El Patron – Albuquerque, New Mexico
I was a strapping lad of fifteen when hired as a “box boy” at a country store in Peñasco. Now, being a box boy at a small village country store is to being a bagger at Smith’s or Albertson’s in Albuquerque what the red chile at Mary & Tito’s is to McCormick’s chili seasoning mix. The former is so much more than the latter. For one thing, my duties included bailing hay, rounding up cattle, stacking lumber, loading cement, operating a forklift and every once in a while actually bagging or boxing groceries. The job kept me in great physical condition for football season. “Eloy,” my fellow “box boy” was a crusty curmudgeon sixty-some years old who didn’t always take direction well and expended more energy getting out of work than actually doing it. Every morning when our boss, a lovely and gracious woman, gave us our marching orders, he would respond “si patrona” (“yes boss.”) after each order. On busy days those orders came with the rapid fire cadence of an auctioneer. Eloy’s responded just as quickly, “si patrona, si patrona, si patrona.” Occasionally he sneaked in in a “si cabrona” (the literal term means female goat, but is…
