by Deborah Nies

Created on: July 22, 2009

That's Just Todd

One could never accuse my friend, Todd, of not being in touch with his inner child; it was the "outer adult" thing that often caused him problems.

On a typical weekday morning, Todd would stroll into John Deere Credit Company ten minutes early. His still-damp, bailing-twine blonde mane would fly free from beneath his backwards-riding baseball cap. His standard attire was a t-shirt featuring the local band, "The Butthole Surfers," a pair of jeans or shorts, and his beloved Birkenstock sandals. He had often been referred to as "Garth" from the skit, "Wayne's World" on Saturday Night Live. Indeed, he had the same wire-rimmed glasses, sometimes held together in the middle by scotch, duct, or masking tape, and the same lanky, low-fat/no-fat body frame. Before disappearing into the bathroom, like Superman into a phone booth, I would receive a lop-sided, toothy Pepsodent smile, and a hearty, "Hey Riff!" (My nickname bestowed on me by Todd, when he called me "Deb-a-Riffic," and later shortened it to just "Riff.")

Moments later, he would reappear, looking a bit uncomfortable and a lot unhappy, dressed for Corporate America. His long hair was now restrained by whatever served as that day's ponytail holder...a rubber band, a chip clip, a bread wrapper twist tie, his girlfriend's banana clip. On his sharply chiseled, square jaw a stubbly, three-day growth remained. Not as a Don Johnson sort of testosterone statement, but rather as a symbol of non-conformity. From the neck down though, he was "Mr." John Deere: oxford shirt, necktie (most often undone, hanging loosely), Dockers pants and brown loafers, which were often accessorized with one blue sock and one black sock.

When the company hired me, I was warned to stay away from Todd, as he was "trouble." Management's definition of trouble was that he didn't follow departmental regulations, and he didn't answer a high number of customer service phone calls. Having been warned, this, of course, made me want to meet him immediately. I found him leaning backing in his office chair, rocking back and forth, while singing some sort of song under his breath. He was wearing his telephone headset, yet his phone wasn't ringing. Upon spying me, he jumped out of his chair in one fluid motion to greet me. After introductions, I asked how long he'd been with the company.

"I've been here for two years...but it's just a temporary job," he said with a wry grin.

I laughed. Something that I was to do over and over again

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