My Job, My Hell...

Share a survival experience with us and explain what you learned from it. You might help someone.

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TheLastRifleMan
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by TheLastRifleMan » Fri Jul 08, 2016 9:18 am

Thanks laager! It's been tough, tougher then anything I have ever been through. I woke up one morning in March of 2014 and found I couldn't talk, read or write.

I have been getting better, thanks to lot of therapy. It's been taking me this long to re learn to type anything that makes sense.
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Mad Mike » Fri Jul 08, 2016 10:30 am

TheLastRifleMan wrote:Thanks laager! It's been tough, tougher then anything I have ever been through. I woke up one morning in March of 2014 and found I couldn't talk, read or write.

I have been getting better, thanks to lot of therapy. It's been taking me this long to re learn to type anything that makes sense.


Just don't give up, it's a long, slow road back. :cry: But I'm sure you can do it. :clap:

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by 12_Gauge_Chimp » Fri Jul 08, 2016 2:15 pm

TheLastRifleMan, I had always wondered where you had gone and now I got my answer.

I had hoped it was something else keeping you away from ZS. Something a lot less medically related and more of a "Hey, TheLastRifleMan won the lottery and is taking an extended vacation and is too busy to check in with ZS."

Either way, I'm glad your back on ZS and I'm glad you're doing better health wise. We missed you and your stories.:D

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Sat Jul 09, 2016 1:03 am

TheLastRifleMan wrote:Thanks laager! It's been tough, tougher then anything I have ever been through. I woke up one morning in March of 2014 and found I couldn't talk, read or write.

I have been getting better, thanks to lot of therapy. It's been taking me this long to re learn to type anything that makes sense.

Brother that is all anyone can ask for, one more day and one more step towards getting better. Just keep pushing and keep knocking your goals down and moving forward. It won't be easy, and will take one hundred percent and then some.

I was extremely lucky that I had Lil and Bec to kick me in the rear end and keep me moving forward (plus they bribed me) and it is very important that you stick with whatever rehabilitation schedule/activities that you are told to do after you finish with your therapy sessions (but I am sure you have already been told this).

Take care, stay safe. And watch your six, a Corporal used to always tell us (when some moron asked why) that there were A** Bandits out there waiting.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by TheLastRifleMan » Sat Jul 09, 2016 2:30 pm

12_Gauge_Chimp wrote:TheLastRifleMan, I had always wondered where you had gone and now I got my answer.

I had hoped it was something else keeping you away from ZS. Something a lot less medically related and more of a "Hey, TheLastRifleMan won the lottery and is taking an extended vacation and is too busy to check in with ZS."

Either way, I'm glad your back on ZS and I'm glad you're doing better health wise. We missed you and your stories.:D
I really appreciate all the support, folks. Means so much to me right now.

I just found (yesterday at 12 noon, actually) that my hearing date's time has been moved up. That means I will have to be there at 10 am EST instead of 12 pm this coming Monday.

Thank Valhalla that I have lots of anti-anxiety drugs as part of my daily no-more-stroke medicines.

I didn't realize how many different types of strokes there are and how they effect people. I was lucky in some respects since my stroke was the most dangerous and possibly lethal one could have.

I am glad you guys are behind me and will be thinking about you kind folks and ZS as I wait for the trial to finally arrive.
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by TheLastRifleMan » Sat Jul 09, 2016 2:32 pm

Oh, and the Michigan State lottery jackpot is almost up to $550 MILLION!

That's half a billion. Need to buy a ticket, because Unca RifleMan wants his own private island.
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Sat Jul 09, 2016 5:09 pm

TheLastRifleMan wrote:
I am glad you guys are behind me and will be thinking about you kind folks and ZS as I wait for the trial to finally arrive.[/quote]


Okay now that made me laugh a bit......mainly because Lil and I had been married for a just around a month or so and we received an OPORD and I was triple and quadruple checking my TA-50 (Army issue field gear, I always liked the Marine Corps saying Deuce Gear). Not the issue stuff, but my personal field gear.

