My Job, My Hell...

[colinz]

Good stories guys, especially TLR, I can't help but read them and feel a little sad inside.

[TheLastRifleMan]

A True Tale of Your Government $ Going to Waste

I no longer work in that office. It was closed to save money. All the people involved (except me) no longer work for Uncle Sugar. This is a good thing.

Like all of you I am a preparedness nut. Well, at least that is what the unprepared think of us, as more than a little paranoid. Fortunately my talents were noticed by my boss and I was promoted to the job of coordinator of the Disaster Preparedness Committee in the mid 1990's. I was happy preparing our facility for the biggest potential disaster forecast for the area, a Great Quake. That's magnitude 10+ folks, the really big one that can level cities.

Realize that nobody in my office had taken emergency preparedness seriously since the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1963. I'm not joking here. We had Civil Defense supplies from 1963. There was water, 675 gallons of it in steel tanks that had a fair amount of rust in the bottom. (Yeah, they never rotated it.) There were emergency rations consisting of hardtack and rock candy that tasted like some sort of nasty medicine. (All right, I'll try just about anything once. ) There were "portable toilets" that were large cardboard barrels (30 gallon?) that had a plastic bag liner and a toilet seat to put on top. I wasn't sure they were solid enough to hold the seat in place. Besides, they are so tall that most smaller people (especially kids but fortunately we didn't have kids at the office) could sit on it without touching the floor. We had geiger counters and radiological test badges to see if we were over exposed to radiation or not. (If they went off you were among the walking dead.)


We tossed all of that stuff except for the geiger counters which were sent back to the GSA for disposal. (I was surprised to see them later listed for up to $80 at various surplus stores.) Well, tossing the stuff sometimes meant taking it home since once it touched the inside of the dumpster we could then climb in and take it home. You'd be surprised at all the good stuff the government throws away. What, the government waste taxpayers money? You have to be kidding! Read on my friends and learn about it!

So as coordinator I purchased enough freeze dried meals to feed the entire staff for 72 hours. Then I had another 72 hours worth of MRE's purchased and stored in disaster cabinets on each floor. We had two floor wardens on every floor who had access to the cabinets in emergencies. Besides MRE's there were blankets, portable radios, flashlights, hard hats, a crowbar, notepad, pens, markers, first aid supplies (geared towards broken bones, glass cuts, etc.) and a two-way portable radio on a separate net from our police radios. Emergency water was stored in new fiberglass tanks built on special custom earthquake resistant mounts so we could rely on a gravity feed for the smaller bottles we would distribute it in. A schedule was set to rotate it every six months and adhered to. We bought portable toilets, camp style, and plenty of supplies for those. Every basic need was covered.

Down in the basement level (we were four stories above ground and two stories below ground) I stocked a special cabinet for our Emergency Response Team (ERT) for which I was a FEMA certified instructor. (Ha, got my boss to pay for my hobby. ) Inside the ERT cabinet we had enough gear to equip two teams of four including radios, safety equipment, tools, rescue gear (non-powered version of the jaws of life), documentation for damage assessments, more first aid supplies, whatever we thought we needed was there.

There was more, ahem, supplies such as extra guns and ammo to be cached in a safe outside in case we had help respond and they needed extra weapons. (Most of us would just bring our personal weapons from home but not everyone had back ups.) Well it was supposed to be in the small detached building but some blockhead lost the combination and neglected to admit to it for a few weeks. Then after we found out another oh-so-brilliant employee saw the empty safe open and one day just decided to lock it up for us, before the lock smith could get there to change the combo. Typical snafu.

Then Y2k loomed up before us and all the top bosses went into panic mode. What if the computers were unable to tell the new year? Would the government collapse? Are we prepared for rioting in the streets? For panic and civil unrest? The answer was, yes we were prepared. But trust a bureaucrat not to take your word for anything. We had to do more or he couldn't tell his boss that he had done something. So the first thing that took place was said bureaucrat put himself in charge and I became the committee secretary. Next he renamed the committee, we were not Disaster Preparedness but the Business Continuity Committee. Y2k became our sole problem, all other more likely disasters (such as a building fire, which we had already faced twice and survived) were shoved aside.

