STORY: Garbage In, Garbage Out

Arnold had become what he told himself he would never be: one of those scroogey old IT gatekeepers. He worked at FedEx in Data Analytics, and he was well known around the office for ending most of his conversations by throwing up his hands and barking "I'll say it again: garbage in, garbage out.'

He knew how to out-deliver Amazon if the workers would just give him quality data. Despite his increasingly angry requests, the delivery drivers kept taking crappy photos, letting their devices run out of batteries, forgetting to cache their uploads before memory was full, and all sorts of things that brought in inaccurate data. It prevented him from ever being able to make his logistic miracles happen.

He stumbled out of the storm, and into his dark house at 1:13 am. He tossed a matchbook from another bar at the bowl on the entry table, but fell against the table and knocked everything off. He was drunk again. He was exhausted but he got up and headed to his bedroom. He knew what he was going to do for the next 45 minutes or so before sleep. He had to be at work by 9 am but he cared less and less these days.

He threw his pants in the laundry, grabbed the lotion from the bathroom and sat down in front of the computer.

He knew he was safely insulated from the lightning and roaring thunder out there. He could indulge in whatever expanding fantasy occured to him.

After what ended up lasting an hour and a half, he turned off his computer screen and stood up. He stretched, and did a strange shudder as if trying to shake off a clingy, dirty feeling.

He scowled. He glanced at his watch and then at the shower.

"I should take a shower."

The storm still raged outside. This was a doozy.

As he let the water run over his face and shoulders he scowled again. He just couldn't shake that dirty feeling. "How did I get drawn into that disgusting stuff again?" He wondered if he could get arrested for that stuff.

A new idea suddenly gripped his mind. He stared at the mottled shower door for a whole thirty seconds as he pondered if he should let himself do it. This idea actually scared him. Finally he closed his eyes as if relenting, having given in to what a large part of him didn't want to do.

He turned off the water and slowly dried himself. His dread started to sink in. The consequences could get really bad if he did this.

He put on a clean t-shirt and boxers. He walked into his bedroom and stopped. He looked at the space beside his bed. He took a deep breath and looked over at his dark desk. He saw the lotion and took it back to the bathroom counter. He glanced for anything else that could delay it before he looked at his bed again.

He picked up his phone. It said 4:21am. He shook his head. He let out the last of his breath and let his eyes fall to the floor as if he had finally been defeated. He glided over to his bed and fell to his knees. His head landing on his covers and his hands falling limply to the floor. Soon sobs began to shake his whole body.

"God. God. God. I give up. I'm so sorry. I don't know what to do. I told myself I'd never do that again. Mom would turn over in her grave if she knew. I just don't know. I just don't know. How'd I get here."

New peels of thunder rolled over the sky outside.

When his sobs had subsided he sniffed and leaned onto his elbows on the bed. "God, I'm ready for whatever consequence you have for me. Whatever punishment or thing you'll ask me to give up. I'll sure try." Even he knew that he wasn't able to follow through with previous resolves. He sniffed again and felt the wet fabric on his cheek.

It was then he thought he heard the almost audible words, "Sleep in and treat yourself to breakfast."

Arnold stopped. Then squinted. That was really weird, he thought.

"I don't really think that was you, God." He turned his face over and his eyes drifted to the clock on his nightstand. "I just know if it were you, you'd ask me to go to Sexaholics Anonymous, or give $50,00 to anti-trafficking, or throw away my computer or something I REALLY don't want to do."

"Plus, I have work in like 4 hours." Just then his lamp and alarm clock blinked off, and a moment later thunder shook his house. He was ready for the wrath of God to come down on him.

But instead, he realized he had just been given an excuse to indeed sleep in and treat himself to breakfast.

"Okay, God. This is really weird but I think I'll do that. If I get fired I'll consider it my just punishment."

And so he tucked himself in, resisted the urge to turn on any alarms, and quickly fell to sleep.

***

When he opened his eyes his first impulse was to put on his normal huffy attitude and rush to work, running on coffee which usually splashed onto his wrinkled slacks, and which he held against others the rest of the day.

But instead he took a deep breath and watched the light trickling through the trees onto the foot of his bed. He remembered his instructions for the day and sat up. He glanced at the alarm clock which was still out. All he'd have to tell work was that the storm hit his neighborhood and it took out his alarm clock. He had heard his bosses be okay when others said that before. It was honest.

It felt really good to delay putting on the anger and burden of frustration he constantly carried. In fact, the lightness, and getting enough sleep felt so good, he decided to do something else healthy. This was a weird impulse. He scanned the IHOP menu but when the waitress came to him he asked, "Can you make a fruit smoothy maybe? Like one of those really healthy ones?"

A sparkle came into her eyes and she smiled. "It's not on the menu but I've been making one for myself every day for the past few weeks. It has chia seeds, and mango and fresh strawberries, and collagen, which is good for your body, and some protein--" she could see she was losing him so she said, "It's just a really healthy, and I think, delicious smoothie."

Arnold nodded. He smiled and said, "That sounds delicious." He meant it. She skipped off.

As he waited he fumbled with the menu. "God, okay I'm here. Now are you going to tell me the really hard thing?"

