Motor City I tried to cover my head from the rain, using a newspaper that I had brought to read, as I walked into the Livonia Train Station. Livonia is a town right outside of Detroit. Detroit is the scummiest big city in America. It's full of smoke stacks from the automobile factories that are there, giving meaning to the nickname, "The Motor City". The smoke stacks make the whole city a dark, smoky place. I commute to the Motor City every day on the train for a job that I don't like. Every day I would walk into the Livonia Train Station, read the sign that told me I was entering from the north, and I would sit down in the third bench that I passed as I walked down the platform. The station isn't very large. It consists of eight cold, ugly benches sitting on thick slabs of concrete that elevate people to a comfortable height to step on the trains that came in and a roof which covered all of this. The only thing that made the place a little less depressing was Leon's coffee stand. His stand was the only thing there that looked lively. It was a brown color mostly, with other shades complementing it. On the base of the stand, there was a big, yellow sun with a face that had big, shining, white eyes, and a wide open mouth that was saying, "Perk up your day with Leon's coffee!" It was a cheesy sales technique that probably didn't help the sales. All people wanted was a cup of coffee in the morning, not some flamboyant cartoon sun telling them to "perk up". Every day I would have the newspaper, so I could read the sports section, and see whether or not the Pistons or the Red Wings or the Lions or the Tigers had won the night before. I have pride in the city's sports, but not in the city itself. It's a piece of shit city, but sometimes the sports teams were decent. Today was a horrible day. It was raining outside, and I used my newspaper to cover my perfectly styled brown hair from getting wet. I didn't want the gel in it to be washed out and leave me with flat, wet hair. The rain ruined my paper, leaving me with nothing to do while I waited for my train. I sat down, twiddling my thumbs, trying to stay busy. I checked my watch, but it was only 8:16 am. My train didn't arrive until 8:30 am. I would go crazy if I sat around for that long. I can't sit in one spot for more than a few minutes without fiddling with something or talking to someone. I tried walking around looking for something to do and I saw Leon behind his coffee stand. Leon was always standing behind the counter with his big, hairy arms folded, until a customer came near him to buy coffee. He was an old guy with gray hair covering his whole body and he wore a dark green apron that was stained brown from many coffee spills. He never showed any emotion as far as I could tell. He only waited behind the counter for customers. I walked up to Leon so I could buy some coffee. I thought it would waste a little of my time before my train arrived to take me to the Motor City. I said to him, "One small decaf." This was code for one cup of decaffeinated coffee in the smallest sized cup that was available. He unfolded his arms and grabbed a small sized, Styrofoam cup from under the counter. He pushed a button on the coffee dispenser and filled the cup with the steaming brown liquid. His face never changed. It was still as blank as before. I placed my money down on the counter and he took the bills and gave me my change. I drank my coffee while I leaned on the counter, and he still stood in the same spot, arms crossed, showing no emotion in his completely blank face. I checked my watch again. 8:19 am. I still had a few minutes to wait. I decided to strike up a conversation with Leon. I tried to think of something good to say. He intimidated me so much that I couldn't think of one topic that he might be interested in. I thought, "How's business? No that's stupid. What kind of name is Leon? No, he probably wouldn't talk about that even if he knew. I got it!" What I thought of wasn't even a complete thought in my head yet. The basic concept of a conversation came into my mind and I blurted it out. "So...what do you think of all the layoffs at the car plants?" It seemed like a good question before I said it aloud. Leon looked up at me, arms still folded, but this time he looked angry. He frowned and scrunched his forehead up so that he looked even older. I started to feel very uncomfortable and I wished that I had never asked the question. "I'll tell you what I think. It sucks!" he said, becoming slightly louder. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you angry," I said, trying to keep him calm so that he wouldn't want to punch me square in the mouth. I stopped leaning on the counter and stood up straight. I didn't want him to think that I was being casual about his misfortune. Leon unfolded his arms and placed them on his counter. He leaned towards me, still frowning. He said, "You think I've always had this job? No way! I don't make shit doing this." He began to speak more quietly. He must have noticed that some of the people in the train station were looking towards us because he raised his voice before. "I was working in the Ford plant in the city. I was a manager there and I made a lot more than I do here." He reemphasized the fact that he didn't make a lot of money. He sounded ashamed, but he still told me about it. I tried to be understanding and friendly. I raised my eyebrows in a pleasant way and it made me look very sympathetic. Leon started to speak again. �The shitty thing about it is; I was a good worker. I was never late, I never made my bosses angry, and I never let my workers slack off. I even increased the production in my factory!� No matter how hard he tried, Leon kept raising his voice and pounding his fists on the counter. More and more people waiting for their trains were looking at us. I tried to think of something to say. I wanted to calm him down and get a conversation going instead of him telling me how horrible Ford is. I leaned in closer to him and asked more quietly than him, �Why would they fire you if you were such a good employee?� Leon must have thought I was patronizing him. He stood straight up and said even louder than before, �What the fuck are you trying to say? I was a damn good employee! I didn�t deserve to get canned!� He scared me so much. His right index finger was pointing directly into my face. I was almost sure I was about to get a punch in the mouth. I wanted to check my watch to see if I could get on my train soon, but I was too afraid to look away from his eyes. I said to him, �No! I didn�t mean it like that. I just wanted to know why you were fired. What did your boss say to you?� He calmed himself and relaxed his posture. �Well�he walked up to me as casual as he was every day. His name was Mr. Fillmore. He�s only a few years older than me, but he doesn�t look as good. He�s bald, but he�s pathetic enough to do a comb-over. He was just a lackey that the company used to get rid of people. He was used a lot when they were laying everyone off.� I knew the type of man that Leon was describing. My office had the same thing. Mr. Cordell was the guy that fired people in my office. He was also a lackey and he was very pathetic looking. �He walked up to me and he said in a horrible, nasally voice, �Hey Leon. Well as you know, the Ford Motor Company has been outsourcing some of its work and we have been minimizing our work sources here in America.�� Leon was dragging out the sentences and imitating the nasally voice of Mr. Fillmore by holding his nose shut. �I knew that I was going to get fired. I got a bad feeling in my stomach, you know? It�s like my body was getting ready for something bad. Then he said, �We are going to have to let you go. We don�t require you to work here anymore.�� I held my mouth open to make him think I was surprised. The truth is: I really wasn�t. People were losing jobs all over America because of outsourcing. I felt bad for Leon, but I wouldn�t doubt that it would happen to anyone. I tried to console him. I spoke softly, �I�m sorry man. That really sucks. They should keep the work for American companies in America man.� Leon looked like he had just lifted a weight off of his shoulders. I felt good about myself, because I very rarely do nice things for other people, even though this wasn�t very special. I checked my watch again. 8:29 am. My train was pulling in to the station just as I checked my watch. I looked up at Leon and said, �Thanks for talking to me�and the coffee!� I forgot that I even had the cup in my hand the whole time. Leon smiled and nodded at me, and then he folded his big, hairy arms and leaned back in his stand. I took the last sip of my coffee as I got on the train into the Motor City.
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