Sometimes I wonder about People...

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

Sometimes I wonder about people...Ok, so MOST of the time I wonder about people.

When I was driving for Perry Drugs we had routes that were "bid" on by seniority that were guaranteed overtime, the rest of the week we rotated through "local" deliveries (those that didn't require an overnight stay).

There was this store manager down in Dearborn, everyone called her "The Nazi"! (Long before Seinfeld's Soup Nazi!)

5'1", Blonde hair pulled back in a severe bun with not a strand out of place and blue eyed. She was pretty, but ruined it with the "I'm short and a woman so I've got to be a colossal bitch so everyone will take me seriously!" attitude. 

The stories I had heard of her being "difficult" were legion, but I had never really had a problem with her.

I arrived one day to deliver her store, the third of four for me that day and when I arrived they were not ready for me just yet. I had run straight through, skipping my breaks and lunch in an effort to beat the heat of the day as much as possible. It was August, which in Michigan is often worse than July. Because they were not quite ready I walked out to the floor and bought a Coke and a $.25 bag of chips to tide me over.

I was in the back room waiting for the stock guys to get everything the way they wanted it, eating my chips and sipping my Coke when in she blew like a hurricane.

She started in on the stock guys for not being ready, then she whirled on me. Clapping her hands like she was rounding up hogs.

"Come on Driver, COME ON. You can eat chips on your own time, get your ASS IN GEAR, we've got a truck to unload!!!"

I finished my chips and tossed my bag in the trash, summoned up all the charming I could muster and asked her:

"Hey, are you married?"

All of a sudden she went from power-mad ubër Nazi to coquettish young girl, she kind of patted her bun and blushing said:

"Why yes, yes I am. Why do you ask?"

"Because I didn't marry you. And I don't live with you. And I don't have to sleep with you. So...I don't have to put up with your shit! You will treat me with respect and not clap at me like your little french poodle, or I will pull that truck down the street to the nearest restaurant and take BOTH my breaks and my lunch and you won't see me for an hour...we understand each other?"

She spat and sputtered a second with an "I never...You can't talk to me like that...I should call your boss..."

"Go ahead," I told her walking for the door "remember that you used profanity in speaking to me first, in front of these witnesses you've been treating so well...see ya in an hour!"

"Wait, WAIT!" she called after me. "I apologize, I shouldn't have started out that way...it was rude."

I stopped and told her "I'm sorry too...but I really hate being clapped at...I'll get the truck set up, OK?"

"OK"

And that was that, the one, and only time I had a problem with her.

I don't know why it was so common for Store managers to be disrespectful of their drivers, why they thought they were in charge.

I had to tell more than one that "We operate on the Navy principal here..."

"What's that?" They'd ask.

"See that door there?" I'd say pointing to their back door.
"Everything the other side of that door is your ship, and this..."
I'd say indicating my truck "this is my ship. Now the Captain of that ship doesn't tell the captain of THIS ship what to do..."

Sometimes their arrogance came back to bite them in the ass.

We had an AutoWorks store in Saginaw, the last stop of the route.

The auto parts stores got some pretty heavy stuff. We had these green plastic totes they shipped less than whole cases of things in.
These tubs were 28"X18"X18", filled with shock absorbers they easily topped 60 lbs. If they happened to have motorcycle batteries they could be even heavier. Now our trailers were 48 feet long and we had 45' of rollers. So by the time we got to the last store, the rollers were waist high at about a 30° angle and a 45 foot run to build up speed.

As a conscientious driver, I liked to warn the folks in the store if a box or tote was heavy. They couldn't tell just by watching me, as I did this all day every day and I was built for this.

So one day I arrived at the Saginaw store, set up my rollers and started sending their load down. The Store manager was a fella that made Davey Jones look muscular...5'4" and a buck twenty soaking wet, if that! So as I started getting to the heavier things (Light on top, heavy on the bottom) I called out my usual "Heavy!"

The Manager waited until the box made it down to him, then called up the rollers to me...

"Hey, we're not a bunch of women down here that you gotta tell us what's heavy and what's not...just send that shit down the roller and let us worry about what's heavy and what's not!!!"

Now I was just trying to be nice, but hey...if that's what he wanted.
Ooooooookay.
I aim to please.

So I continued to send down cases without speaking another word.
As I got to the bottom row, I picked up a green tote full of shock absorbers. I looked down the rollers to be sure the Manager was paying attention...he wasn't. He was talking to someone out of my limited field of vision and just had his hand up in a casual "Stop" position. I waited for him to finish his conversation, instead he waved for me to send it...
So I did.

I gave it no shove to help it along, none was needed...I merely let go. As the tote accelerated down the rollers, you could hear it gathering momentum in the pitch of the rollers whine. By the time it reached the bottom of the roller, I'd guess it was going 10 MPH.

