Do I have to spell it out

Do I Have to Spell It Out?

R.E.S.P.E.C.T.  Aretha always used to spell it out.

Arthur never did. He always said it, last worded you with the one word. Supermarket checkout – ‘thank you, sir’ ‘Respect,’ replied Arthur. At the bar, ‘pint for you, squire’, ‘Respect’ said Arthur, pre-first sip.

Few people commented on it. Why do you feel the need to keep saying Respect, Arthur? Like those old communist republics who prefixed country with Democratic .

Most people didn’t know what Arthur did. Those in the know knew the quiet code.  Arthur wants to say Respect, be thankful.

Arthur didn’t live in a talkative world. The loquacious types who knew Arthur were too dead to speak of him now.  In his circles work came to him silently. His reputation spoke for him.

Evidently a safe had not been invented which Arthur couldn’t open. Quietly. No explosives, lances, no equipment at all. Fingers, tease, focus. Respect.

He was worth his weight in gold, and Arthur was a big man.

Whatever your profession the last job comes along. The villa was nearly complete now. The Boss was surprisingly understanding. ‘Just do this last job for us, Arthur, you’ve earned your place in the sun. What do you say?’

‘Respect’ said Arthur.

Like most professional men Arthur prided himself on his work, kept up with the requisite continuous professional development. Technology advances so quickly these days.

The airless, hot working environment was never an issue. You wouldn’t work on a unit longer than  - what was the response time now – 3 minutes anyway.

Arthur agreed to mentor the new man on the team. They hadn’t met before but skills need to be kept alive. It only added 41 seconds to the job, well within guidelines.

The flying squad landed on the street when Arthur and crew emerged.

‘Anything you’d like to say, Arthur?’ said the Chief Inspector, ‘of course you don’t have to.’

‘Respect,’ said Arthur.