Since we were prepared for most everything already there had to be something we had overlooked. Why of course, it was reliable communications in case the phone systems in the country all failed at once. Never mind that we had two-way FM radios and even a couple of HAM operators on staff who we bought handheld radios for so they wouldn't have an excuse not to have one on hand in case of a disaster. What should we do? Let's invest in satellite phones! So we contacted various companies and found our options were limited to two, Magellan and Iridium. Magellan was a well established company that primarily provided services for yachtsmen and scientific expeditions in remote locations. They had two satellites we could tap into, both very low on the horizon. Only if we climbed on the roof of the building could we get high enough to tap into the network. So that was enough to dump Magellan.

The Iridium network was much more promising. Motorola, in partnership with some very rich Saudi royalty (are there any other kind?) were launching over 90 satellites to blanket the earth in coverage for their simple hand-held phones. The Department of Defense had already bought into the system ($3 mil worth) and so we thought that was the way to go. Just as I was getting the funds set aside for us to buy one word came that someone else would be paying for them. You see my bureaucrat wasn't the only guy who thought that all senior people of the agency should be able to talk each other on Y2k. Some guy in Washington, D.C. talked his boss into getting the whole agency Iridium phones. So we got a satellite phone free, along with several thousand dollars in accessories such as a small satellite antenna for the roof, a base station to plug the handset in (that alone was worth $2k), extra lithium batteries (worth $150 each) and so forth. It cost my agency over $1 million bucks to get the equipment. I heard that the guy who suggested the system be purchased was given a hefty bonus that year. That kinda bummed me out since all I got for working on the emergency preps was a very, very small bonus.

Then Y2k came and went without a ghost of a problem. I was sitting in our control room monitoring CNN, CCTV, radio nets, etc. while we had our officers protecting the place in 12 hour shifts carrying automatic weapons in case of rioting. Management was on the top floor having a catered New Years event and hoping that nothing was going wrong. When midnight came and went the champagne corks were popped and they got bubbly while we stayed heavily armed and sober with sparkling cider. Needless to say the satellite phone system worked but it was completely unneeded. Soon it would be completely unwanted.

You see that year Iridium went bust. The Saudis saw all their money going to China to send these satellites into space but except for a few government agencies nobody was buying their phones. Y2k kinda proved that they weren't needed. Cellular phones were much smaller, cheaper and now that the panic was over, reliable. So the Saudis decided to cut their losses and pull out. Motorola couldn't fund the program alone so Iridium went bankrupt and all those satellite phones suddenly quit working.

It was the last straw for the already discredited Business Continuity program. When they spent all that money for Y2k and nothing went wrong they had to blame someone for causing the panic and spending the money. So the committee was "reorganized." My boss was demoted. I was transferred to the Safety Committee and another lieutenant took my place as the coordinator. All the supplies languished, that is batteries were not rotated, MRE's began to spoil, etc. Then the downsizing began after 9/11/01 took money away from FEMA type preps and put it towards Homeland Security type preps.

So a couple of years go by and at a surplus property auction guess what was a listed item? Yep, the Iridium satellite phone with all of its accessories conveniently put back into their original boxes. What was the base price? Well, all of $5 bucks. I went for it and nobody else did. Over $3k of satellite phone equipment for $5 cash. From what I heard this was going on across the country. A million dollars worth of satellite equipment being sold for pennies on the dollar.

Not believing my good fortune I took things home and showed my wife. She asked me what I was going to do with the system since Iridium went broke? I dunno, but it was a very funny trick since I heard that the guy who suggested the agency buy these things got demoted. Not my boss, he got demoted but the guy in Washington, D.C. My wife reminded me that could've been me since I had recommended the Iridium over the Magellan system.