But what he heard was voices from a really loud table of old veterans bursting out in laughter. It settled down and one of them told the other, loud enough for the restaurant to hear, "Just take a long walk with him at lunch and talk to him, asshole!"

Arnold caught his laughter in his throat. He smiled and slowly nodded in agreement.

***

As he walked around his building, through the parking lot at lunch, he saw an old dilapidated park bench in a patio surrounded by trees. he had never seen anyone there. He looked around and made his way over to it.

He sat down on the edge of the bench, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. "Okay, God, now are you going to let the other shoe drop?"

But he found himself lifting his hand, placing it over his heart. Then he took a long deep breath. It felt very good.

Suddenly he began to sob again. "Oh, God. I think that's you. Why are you so tender with me?! I've done nothing but ignore and shame you. I've been so mean and bad for so long!" Now he didn't care if anyone saw his head droop like a bow as he cried.

***

Over the next three months, he had a few relapses, but they became further and further apart. And each time he heard God calling him back so tenderly.

And each time, Arnold came.

He was leaving work on time most days. He got outside and ate healthy stuff at lunch. He spent far more time at parks or get togethers with church friends, than hunched at a bar. Over this season he realized he was relying on his vices less and less often. He didn't quite understand why, except that God was somehow in it.

He was grateful.

***

At 2pm on a particularly stressful Thursday afternoon, three months after kneeling at his bedside, Arnold gripped his forehead with his hand, his elbow resting heavily on his desk. He whispered under his breath, "How man times have I told you, people. Garbage in, Garbage out."

He heard the familiar ding of his email inbox. He just knew it was his boss asking why he had not resolved the latest discrepancies.

He tangibly felt the anxiety rise in him. And from that his face heated with anger.

It was then he heard the now familiar voice say, "Give yourself a walk." He used to resist and work through that voice. But now he slowly lifted his head, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He looked at his second cup of coffee (he used to be on his fourth by now) but didn't pick it up. He pulled a beef stick out of his drawer as he walked to the office kitchen. He poured himself water. He walked toward the back door.

He peeked into his boss' office before he left and said, "I'll reply to your email in about 15 minutes."

She nodded, and he could see she wanted to ask him a quick question before he left. But he held up a finger with a patient smile, and she nodded that he could go.

***

On his way back in she caught him, "Arnold!" He stopped in his tracks and went into her office.

He said, "Could I possibly get back to my desk and wrap my head around this first?"

She replied, "Actually, this is about something else."

He stood up straighter, folded his hands around his water cup and waited.

"You seem so much more..." It seemed she didn't know if she should say something. She gave a half-hearted word, "relaxed."

He gave her a look as if asking her what she was really trying to say.

It was partly a smile, so she said, "Forgive me if this is inappropriate but you seem... nicer, I'd... say. You used to seem so unhappy, but it seems like something has changed. Did you..." she struggled to form her next thoughts, "Just on a personal level, if it's okay, did you get a girlfriend or something?"

His wry smile grew larger.

She tried to dig herself out of any hole she might have dug. "I hope that's not too intrusive. It's just--" She was definitely the less powerful in this particular conversation. "If you've found something, I'd love to try it to. I feel like I'm a wreck when I get home. I'm just so damn mean to my kids and..."

Arnold glanced back into the rest of the office and then sat down in a chair facing her desk. "Something has happened." He said. "Up until a few months ago I used to..." He looked down as if pondering how much he should tell her. "I was doing a lot of bad stuff to cope with work that just put me in worse place." She was still listening intently. "But I started talking to..." He searched how to say it. "Talking to a new friend, I guess?"

"So it IS a girlfriend?"

"No, no."

"Boyfriend?"

"No, it's not like that." He looked down with wide eyes as if his path could have led him into that.

"Um..." This is gonna sound... not so "safe for work," maybe?" He chuckled to himself. "But I've been talking to, um... God?"

"Really?" She said, rudely surprised.

"Yeah. I know it sounds crazy, But I don't even care who knows, I guess."

"What has he been... like... telling you? To like be nicer and stop being mean, or like what?" This is where his boss's impatience broke through a little. But she caught herself, bit her lips and folded her hands on her desk.

"Like, I guess--" He started, "I just realized this as I was outside just now-- he wants to care for me, by teaching me to care for myself."

"Really?" She looked down as if this was not what she expected of God. "Okay? So what, like, facials with cucumbers, or goats walking on you, or what?" Her impatience had broken through again.

He laughed out loud, which was definitely an unfamiliar sound in that office. "No, it's like, Get more sleep. Take time to breathe. Eat healthy." He looked at her. She was hanging on the edge of her seat. "And call my mom. Give myself at least a day off each week. Oh and find some good friends I can really talk to. And uh..." He paused and looked at her.

Her eyes were wide. He could tell she was debating whether to reach for her pencil and pad.

He continued, "And I guess this is the most important one. I think he wants me to talk to Him, and listen to Him. Cuz that's how I know what to do."

She said, unusally authentically, "I guess if He is our creator, he probably knows how we will operate best."

"Hmm!" Arnold nodded with raised eyebrows. "I suppose so."

She added, "So, basically, uh, maybe we could say, Good stuff in, good stuff out, right?"

A big smile crawled across Arnold's face. He got to his feet. He nodded as he calmly turned around. "I'll reply to that email."

***

Raw Spoon, June 29, 2025