Lets just say there was plenty of taping, un-taping, re-taping with some jumping, crawling and rolling around going on when Lil came in and asked me exactly what I was doing.

So I told her that I was heading out to an undisclosed place, for an unknown amount of time and would be home when I got home. I had previously told her about the new guy that told his wife he would be home for dinner and to have the pot roast waiting (we were just doing a regular jump).....what none of the peons knew until we left the plane was that we left Fort Benning and jumped out at Fort Richardson, 90+ days or so later we loaded up for a jump at Fort Richardson and came out over Fort Benning. We dogged his rear end the entire time with comments and questions concerning the status of his pot roast and marriage.

Anyway she asked me if I was worried about any potential soldiers......I said no not especially. Then she said but don't you worry?

Of course I do, but I worry more about the clowns behind me.......they always stick me on point.

The Corporal was an odd guy, but he was correct.....you need 360 degree situational awareness.........

Good luck on the lotto.......
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Shiloh » Sat Jul 09, 2016 6:00 pm

So I work online, part of which includes doing paid surveys. Most are pretty normal, asking stuff like political orientation, "what would you do in situation x, y, z, etc", but occasionally I get something like this...

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by shrapnel » Sun Jul 10, 2016 5:08 am

Another night, another dead baby. Poor little thing. :(
OTTB wrote:"What's that you're wearing?"
"This? Oh, just my rabies hat."
shrapnel wrote:Darling, I would never fondle your sphenoid.
Dr. Cox wrote: People aren't chocolates. Do you know what they are mostly? Bastards. Bastard-coated bastards with bastard fillings.
JamesCannon wrote:Shrapnel, if you were a superhero, you'd be Captain Buzzkill Peener Pain.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Sun Jul 10, 2016 10:31 pm

Shiloh wrote:So I work online, part of which includes doing paid surveys. Most are pretty normal, asking stuff like political orientation, "what would you do in situation x, y, z, etc", but occasionally I get something like this...

Image


My first thought was is this even possible? I mean is that what they do with all the fat they suck out? Second thought.....I do not really want to know.

Well I've done worse that shower with soap made out of fat cells.......still worse things out there that that.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Mad Mike » Mon Jul 11, 2016 8:43 am

shrapnel wrote:Another night, another dead baby. Poor little thing. :(

That's a terrible thing. How awful for the mother, and I'm sure for you too. Years ago I worked security at a hospital, and the pediatric ward killed me. I'm damn glad I don't have to do that any more, as I've never been able to forget those dying children.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by TheLastRifleMan » Mon Jul 11, 2016 1:05 pm

Hearing is over. Will not find out anything for quite a while. My attorney said within three months.

Sucks bilge water.
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by turbo6 » Mon Jul 11, 2016 3:00 pm

Shiloh wrote:So I work online, part of which includes doing paid surveys. Most are pretty normal, asking stuff like political orientation, "what would you do in situation x, y, z, etc", but occasionally I get something like this...

Image
I do surveys here and there for extra bucks for Amazon and there truly some weird ass questions in these things. Though, that has to be the weirdest one I've seen.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Shiloh » Mon Jul 11, 2016 4:00 pm

turbo6 wrote:
Shiloh wrote:So I work online, part of which includes doing paid surveys. Most are pretty normal, asking stuff like political orientation, "what would you do in situation x, y, z, etc", but occasionally I get something like this...

Image
I do surveys here and there for extra bucks for Amazon and there truly some weird ass questions in these things. Though, that has to be the weirdest one I've seen.
Mechanical Turk? I've turned into my full-time job and you definitely see some weird shit on some of those surveys. :lol:
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Stercutus » Mon Jul 11, 2016 4:03 pm

Should be a check question. Since I always click the first box I come to that allows me to read the article I guess the program might interpret it that I read the question and am not Hannibal Lector.
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Shiloh » Mon Jul 11, 2016 4:10 pm

Stercutus wrote:Should be a check question. Since I always click the first box I come to that allows me to read the article I guess the program might interpret it that I read the question and am not Hannibal Lector.
A lot of the surveys I do have "Attention check" questions to make sure you're actually reading, but this one was filled with nothing but questions like these. :gonk:
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Barnabus » Tue Jul 12, 2016 10:14 am

TheLastRifleMan wrote:Hearing is over. Will not find out anything for quite a while. My attorney said within three months.