Anyway, I went online and discovered that Iridium had been reorganized and was now operating again. The phone and its accessories were worth money after all, big money. Being the dutiful employee who didn't want to be accused later of somehow getting the phone into the auction and then cost my agency big bucks by depriving them of this system I took it back to work. I showed my boss (still my boss though demoted) the information about the phone company, value of the phones, etc. For my due diligence I got my $5 bucks back.

Months go by and I don't hear anything back about the phones. My boss is shuffled aside to work on "special projects" meaning something short term so they can cut his job and let him go. I run into him one day and ask what happened to the phones. Dejectedly he told me that the agency had dumped the whole idea of satellite phones so I could just take it back home. I offered to pay back the $5 and he said to just keep it. Taking the phone would be better than trashing it. Okay, I take it back home to my wife's displeasure. Not for long as I listed it on eBay and sold it to a yachtsman planning on sailing around the world. I made $2,150 off of the deal which paid off a few debts and made Christmas real special for the kids. Sorta wish I had that kind of money this year but we'll still have a good year. Oh, of course I paid taxes on that money I made. You have to give Uncle Sugar his cut, after all.

Holy Pork Barrel, Istvan! Unbelievable! At least you were able to get some of your hard earned then stolen tax dolars back, albeit in a round about way!

Nice write up there.

[TheLastRifleMan]

I worked at 4 pet shops over a 7 year period, so I have some interesting stories. My stories are rather short, and don't begin to do yours justice, but have some anyway.

Those were classics! And yes, we want to hear the others tales of horror you mentioned! And Soon!

I happen to think you did a great job in writing those up, BTW. Keep it up!

In writing my previous tales, I had forgotten how much work goes into making them clear, concise yet entertaining. Takes a lot of work, let me tell you. They say "write what you know" and I really think that is true.

[Jeriah]

The carpet had rotted out (I know this because it was laying in stinking rolls in front of the garage), so the floors were bare wood which was slippery due to the fine film of cooking grease. Yes, cooking grease. These people fried everything they ate, even salads. It just got everywhere in that house, turning putrid and collecting black, soot like dirt like magnets.

If you had looked in their kitchen, I'll bet you'd have seen a stove with no vent hood over it. The vent hood sucks up all the hot vaporized grease, which is why it's important a) to have one and b) to change the filter often! Steph and I don't have one in our current apartment, and so everything in the kitchen does get a nasty grease film on it. Any horizontal surface in the kitchen accumulates grease. We don't even fry much, but even stir-frying and sauteeing and stuff contribute. (Of course, we occasionally take a nasty rag and wipe the grease off of shit; sounds like these people didn't bother.)

[Vicarious_Lee]

TLR, have you ever called CPS on some of these people? for instance, a house with a loose toddler and open, hot electrical wires that have already burned holes into the wall?

[K9Crew]

These stories are well-written and captivating. While both humorous and scary at the same time, its like looking at a bad auto accident. I just can't wait to see what is next.

Having grown up with a mother who worked in the nursing field in some of the poorer parts of WV I heard a few stories from her.
In one instance they literally rescued 2 children from the deplorable conditions they were being raised in. The parents did not see any problem with living in a house that actually did not have a floor. The ground was the floor and they lived in a one room house that consisted of four walls that were more leaning against each other rather than actually being supported by anything. The family had been living there for more than a generation and so could not understand what the problem was. My mother said they discovered new types of worms when they examined the children's stool samples.

And one night over dinner we had the pleasure of hearing some tales from the doctor who actually made house calls in the area. He was not actually supposed to make house calls but working on the poor community in a place that did not have public transportation required it sometimes. He was a true doctor who actually was interested in helping people and not just making money. So he is helping a young girl with her pregnancy and she had come in for two different check-ups but since the family couldn't afford hospital bills wanted to have the baby at home. The doctor agreed to go to the house for the delivery. So the day comes and the family shows up at the health center to ask the doctor to come quickly to the house and help with the delivery. They tell him he will need to ride in the truck because his small car will not make it up the road they live on. They tell him to ride in the cab seated between two of these good-ole-boys while there are four more guys sitting in the bed of the truck. They drove several miles down the paved road before turning off onto one of these dirt paths that in WV passes for a road. They are bouncing along for a while when they come to a gate that has to be opened so they can pass through. After going through the gate the doctor sees the four guys in the back of the truck each lift up a shotgun and turn to face outward as if watching for an attack. The guys in the cab say that the neighbors do not take kindly to strangers in that area but they should recognize their truck. Fortunately nothing happened and he was able to make it to the family farm and deliver the baby. Then after having dinner with the twelve people who all lived in the house and making sure that the baby was fine they drove him back into town.