The tote hit his hand.
His hand hit his shoulder.
He and the tote hit the ground and skidded to a stop 10 feet further in the store than where he started. 

He leapt to his feet, fighting mad!
"You Mother Fucker, you did that on purpose!!! You trying to kill me?!?"

I looked confused:
"Well, you're not a bunch of women down there...you don't need me to tell you what's heavy and what's not...I just send the shit down the rollers and let you worry about what's heavy and what's not. Maybe you should pay attention instead of talking to your buddy."

With a great deal of grumbling he resumed his position at the end of the rollers...

Moral of the story: When someone's being nice...
Don't be a dick!

Sometimes I just wonder about people...

Don't let people wonder about you...Lol!

Be Well Folks!

Beastly Bear

Revenge of the Strong Back...

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

Once upon a time, many moons ago...I worked for a truly horrible boss.

I was driving tractor/trailers for Perry Drug Stores, a local business that was growing by leaps and bounds!

His name was Harold.

What made Harold a horrible boss you may ask?

Well, to start with Harold suffered from megalomania compounded by severe narcissistic tendencies! Add to that a general bad attitude and you have Harold. He was the kind of guy that you'd say "Good morning" to and just get a grunt in response, like you weren't worth the effort of forming words.

Now put a guy like that, in a job he really has no experience in and put him in charge of 27 drivers that have been doing this for years and you can see the potential for conflict.

You see Harold had no business being put in charge of drivers and transportation. He had only gotten his previous job as Warehouse Manager because he happened to live next door to the owner of the company. The owner having taken pity on Harold when he lost his job as the Menswear manager of a recently defunct department store.

Harold was in his late fifties or early sixties at the time. Bald and overweight, with a head shaped like a football. He wore glasses too big for his face which accentuated his overlarge eyes. His jowls and lack of neck lent him the aspect of a giant two legged toad. 

As a nickname, folks were rather evenly split between "Frogger"(from the old video game) to the less flattering Jabba the Hut!

But being a classic narcissistic megalomaniac Harold thought he knew EVERYTHING! There was no talking to him.

Things really came to a head for me personally when Harold was showing off some new routes he'd laid out to some other drivers and I. As he gave us his supremely confident thoughts on how wonderful his plans were, I happened to notice an error in timing and distance. 

I politely said "Excuse me Harold, but the way you have that route there set up." I pointed "I don't think it..."

"You don't get to think!" Harold rudely interrupted.

"You're nothing but a strong back...you leave the thinking to the strong mind. You just do what you're told!"

I felt the heat starting to climb, both from anger and the embarrassment of being treated so in front of my friends and colleagues. I knew there was no winning so I clamped my mouth shut before starting something that would surely see me fired.

Now friends, I've been called many a thing in my time but stupid isn't one of them. The lowest I've ever scored on an IQ test is 137, and a couple over 140. So when I say that stung...even though I knew better, you'll understand.

So I bided my time...as opportunities to best a fool come often in this world, and this one came sooner than I expected.

Within two weeks of my dressing down by Harold, I had a local run to downtown Detroit on West Jefferson Ave.

Now when I say downtown, I mean DOWNTOWN. The company had been experimenting with palletizing our loads and put lift-gates on the back of all our trailers, as a way of speeding up the unloading process. But not all our stores were set up for it yet, such a store was the first on my route.

I buzzed the rear door, and the assistant manager came out and we walked together to the back of the truck to break the seal. When we did and I rolled up the door I noticed we had a problem.

The truck was loaded to the very back, with four shrink wrapped pallets tall enough to brush the door overhead blocking our way.

"Are those for us?" the manager asked.

"I'll crawl up and see..." I replied.

They weren't.

In fact, they were not for any store on my route! You see Perry Drugs was expanding so quickly that they had outgrown their current truck loading bay capacity. We compensated by loading the routes in waves. We filled all the bays and loaded those trailers, then pulled them out and loaded a second route on another trailer, in the same door. These four pallets belonged on the first wave trailer.

Well, there was no working around them, and no room to move them to one side. The manager nixed the idea of unloading two on the ground outside the truck so I could get to his load, as downtown Detroit has a tendency to see things "walk away". If you know what I mean...

I asked to use their phone (WAY before cell phones) and called Harold. I explained the situation to him, suggested I drive back to the warehouse to pull these four pallets off, then return to my route.

This would put me no more than 2 hours behind.

"No, no, no..." Harold replied "You're just trying to screw me out of overtime on a local run!"

"Well I don't know what you expect me to do Harold..."

"Do you recognize the store number that they belong to?" he asked.

"Yeah..."

