many times he