[masterblaster666]

I got a few I guess.
I worked in the medical field as a Medical Assistant. Basically the first person you see when you go to the doctors. I take you blood pressure, weight, temp, find out why you’re here all that good stuff. I worked for a family practice so we saw a lot of different from cuts, to everyday sickness.

Well the Doctors are usually gone on Friday by 1 or 2:30 in the afternoon. I had gotten a call from a guy who must have had a hot date. He tells me he needs his medication refilled STAT. I go hold on well let me see what I can do. What did you need sir?

"I need my Viagra(Boner pills) and me Zovarax(Herpes medication) filled and I need it by tonight!"
I have to tell the guy I cant help him the urgent care wont do this and that the Doctors are gone and they will not be taking your call for these recreational medication.
He gets all kinds of angry and hangs up on me. I still think it was to funny asking for the 2 at the same time.

We would also do minor surgeries in the office it was a lot of fun but we would do different stuff like draining fissures or removing ingrown nails.
We had cut open this fissure that was coming outta this guys butthole. The entire time about 45 minutes while the doctors cutting draining and cleaning this up my job was to hold open this guys butt cheeks. HE came back the next week to get it checked out and he goes "No need for any introductions you know me well enough." While he bends over and spreads his cheeks.

Messing around with finger nails and toenails makes my skin crawl. I’m pretty much desensitized to everything else. I mean I can watch it and help with it but it sill wierds me out.
We had this mountain of a man come in one day. You have seen the pictures of an Ogre this was him. Huge guy had hands like Shaq and his feet were like canoes. Well he had some in with 2 ingrown toenails. I had helped the dr. with it and it was like the mouse pulling the thorn outta the lions paw. But with an Ogre huffing and growling. The next time he came in I saved the nail and it sits on my mantle Ill try to post pic of it.

[TheLastRifleMan]

TLR, have you ever called CPS on some of these people? for instance, a house with a loose toddler and open, hot electrical wires that have already burned holes into the wall?

I have not called CPS, but have called the Health Department and the angencies that are supposed to be helping these people. I think I have done this about three times all tolled.

I really thought about calling someone about the wrench stealing toddler and the screaming kid at that place I mentioned in my tale but for some reason I didn't.

Mastblaster and K9, those a great stories. MORE! Please!

[TheLastRifleMan]

I like to call my next tale:

"A lesson in Electricity and Oxygen".

This is also back about 6 or 7 years ago while working for my first tour of duty at my latest profession.

For a short time, some of the state run health insurance agencies were paying for three wheel scooters for people rather then power wheel chairs, figuring they were cheaper and the people who were going to be using them would benefit physically. So the company I was working for at the time was a provider for these "mobility vehicles" (an oxymoron if there ever was one).

The company bought machine from two different manufacturers, both made where people speak Mandarin or Shezuan by workers who were probably paid less in a year then what I make in a day. In other words, machines of a less exacting standard.

We "sold" one, that is to say insurance paid us for the customer's unit. This customer had already run one machine into the ground so hard that when I went to look to see if I could fix it, the first thing I thought was "Who put a mud covered Indy Car wreck in this guy's living room?". I had to write it off because it was going to cost more to fix the machine then a new one's price tag. So a brand new three wheel machine gets delivered to him within a month.

