Anyone who grew up with a brother can understand the term, "Brotherhood," on a far deeper level than those who didn't. It's safe to say, if you grew up with a brother you've had awful things done to you and have done awful things back. You can take a punch-- and certainly land one. Despite these terrible exchanges with each other, Brothers face the outside world knowing they’ll always have someone to stand beside them or behind them to handle what’s breeched their control. There really isn't a more accurate word to describe the dynamics of a crew. For all the good and the bad-- Brothers.
If all things goes as planned, a day in the life can be sort of routine and boring. This day was one of them. Luckily, the guy up the pole who was changing out the transformer was owed one. Payback may not come right away, but collection will always come with brothers.
It was a beautiful day in one of the seedier areas in the service territory. In all it’s beauty, the base of the pole was surrounded by shit. Not “shit,” but actual shit— so fertile that a Groundman was ordered to rake it all into a pile so it wouldn't be stepped in. Aside from the turds, the job was routine until a brother remembered he needed to collect.
Assessing the site, the conditions couldn’t be better for payback: It was a one-for-one rigging, there was ample pet shit, & the intended victim had become complacent to what he owed. All needed to collect was a paper bag and a roll of 33. And if it fits, it ships...
As the old, heavy, transformer made its way down, the repurposed Carl’s Jr. bag was on it's way up with no way to stop it. As it came up, the special order hit the pulley and exploded-- raining down animal feces over the lineman who was up the pole and everyone below.
The Grunt had to rake turds again, but this time he didn't mind as much.
Brothers... (No wonder why Mom is a little crazy.)
*Special thanks to "Broseph" for either making up or vaguely remembering this story...