Sucks bilge water.
hearing for what? did I miss a post?
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by TheLastRifleMan » Thu Jul 14, 2016 10:07 am

A hearing to see if Social Security will consider me disabled for benefits.

It was a rough thing to go through. I don't won't to go through it again.
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Thu Jul 21, 2016 4:36 pm

Wow learn something new everyday. I did not know that there was a hearing for that, the people that I know that are on that program never said anything about a hearing. Then again they spend the money on stuff that probably would not be considered "good stuff" by the powers that be........

I hope it went well for you.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by TheLastRifleMan » Thu Jul 21, 2016 7:29 pm

They sure do. My first application was denied. I am appealing it. My attorney couldn't believe it.

Just because you become ill or injured doesn't mean you get disability from Social Security. A judge or two might have to decide that.

I have not heard anything yet, but it has only been 10 days. It may be over 90 before I hear anything.

I took me twenty minutes to write this post, ten more to edit it.
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by TheLastRifleMan » Fri Jul 22, 2016 4:44 pm

shrapnel wrote:Another night, another dead baby. Poor little thing. :(
So sad to hear this. That must be hard to deal with. I can't imagine. :(
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Stercutus » Fri Jul 22, 2016 4:55 pm

TheLastRifleMan wrote:They sure do. My first application was denied. I am appealing it. My attorney couldn't believe it.

Just because you become ill or injured doesn't mean you get disability from Social Security. A judge or two might have to decide that.

I have not heard anything yet, but it has only been 10 days. It may be over 90 before I hear anything.

I took me twenty minutes to write this post, ten more to edit it.


It is a crazy system. My wife would be automatically approved but she can still work and is otherwise healthy so she has no interest in filing for disability.

In the last 20 years the rolls of the disabled have swelled amazingly in the US. I know of plenty of people who like my wife could work but, instead have no interest in doing so. Others who can't work but don't get any help.
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by TheLastRifleMan » Fri Jul 22, 2016 6:58 pm

Who wants another Unca RifleMan's Tales of Horror and Macabre Repair Calls?

No? Too bad. I call this one "The House of the Never Rising Sun."

(Bare with me. It has been a long time since I have written one of these tales and trying to get the style right. Anomic Aphasia is a real bitch.)

This most of been the second winter of repairing all things wheeled for the handicapped, working for my first employer of this occupation, which would be Year of Hell 1.1, or what most of people refer to as the year 2002 A.D.

After returning one afternoon from my usual encounters with the insane and grime covered world of damaged Durable Medical Eqipment, I checked in on The Slacker, the inept dispatcher I was unfortunately stuck with, in his office to let him know I was back and would be in my shop. Before going down to my chilly cinder block walled abode, I gave a once over at the next day's calls. I was pleased he had given me a light schedule for the next day. This happened on occasion and would give me time to get caught up on "in house" repairs on such things as company owned wheel chairs, rental scooters and the like. When there are only two such companies in a four county radius, there is never a shortage of "units" (generic term for any item mentioned in the latter sentence) the need some degree of hands on attention.

I also had a warehouse manager, who was in charge of such units, that believed he was the hardest worker in the entire company. Just ask him during one of his ten-a-day 8 minute cigarette breaks. If I so much as tried to take a break of my own and crack open the book I was reading, he would call my supervisor and bitch that I was slacking off. After he had finished his 15th cigarette of the day, off course. So I ate my lunches and took my breaks while sitting in a comfy folding camp chair in my company van, doors closed and away from his prying thick lensed eyes. If I was in my shop, I was always wiping down dust covered equipment and shining the chrome likes mirrors to his satisfaction as he started on his third pot of coffee before yelling at his three assistants to work faster. Even so, I would much rather pass the time polishing recently washed manual wheel chairs then wondering if I would get caught in the crossfire of a gang war while doing my job or driving an hour to a customer only to find the Slacker had mixed up the appointment time.