After he has the machine for about two weeks, he calls and tells The Slacker (the call taker/scheduler/mis handler of all things related to my job) that the new machine "doesn't run". I have to go NOW, you see, since his helper doesn't come to his house on odd numbered days and can't get to the bathroom, the Slacker tells me by cell phone. So much for the rest of my day and the other five stops I have to make. I look on my maps and see I am not that far so I get my bearings, turn the wheel left then right and off I go.

I find the place after passing by it three times. No numbers are visible on the outside of the house so I take a SWAG (scientific wild ass guess) that the house with the plywood covering the steps at an attempt as creating a ramp is the one. I park in the street after observing a van, parked in the driveway, is sunk to the floor boards in mud and the house covered in coffee-and-cream colored splatters from the van's hopelessly spinning wheels. The phrase "refuse to be a victim" comes to my mind after this collage of disaster-in-waiting clicks in my mind's eye.

I go into the house after knocking loudly and a high pitched voice gives me permission to enter. I swing open the door, which has a large "NO SMOKING: OXYGEN IN USE" sign taped to it over and knock over about five empty or half empty steel O2 tanks. A quick glance shows me that many of the same size tanks are stashed all over this house, which has a sheen of dust the same color as the mud splash on the front windows. Some tanks are empty while other slowly hiss away their contents. The scooter is in the middle of the floor and a small man, who looks like a Salvador Dali version of Frodo Baggins, is sitting on a dusty hospital bed. I have dealt with this customer before and he really is helpless in many regards as far as being able to do much physically. The scooter is his legs and the only way he can travel any distance. And man, does he travel! All over town, through snow, mud, rain, gunfire, day or night. This is what happened to his first scooter and now he is well on his way of forcing another to commit suicide.

It does run, he tells me, it just will not charge. He has only been driving it around the house the last couple of days because the battery gauge's needle is pointing beyond the red "recharge" zone and today it would only go a few feet then stop. This scooter has what is called and "offboard" battery charge, meaning it is not built into the machine. It is a separate small box with a cord that plugs into the wall and another that plugs into the machine. He hands me the charger and I try to plug the male end into his machine. No go. I can't even push it hard enough to go in at all!
He then tells me that is what he means by not charging. He can't insert the plug into the machine!

I have seen this before and it is not pretty in so many ways. I take out my penlight and with a flick of my thumb I have blessed light and I am now able to see was I dread: The three prongs, positive, negative and a ground, look as though a tiny ball bearing has been soldered to the end of each one, making the prongs too big to fit into the female port on the scooter. This is from one thing and one thing only:

He is yanking the cord out of the scooter without shutting off the charger, causing the damn thing to arc! A high voltage electrical spark in a house full of hissing, spewing oxygen tanks every time he pulls the plug out after the machine has charged! It is a miracle he hasn't blown himself or this whole house into a million muddy multi colored tooth picks!

What has also happened is the fact the electrical sparks have acted like a mini arc welder and have form the small beads on the prongs as I have mentioned earlier. I tell him that he has to shut the bloody charger off before he unplugs it. He then tells me that sometimes he forgets or his helper unplugs it. I grab my small rat tail file and go to work on the prongs, knocking the beads off and then using an emory board to give the final fit. I plug it in and do a couple of small checks and find the charger is working but the batteries aren't getting any juice. Now what?

I have to tear into the thing, which has a design that no man was ever supposed to be able to disassemble. By an act of sheer providence, I find out why the thing is not getting any life giving current. So far, I have only been at this place for an hour. My uniform is the same color as the outside of the house at this point and I am coughing every five minutes, hunks of mud being forcefully flung from my lungs with every heave. Oh yes, the problem?

A fuse. A 2 amp freaking fuse that has blown because Frodo here is too lazy to flip a switch! The Gods have cursed me, I tell myself. Why must I deal with ignorance and sloth plus the other five deadly sins on daily basis? I do make proper offerings on the Soltices, do I not? I even go to church on the holidays just to make sure. So why, why, WHY?

Well at least I have another fuse. Not a two amp, no, not even a five amp.

