I Am Old For A Reason
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Joining a crew for the day was one of the oldest working linemen in the company. He moved like he was worn from years of hard work, and the younger men who didn't know him were worried about his capabilities.
There were several overhead stations on the work order map which required the crew to climb due to access issues. The young, ambitious men had quietly made an agreement without the "Clumbsome's" knowledge that they were going to quickly get their tools on to beat the 70 year old to to the work.
They approached the 3rd pole of the job, the young men continued with their plan. As they were getting out of the truck the old man spoke up, "Gawd Dammit, I see what you boys are trying to do here," while his bent body leaned over to put on his hooks.
His rickety body made its way to the pole and belted in, something it had memorized by doing thousands of times. In that clicking sound, his transformation something of magic. It was if he had bottled the fountain of youth, stashed it in a brown bag and had somehow managed a secret nip of it from his tool bag while everyone was watching.
His weathered body showed no signs of age as he gracefully moved his way up to the top. His movements far more fluid and natural than while on the ground-- his buttery style and skill far superior than any of men who watched from below. It was as though he was a twenty year old lineman with 50 years of experience-- furnishing goosebumps to all who bared witness.
As he unhooked, he morphed back into the elderly-looking man he appeared to be before.
He said nothing as he put away his tools, and neither did the younger men. This time their silence out of respect, not because they assumed he was hard of hearing.