"Most people," he'll say impassively, "would tell you that right away."
Sadly, Maxwell has never been anywhere near Montreal. Other than attending a candlepin bowling tournament in the great state of Maine, he has yet to venture anywhere outside of our fair province. This makes it difficult to measure his interior painting prowess in the larger world.
Nevertheless, some Sack residents are hopeful that some day, Maxwell will take his extraordinary painting skills to a great metropolis like Toronto or Vancouver. He could, they say, take the interior painting world by storm.
Of course, such success would probably force him to leave the Sack permanently. As Oscar likes to say, this would be a "win-win" situation for everyone concerned.
***
So far, Cutlass Supreme Painting has survived the recent economic downturn. Its earnings haven't declined by a single cent. Credit for this achievement can only be extended to Maxwell, the company's owner, sole employee and Chief Executive Officer.
The company's revenues, after all, have been remarkably stable throughout its existence. In fact, Cutlass Supreme Painting has earned exactly the same amount each year.
The precise figure is: Zero dollars and zero cents.
***
Given his talents for interior painting, one can only wonder why Maxwell hasn't been able to lead Cutlass Supreme Painting to economic success.
Maxwell, however, will be quick to tell you that his fortunes have been severely hampered by bad luck. On numerous occasions, he says the company has been on the verge of acquiring a "primo" painting gig, only to see the deal fall apart at the last minute.
Last September, Maxwell proclaimed that Cutlass Supreme Painting was on the cusp of a painting gig with the old town's venerable cable company. Apparently, they had almost completed construction of a new corporate office and required the services of a professional painting company.
Maxwell said the gig would've resulted in "major coin" for Cutlass Supreme Painting.
***
The deal between the cable company and Cutlass Supreme Painting had been negotiated at the highest levels of corporate power. According to Maxwell, he established the gig during direct talks with the CEO of the cable company.
Sack residents, of course, were immediately doubtful about this. How does a character like Maxwell, with his Montreal Canadiens tracksuit, a perpetual five o'clock shadow and a host of missing teeth, gain access to the pinstriped corridors of the corporate elite? More important, why would the CEO be involved in the negotiation of a measly interior painting contract?
The answers to these questions, of course, were quite simple. Maxwell claimed that he met the CEO at the local self-serve car wash on a sunny Saturday afternoon.
According to Maxwell, the cable company CEO was washing his "Beemer" at the time.
***
The CEO's name was Jim. He had just completed a season-ending golf game when he decided to wash his car. Maxwell, who lacks a functioning vehicle, didn't say what caused him to be at the car wash at the time.
Either way, Maxwell struck a conversation with Jim that focused on his admiration for the Beemer. It didn't take long for them to discover some common ground. Both were at the helm of their respective companies.
The conversation ended with Jim eagerly accepting one of Maxwell's Cutlass Supreme Painting business cards. Regretfully, Jim didn't have any of his own cards to exchange. Apparently, his business cards were languishing in the pocket of his other pants.
Nevertheless, Jim vowed that his people would most certainly contact Cutlass Supreme Painting about their interior painting needs at their earliest opportunity.
***
The following week passed without a call from the cable company. When the next week began, Maxwell was certain that his cell phone would ring and Cutlass Supreme Painting would assume its rightful place in the forefront of the interior painting game.
Unfortunately, calamity once again struck the company's fortunes. Maxwell inadvertently dropped his cell phone into a toilet. This occurred at the Bitterman residence.
The phone was submerged for several minutes. Maxwell was unaware of this. Apparently, he was brushing his remaining teeth at the time. By the time he noticed it, the phone had been rendered inoperable.
***
There can be no doubt that the cable company called immediately following the unfortunate accident. And Maxwell didn't have voice mail, either. This is exactly the kind of bad luck one has grown to expect with Cutlass Supreme Painting.
It took Maxwell more than a month before he could amass sufficient funds to get a replacement phone. By that time, of course, the cable company's interior painting needs had likely been met.
Maxwell says the work was likely competed by "a bunch of hacks."
***
Even if the unfortunate toilet affair hadn't occurred, Sack residents remain doubtful that Cutlass Supreme Painting could have met the needs of the local cable outfit.