I slip a ruby red 10 amp fuse into the holder. On goes the charger and my meter shows an ever increasing battery voltage. If he wants to be lazy and blow himself up so he can visit his ancestors, I will not try to stop him and let him try to blow THAT fuse. HAH!

One hour and forty five minutes later, I emerge from The House of Dust and Mud. I had told the customer he must TURN OFF THE CHARGER before he removes the plug or he will be vaporized when all of the O2 tanks go off from the electrical spark. He says he will try and I tell him he better for his own sake. Paperwork signed, machine running, I scram.

He never did blow himself up, but it was close. He was later moved into an assisted living facility and the house was bulldozed six months later. I had to eventually replace that two amp fuse in every one of that model of scooter the company sold, replacing all of them with a 10 amp. After that, no problems. The manufacturer then updated that unit a year later with a resettable push button 15 amp circuit breaker that replaced that fuse.

Guess they got the message. And I did not get blown up.

[DrthTater]

Fact: kittens lower people's IQ by about 50 points.

[Cnidaria]

More pet shop of horror stories:

~ ~ Akira Hamster ~ ~

Hamsters are pure evil. I’ve cared for just about every type of small animal, and hamsters are my least favorite. They lure you in with their round, fluffy bodies, useless stubby tails and tiny hands. Look how cute they are running in place on their little wheels. As a toddler, I named my first hamster Scratchy-Climby-Bitey, can you guess why? Hamsters aren’t social creatures, and do not like being held. They sleep all day and just want to be left alone. If you bug them too much they will even eat their babies. Sometimes they just eat their babies for no reason, usually when a customer with small children is watching. “Mommy, what is all that red stuff and why are they squeaking so loud?”

There are of course the rare awesome hamsters that actually seem to enjoying being held and almost never bite anyone. This story is not about one of those.

We called him Evil Hamster, though he had many names. Customers called him “Oh my God what is that hideous thing? I’m going to throw up!” “Is that alive?” “Why won’t he just die?” “Honey, come see this, it looks like a zombie.” “Kids, don’t look.” “Can you just kill it?”. It actually made your eyes water to look at. The best way to describe it is the way Tetsuo looked toward the end of Akira. Evil hamster was twice the size of your average teddybear hamster, covered with tumors and skin lesions, and nearly hairless. Did I mention he was also albino? One of his eyes was so swollen with pus that we never figured out if it was missing or just horribly infected. The other eye was red around the edges of a thick cataract. His skin, between the open sores, was white and lumpy, with the occasional greasy patches of hair sticking out. His ears were ragged and misshapen, his feet were swollen and gnawed on. He couldn’t walk, couldn’t see, could barely eat and drink, but he could bite and hiss.

I found him one morning. Someone had left him in a box outside the store. He was covered in mites and ticks and absolutely filthy. The boss didn’t want to pay to have him euthanized, so told me to put him in the freezer. The problem with freezing to death is it can take hours, and meanwhile every time someone opens the freezer it tries to escape. He suggested drowning. That is the method we usually used in the store, and it is pretty horrible. The quickest, and most messy and traumatizing is the hammer method. I told the boss that I did it the last dozen times, so it was his turn. He decided I should nurse it back to health and try to sell it (because he is a wuss). Did you know that hamsters don’t like baths, and can bite through thick rubber gloves? The boss would have been better off spending the money on lethal injection instead of paying me to wash it and treat the wounds, which took a few hours. Some of the wounds had to be drained, some had maggots in them. It turns out that caked on feces were the only thing keeping most of his fur on. I can’t even describe the smell. Who lets their pet get this bad?

However gross he may have looked, his personality was far worse. Any noise would be met with a hiss and baring of teeth. He had an almost uncanny ability to bite anyone trying to feed him or clean his cage. The way we took him out of the cage was to dangle a leather glove in front of him, and once he had bitten down on it, lift the glove with him attached. For something that can’t see or walk, he could bite fast and accurately.

