That wasn't his real name, he just said the word "nasty" a lot.

Also, he was pretty nasty.(Not his personality, but sometimes when he told stories you would shudder a bit.)

So we called him Nasty.

This one time, we got a call to go to work and it was going to be a few months in camp. I was pretty stoked because camp meant that we would eat well, and on a regular basis. It also meant I wouldn't drink as much, or get gonorrhea.

Probably.

So we were told to be at the shop in a couple of days and to pack for a long stay. We were going to be building a road and a lease so that an energy company could drill a bunch of gas wells on top of a mountain. At the time I was very broke and happy for the work.

(Yayyyyy, work!)

It took me several years to build up a hatred for the industry. Sort of like the church.

Yes, that church.

We got to camp on the specified date and began to work. When we got done, we went for supper, but Nasty took the company truck and drove home because he forgot his pillow and toothbrush. It was about two hours each way, so I guess he was going to stay at home and come back in the morning.

(Yayyyy, camp.)

Then the boss called his house to see if his wife could get a hold of their neighbour who didn't have a phone, to see if he could come to work and Nasty answered it.

The boss was taken aback because Nasty was supposed to be a few hours away in a bush camp. He said as much. I guess it got a bit ugly as we all got told the next morning that company trucks were not to leave the job site again. This meant that we were stuck in there and the closest liquor store was around 45 minutes away.

Nobody was pleased

When Nasty got back to work, we let him know about our displeasure. Pretty fucking often. On the third day of work, Nasty called the office and asked them to send up a carton of cigarettes.

This was met with some disdain. It also prompted the "No cigarettes on the company account." rule. You see Nasty only brought a few packs of smokes because he didn't have enough cash to buy more, but the company had an account at a grocery store and we were allowed to order stuff and whoever was coming to the camp would bring the order and it would come off your paycheque. This was the only way Nasty could get his darts before payday which was two weeks away.

(Yayyyyy, smokes.)

Our boss didn't smoke and despised other people smoking. He figured there were lots of better ways to kill yourself. Like axe fights and hunting bears with knives. So he decided he wasn't going to help guys get cancer anymore. They would have to get their cigarettes some other way.

Too bad nobody was allowed to use the company trucks either.

The next day the boss was driving by Nasty as he was working his machine and he fired eight packs of cigarettes into the ditch while yelling, "There's your fucking cigarettes, asshole."

Most of us laughed at that, either because we didn't smoke or we were still pissed at Nasty for losing our privileges. It also sucked because it put the boss in a shitty mood and then nobody wanted to talk to him in case he was going to blow up. As far as bosses go, he was a pretty good one back then. Nasty just rubbed him the wrong way.

There are plenty more stories about Nasty, but we don't want to be here all night. I have more research to do on bid bots. Hey, don't judge me.