Did I mention the Slacker was inept? Let me take that back. I called him "the Slacker" for reason and I guess, dear reader, you can determine why. He was lazy. He wasn't too bright. He wouldn't listen to instruction. He lost paperwork on a regular basis that you could create a whole new calendar upon. He needed to be somewhere else, doing something else.

In my past tales, it may seem that I am extremely critical of the guy. Yes, that is true, but as Michael Corlione in the classic film The Godfather quoted in a famous scene "it's nothing personal, just strictly business." Personally, he was an OK guy. From what the other folks there told me (before he was let go during a mass lay off) that for about two years he really tried and worked hard. By the time I got there, it seemed to much for him and he just gave up trying to be perfect and did the bare minimum. The only reason he had not been let go way before the boss' had to cut payroll and lay off 1/3 of the company was the fact the Slacker had one and only one trump card in his otherwise shitty hand of life:

He was handicapped!

From birth, he had to use a pair of crutches to move around. He used a car with special equipment in order to drive. He could not come down into the downstairs repair shop, the stairway much too steep and with three landings, was a real challenge to go down. I can't imagine going up. He did get around and do a lot of things pretty well but he knew how to play the part of a "needful cripple" like Perlman plays a violin. I know, I know, says I, that we are brought up to feel pity for those "less fortunate then ourselves" (a phrase I hate). We are trained to help such as people out of courtesy. All fine and good, you say to me and you should be ashamed of even thinking such things about your poor fellow worker. Maybe so, maybe so.

Dulce bellum inexpertis. War is sweet to the inexperienced. Just because he's a nice guy and can't walk without aid doesn't automatically give him the skills to do a job right. When you don't have the basic information to drive out to a customer's home in order to repair necessary equipment, such as address, type of equipment, even correct phone numbers time and time again, it not only makes me, the lowly wheel chair jockey, look bad but makes the whole company look like a bunch of nincompoops. I lost how many times he lost work orders or filled out repair slips, only to have me go out and get the information that hand been stamped on the unit, information he had never filled out in the first place. People make mistakes but when the simple errors start to create even bigger ones, turning into a huge snowball of reeking sewage that effects a whole department, well, you can get a whole service department pretty pissed off at one single person, regardless if that person is handicapped or not. Every time he screwed up bad enough, he would pull out his "get back to work free" card and it was all over except the bad feelings.

The schedule book actually looked pretty good. About three calls, all in the same county, in the same city, no less! One was even the delivery of a manual chair, a "sign and scoot" as we like to call it. Haul the chair inside, pop it open, have them sign, yank off a copy of the work order with a practiced flourish and before you know it you are halfway to the next stop. Easy, easy, easy! Customer's are happy, I'm happy. I was, that is, until I read the next call, the last one of my day.

I didn't know the customer's name. I had never been to the house before. I should have known, but my brain didn't register the address or area as one of my "red flags". A red flag, you might ask? What is that? Well, a "Red Flag" was a location in the part of town that made the Somme in 1917 look peaceful. Run down houses, vacant lots, corner liquor stores that sold Boone's for 2/$3 and had razor wire along the edges of the roof. Signs that had been mounted under the stop signs warned "NO LOITERING: ILLEGAL DRUG ACTIVITY". Half the street signs were missing, the better to confuse the "po po" when they had to respond to a shooting. In the winter, the snow plow drivers refuse to clear the snow due to fear of getting carjacked for their wallets. In the fall, houses fell victim to arson on those Friday nights with bright moonlight. In the summer, on hot nights, most people sleep in their basements. Not for the coolness but because it's safer when a stray 9mm round two blocks away zips through the walls of your bedroom at 3 am.

I have heard of worse places. Seen pictures, video recordings of them as well. But not many.