We tried to give him away to people with hungry pythons, but everyone was afraid he would kill the snake or make it sick. After 6 months, someone actually bought him as a pet. Seriously. They passed up a cute, friendly, baby hamster for him. Don’t worry, I made sure they didn’t have kids. I quit about a year after that, but during the time I still worked there the person who bought him would come in and tell us he was still alive and doing fine. I like to think he is still alive to this day, or perhaps he was a zombie all along.

[shrapnel]

Awww. Poor little guy. I mean, it wasn't his fault that he was totally not taken care of, and developed into a vicious little beast as a result.



ZOMBIE HAMSTER!!

[razi]

I had a hamster once named Ivan (the Terrible- he ate the ther hamsters in the cage at the pet store). He was a good hamster and loved fruit loops. We had to move him to a wire cage from a plastic one for some unknown reason. Well, he kept getting out. We finally watched him do it- he'd just squeeze through two of the bars and make his break.

All was good until one time he escaped and the cat retrieved him for us.

I'd much rather have a hamster than a parrot.

[masterblaster666]

While in high school I worked at a Del Taco doing the drive thru. This one was on the corner of a crazy busy street that emptied from one of the freeways and is an onramp to the same freeway. It is about 8 lanes accross 4 north 4 south with a small median in the middle.Well all of a sudden Im hearing yelling and screamingon the other side of this busy ass road. I see this homeless man ducking and dodging from this huge guy doing the best Incredible Hulk impression Ive ever seen. The shirt ripping like Hulk Hogan and I thought I could see the Steam coming outta the bolts in this guys neck. Well him and his friends start beating up this home bum. The Bum is dodging and weaving then makes a break for it across this busy ass street. It is likle watching Frogger in Real-D the bum is back and forth with the Hulk of Frankenstien close behind him. The bum makes it across righ t behind him is the Beast.His friends who are not a loaded I guess decide to let the bum be and decide running across the begining of a high way is not how they planned to spend friday night. Well the bum in now in the median catching his breath the Crazy guys is after him and dodges thru 3 lans and is about to plant his foot on the median when this guy hit HARD. By one of those F-250 trucks. Just a big ass truck and the guy Flies straight up spinning like a rag doll up Im guessing about 10-15 ft. then bam hits the pavement. his shoes one on the median the other under the car. Guy got hit so hard he flew outta his shoes. Im looking at this train wreck with orders pileing up and see the Bum making a run for it. I keep getting asked by the costumers what happened. And for the rest of the night Im using up all of the Lemon Wedges for dramatic effect squeezing them as the hulk who lost his shoes and gets hit by a big ass truck.

[Oneswunk]

Wow I just read all 5 pages of this thread. Great stories guys.

[TheLastRifleMan]

I want more pet shop stories. Seriously. Those are just too good.

At least you did not have Whitey the Talking Cat in your shop:

http://seminars.torontoghosts.org/blog/ ... laursen_23

Masterblaster, DAMN!

[TheGunslinger]

Ok, here goes.

Once, a long time ago in another life, I was a private investigator. For the most part, I used to work for insurance firms on injury related matters, but every once in a while someone would pick my business out of a phone book and request that I do the usual 'I think my husband/wife is cheating on me' bit.

So over I go to this one ladies house, who was convinced that her husband was cheating on her. I ask her the usual battery of questions - Why do you think he's cheating on you, where do you think he is going when he does, is it someone you know - and the other routine questions about what car he drives and where he works, so that I can pick him up out of the parking lot and see where he goes.

She tells me that he is a second hand car dealer - which should have been a pretty big clue that the guy was dodgy, in my view - and that he works at a dealership in a pretty nice part of town. She said that she was convinced he was cheating, because there were long blond hairs in the car when he drives home. He was also coming home later than usual and being evasive about where he was. Usually, if you think your long-term partner is cheating on you, chances are you're correct. I forget the exact statistic but it's in the high 80's that people who are suspicious enough to hire an investigator are usually on the money.

So she hires me and pays me a retainer to follow this guy after work. He usually finishes around 6 or so, the client tells me, and heads straight home - recently he has been getting back about 8 or so.