The company's namesake, a battered 1993 Cutlass Supreme has been inoperable for a considerable period. The vehicle is supposed to transport Maxwell's painting gear, including a borrowed sixteen-foot ladder.
Much to the chagrin of his father-in-law, Mr. Bitterman, the 1993 Cutlass Supreme remains inert on the driveway. Occasionally, Maxwell spends an afternoon tinkering under the vehicle's hood, but nothing seems to make a difference.
According to Weed, the 1993 Cutlass Supreme needs a new doohickey of some kind in order to hit the road again. The cost of the doohickey remains far beyond Maxwell's current resources. Apparently, he even approached Mr. Bitterman about funding the repair. He was rebuked immediately.
Oscar says Mr. Bitterman told him there would be "a hockey game in hell" before Maxwell would see a single loonie from his pocket.
***
Another potential barrier for Cutlass Supreme Painting is the state of Maxwell's painting shoulder.
While performing a "Look ma, no hands!" routine on the back of a garbage truck last year, Maxwell tumbled to the ground. A bum shoulder has been the lasting legacy of the matter.
At the time, Maxwell was gainfully employed as a waste management professional. Despite the passing year, his painting shoulder continues to give him problems. According to Maxwell, he's now waiting patiently for a long-term disability deal from the old town's waste management profession.
Sack residents, of course, remain suspicious about the matter. After all, Maxwell continues to appear regularly in the local candlepin bowling league. However, he claims this is part of his ongoing physical therapy.
It's also notable that Maxwell occasionally takes a few shifts on the waste management truck. His illustrious cousin, Dougie Duggan is a crew chief and seems to have some influence in having Maxwell aboard.
However, Big Doug has a contact in the old town's administration side. He reports that Maxwell's shoulder has nothing to do with his fall from grace within the ranks of the waste management profession. Despite his cousin's protective influence, it appears that Maxwell's work performance has left him languishing on the bottom of the call list when an extra body is required.
Big Doug says Maxwell is known among management types by a rather disparaging moniker: Mr. Tits-on-a-Bull.
***
Your agent is aware that today's offering sounds terribly derogatory in regard to Maxwell. Nothing, however, could be further from the truth.
As much as he seems to be without any discernible intellect, Maxwell is admired for his skill as an illusionist. As Oscar has said many times, "Here's a guy with a family of four who's living in a middle-class neighbourhood, in a decent house with food, drink and digital cable. Yet, he doesn't have a job or any chance of getting one in the foreseeable future."
Then he adds, "You gotta have something going on to pull that off."
A few months ago, a matter arose which suggested that Maxwell, depending on your point of view, was also far more industrious than many believed. Under the noses of Sack residents, he started a thriving commercial enterprise.
***
It was Oscar who noticed it first.
Over time, he noticed an increasing number of cars stopping briefly in front of the Bitterman house. Maxwell was almost always on the porch as if awaiting the arrivals. When a car stopped, he would speak briefly through the passenger window. Then the car would drive away.
Once, Oscar watched as Maxwell pocketed some cash as he walked back to the Bitterman's porch.
***
Weed is the Sack's official Maxwell correspondent. It didn't take him long to find out about the matter. Apparently, Maxwell is peddling pot from the porch of the Bitterman home.
So far, the matter hasn't come to the attention of the Sack Resident's Society. Only a small number of residents are aware of it. The volume of cars isn't great, so the business could fly under the radar for some time. As long as Gordon or Elizabeth remains unaware, Maxwell's efforts will likely continue unabated.
Oscar and Weed were pleasantly surprised by the discovery. First, they were impressed with Maxwell's entrepreneurial spirit. They also were thrilled by this newfound convenience.
***
In recent weeks, however, Weed's feelings about the matter have changed. He's no longer in favour of Maxwell's pot peddling from the porch.
Weed's position hasn't changed due to any alterations in his moral code. Instead, it's the result of one particular aspect of Maxwell's business. Weed has concerns about the quality control aspect of the enterprise.
Maxwell, it seems, is peddling very low quality pot from the porch of the Bitterman home.
***
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