Over At Sullivan's

Walter Kowalczyk had never been shy about sharing his success stories. He was a man of meager beginnings, but a hard worker and had earned what little he had. During the 31 months he spent between jobs in the late ‘80s, he learned that other people’s good news isn’t always easy to enjoy. In fact, it can be a miserable reminder of one’s own misfortunes.

Walter had become affiliated with a fraternity of the potentially employed that spent their ample free time at a local bar. Mostly, they just threw darts and commiserated over cheap beer. He and his associates were always quick to congratulate the lucky bastards that managed to find work, only to curse their names and wish them ill the minute their backs were turned. In one case, after a few too many drinks, Jerry broke a bottle over his brother’s head, just because his brother had won ten dollars on a scratcher he found at the bowling alley.

When Walter finally got the news that he had been hired on as a MIG welder over at Sullivan’s, he didn’t want his friendships to suffer a similar fate, so he kept it to himself. In order to explain where he’d be during the day, he announced to the bar that his Aunt Sally had taken ill and he was going to be dealing with a bunch of B.S. for a while. That hadn’t been a lie, so much as it was an unfortunate coincidence. When he’d show up at the bar each night, he’d talk briefly about Sally’s decline and say he was just trying to stay positive and hold things together. Occasionally, he’d garner enough sympathy that someone would buy him a beer, an act of significant generosity under the circumstances.

Later that year, when Sally finally passed and left Walter her ‘78 Buick, Walter mentioned only her death and the added stress the bills had put on his budget. After all, the late-model sedan wasn’t exactly the most fuel efficient. Walter’s brotherhood responded admirably, filling his belly with beer and even taking up a small collection to help him in his time of need. The only problem was, he had lost his excuse to remain scarce every day during business hours. Worse still, he’d been given a promotion and would be busier than ever and earning the kind of money it is hard to hide from friends with a sixth sense for a spare dollar.

When asked the following Sunday if he’d like to go fishing one day that week, Walter panicked, made up a poor excuse for an excuse, and angrily shouted about having sold his fishing gear before storming off. He managed to avoid any further complications until he was finally cornered at the bar one night by a guy called Stu. Stu said he didn’t want to make a big deal of it, but he wanted to give Walter his fishing pole and tackle box. When Walter tried to refuse, Stu explained that—between the two of them—he wouldn’t have much time for fishing for a while anyway, as he had just been hired on as a spot welder over at Sullivan’s.

Touched by the thoughtful gesture, guilt-ridden over having taken advantage of these downtrodden men, and mostly just the right amount of drunk, Walter confessed that he had been working at Sullivan’s for several months already and offered to give Stu a ride on his first day. Initially, Stu looked angry and disgusted with Walter, before suddenly turning away, leaving him to worry if he’d expose Walter as a fraud and turn everyone against him.

Walter went home with a pit in his stomach the size of a ‘78 Buick. The following Monday, after a hard day’s work, Stu walked into the bar, nodded silently to Walter, ordered a beer, and announced that he had some bad news to share.

• Written for “Keeping Good News to Yourself”