Ok, I think and get all my kit together and go to a pretty good spot near his work. I pick him up pretty quickly as he wanders about the yard, talking to customers and selling cars. I also have a pretty good idea where his car is parked, and I think I know the route that he will take home, should he go straight home.

Now the thing with private investigation is that it's boring. Really dull. I'm not bad at keeping myself motivated, but after a bunch of hours you are going to get over it and your attention will wander. I must've just missed the guy getting into his car, but I saw a flash of long blond hair and the passenger side door close and the car come to life. Following at a discrete distance, I realised that the wife's initial thoughts that there were long blond hairs in the car were correct - the passenger had a pretty big mane of it.

They don't head towards the guys home at all, and instead head towards a local park area that's pretty well shaded. 'Ah hah' I think, as this part of town is the usual lover's lane type area - it's starting to look pretty likely that this guy is indeed doing the dirty on his wife.

So they park and both get out of the car. Again, I don't get a great look at the passenger or the guy as I am busy parking my car and getting my gear set up - I intended to only get them making out, as anything further is a bit icky. Occasionally some heavy petting or something will be in shot, to really seal the deal but full on sex is definitely a no-no, due to privacy laws. As a rule of thumb, if it's something you can get away with in full view of the public then generally it's ok.

The pair of them get out and sit on the grass, with their backs to me. They lean in and start kissing, then hands start to move a bit - then a fly is undone. As blondie moves over and starts to initiate an act that I am pretty quick to not film, I see their faces for the first time - great for me, as it fully confirms who the two are. Not so great for my client, because not only is she being cheated on - but blondie is actually a guy.

Yep. Really long blond hair, pretty slender build - but definitely, certainly a guy.

Gay porn not really being my thing, I get enough video to confirm that they are indeed 2 dudes making out, then shut off the camera and go back to the client the next day. I insist that she pay me before I hand over the video tape - which she does, her suspicions mounting - then I give her the tape, wish her good luck and then head off - I reckon I got down the end of the driveway before I heard her screech of horror at what she saw....

[TheLastRifleMan]

Wow. Absolutely. Just. Wow.

Well written gunslinger, very well done!

Man, to have been a fly in the room when she watched that video...

[shrapnel]

How does that work, if you aren't allowed to film anyone having sex, if they're doing it in public?

[TheGunslinger]

It could still be a violation of privacy - because they never consented to their act being recorded, despite them doing it in a public area.

They don't completely wave their right to privacy, despite being in a park - they did seek some privacy because they were away from other people in a secluded area.

So to err on the side of caution, I generally used to get enough to leave in no doubt that they were engaged in the act, but no more than that. A judge tends to get a bit shirty if he's subjected to half an hour of gay-porn for little reason, not to mention the people in the video can get a bit upset, too.

[Organdonor]

I can't post in here. Too gross.

Between being a paramedic for many years, and my current gig working in a wound care center, you don't want to hear about it.

Let me just say this... we've learned that when a wound looks like it's moving.... it's not the WOUND that's moving...

[TheLastRifleMan]

I can't post in here. Too gross.

Between being a paramedic for many years, and my current gig working in a wound care center, you don't want to hear about it.

Let me just say this... we've learned that when a wound looks like it's moving.... it's not the WOUND that's moving...

Please...Post something! You can't tempt us like that and leave us hanging!

Ok, I will make you a deal. Post one tale and I will post the tale of the time I had a very bad Freudian slip in front of a 600 lb. woman. Or the time I had to fix a power chair for a 400 lb. transvestite. Your choice.

[shrapnel]

Just, please, no maggots. I know there are excellent wound care stories that don't involve maggots, because my father works in wound care. And he has wonderful stories. None of which involve maggots.

Dear lord I hate those things.



You are, of course, welcome to post whatever you want.

[Oneswunk]

Fuck both of ya post something! Teasing is not nice.
Sorry my job is boring in this sense, nothing to add.