But at the time, those problems were far, far away in my mind. My main problem was, though, was the Slacker has not written what brand the unit is, what problem(s) it is having or WHAT the unit is! His usual answer?
"I dunno. I didn't ask." Typical. I get this at least four times a week. My boss knows it. Our billing secretary knows it. The two sales and custom seat installers know it. There is nothing they can do either.

I told myself I would check over my map books later and calculate my route. Ah, the days when GPS units for cars and trucks were an expensive luxury or a dream for poor working stiff like me. Little would I know within five years that a Ben Franklin would get you one. Downstairs I go, clean a few chairs, have Chinese food for lunch and before I know it, it's quittin' time! I am actually feeling upbeat and get good night's sleep.

I get up and head out to my easy day. It's cold but not too bad. Roads are clear, Mom decided to pack me a lunch of my favorite goodies, car is running good and I'm punching in just as my boss is coming up stairs.

"You open this afternoon? I have a scooter that just got dropped off and I want to deliver it tomorrow. I need to to assemble it, if possible." he asks.
"Yeah, no problem, happy to. Three in the north side then I will be back." I tell him.
"Whose house?" he asks. Since he has sold most of the units in that area and has a memory for names that is even amazing to me, he usually likes to know what problems are going on with the machines we sell.
"Benny W___, a new chair delivery and a great unknown repair job (what we call it when the Slacker leaves out important info on paperwork) for a Jimmy K___ out in the North End." I reply. My boss rolls his eyes.
"Jimmy at Street A by Road to Hell?You gotta gun? I mean, a permit to carry, you know, with you now?" he says. Dead serious.
"Yeah, but I can't be healed, right? Rules." That was kind of a code he and I had. Of all the times I worked for that company, I never broke the rules regarding being packed. The second company I worked for doing the same, well, wish I could say I wasn't a virgin when it came to "being prepared for battle."
"Damn. Too bad. Be careful when you go out to Jimmy's. Have the two way on your Nextel ready (remember those, kiddies?) and 911 ready on speed dial. If it looks bad, bring the chair back with you." he says and heads out.

If anything, he was always cracking jokes about me having a "big gun" in my tool box, etc. Company rules are pretty clear: no guns, knives, clubs. You have anything like that, not only will you find yourself out of a job, you will be without employment before the police arrive. I never heard all the stories completely, but one of the delivery guys supposedly carried a "big Army .45" in his van before he was found out and fired. A couple years later, one of the female clerks got into a scrap with another lady clerk and pulled a can of pepper spray out of her pocket. In both cases, police became involved and charges were pressed. Unfortunately, that is all anyone would tell me.

It's not the fact that I liked my job, just that I needed it. It was the highest paying job I had ever had and I was determined not to screw it up. As much as I liked to, despite have the carry permit, I left my Model 65 S&W at home (the only pistol I could carry concealed that I owned at the time, next to my .38 Webley, which was chambered in .38 S&W. My only other cartridge handgun was a Ruger Blackhawk in .30 Carbine). I had a big, heavy crow bar stuck next to the driver's seat of the van and a 3lb. rubber coated dead blow hammer in my bigger tool box. I could honestly say those were "tools" in the truest sense, since I did use them as such. Their use as a weapon was secondary.

But my boss asking me if I had my gun was an odd one. He knew I was an honest employee and a stickler for the rules myself. And for him to ask my that in front of about five witnesses was also strange.

Little did I know that his weird inquiry would lead me to a strange place, both in mind and body.

Part II a bit later.
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We shall not sleep..."

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by TheLastRifleMan » Fri Jul 22, 2016 7:02 pm

[/quote]It is a crazy system. My wife would be automatically approved but she can still work and is otherwise healthy so she has no interest in filing for disability.

In the last 20 years the rolls of the disabled have swelled amazingly in the US. I know of plenty of people who like my wife could work but, instead have no interest in doing so. Others who can't work but don't get any help.[/quote]

I have memory problems associated with speech, plus a lot of other things the stroke did. Vision, speaking, balance, a whole list.

I am glad she was able to to work and is contributing to society. If I had any other road to take, it would have been that one. But looks like I am destined to go another direction for now.
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