"Then this is what I want you to do. You take those four pallets and deliver them to the store they go to, then get your ass back and finish your route...got it?"

*heavy sigh* "Got it, deliver them to the store they belong to then finish my route...you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure Goddammit...now do as you're told!" *CLICK*

I should also mention Harold's phone etiquette left something to be desired as well.

"What did he say?" asked the manager

"Deliver them to their correct store." I replied

"Where's that?" He asked

"Muskegon Heights..."

Geography lesson boys and girls! 

Hold your right hand up palm facing you. This gives a fairly accurate representation of the shape of Michigan's lower peninsula. Detroit sits about where the lower part of your thumb attaches to your palm. From there, draw a line diagonally across your palm to  the other side of your hand. About midway up...THAT'S where Muskegeon Heights is. 

In a truck about 4 hrs. and 200 miles!!!

So that's what I did!

When I returned to my original route and that first store...some 8 1/2 hours later, the manager was apoplectic!!! 

"Where the hell have you been? Your boss is furious, he said as soon as you showed up you were to call him at home!!!"

I shrugged, "OK"

I couldn't help but crack a grin as I dialed the number and waited for the connection.

"Hello"

"Hey Harold, you wanted me to call?"

"Where the fuck have you been?" 

In my minds eye I saw his red face, veins and eyes bulging as his Blood pressure soared. 

"They've been blowing my phone up all God damn day, they had to get drugs from other stores to fill orders cause you're so late!"

"I was doing what I was told..."

"What...?"

"Remember, 4 pallets on the end of the trailer...

Don't belong on this route...

I suggested bringing them back to the warehouse, but YOU said deliver them to the store where they go."

"Well Where the fuck did they go?!?"

"Now see...one would think that would be the first question a strong mind might have asked..."

"WHERE???"

"Muskegeon Heights." I calmly replied.

"Well why the fuck didn't you tell me that???"

"You didn't ask me that, you asked me if I knew where they went...

I said 'yes' and you told me to deliver them where they go. I'm just a strong back doing what I was told!"

"You son of a bitch..."

"Look Harold, I gave you a reasonable solution. But you're so worried everybody's trying to screw you over, and that you know better than everybody. You just don't listen."

"You just get busy and finish that fucking route and I'll deal with you tomorrow..."

"Deal with me? How are you gonna deal with me?!?

 I was following a direct order from my immediate supervisor..."

*CLICK*

Satisfaction...

Harold livid...check!

8 1/2 hours of overtime...check!

Smarter than the boss...double check!

That was not the last time I hoist Harold by his own petard!

Every time I came off clean...he just couldn't help himself and made it just too easy for me.

I made him eat those words so many times...he had to have regretted them...maybe not.

 But I sure enjoyed rubbing his nose in them.

 It was quite lucrative as well, because every time he told me to do something stupid it made me money!

I've had better bosses since, and certainly none worse...

And I hope none of you have one as bad!

Be Well Folks!

Beastly Bear

Never Say Never...

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

As I may have mentioned, I try to NOT be a jerk...like most of you. I bite my tongue, let things slide, swallow my opinions... all in the name of getting along.

But every now and then you meet one of "those" people. You know the ones, the ones that get under your skin...till you just CAN'T let it slide.

From 1997-2001 I worked at General Motors Plant 6 in Pontiac, MI. building pickup trucks. I worked third shift, 10 pm-6 am and the shift attracted some "different" folks.  Like our buddy James.

For a while I worked on the final line, across from a guy we'll call Keith. Keith was a heavy set, red haired Hispanic guy of about 25 yrs. of age. For the most part an affable guy....for the most part

Keith's Achilles heel, personality wise was his overwhelmingly high opinion of himself. From his perspective, his Associates degree from the local community college made him a God of all human knowledge. This caused him to go on long tirades about whatever the topic of the day was.

Google was in it's infancy, with Yahoo being the search engine of choice for most everyone. Nobody had smart phones...
 Keith, having taken computer classes at the community college...would often turn his tirades against the "Stupid old Men" in Congress that wanted to regulate the Internet.
"They're trying to regulate something they know nothing about!!!
It's just stupid!!! If you're going to have an opinion on something that important, you should really educate yourself about it...otherwise you just sound ignorant!"

Good lord I don't know how many times I heard THAT while working across form him.

While I tried to let these tirades just roll off my back, there were times I just couldn't keep my mouth shut...

So I often poked holes in his faulty logic, pointed out hypocrisies, and corrected him when he said something so flat out WRONG I just couldn't let it go.

Should you disagree with him, his first line of defense was the taunt: "And how many years of college did you go to?"

To which I would answer "It's knowledge Keith, not College that's important here...don't believe me? Look it up on the Internet!"

I always got the feeling that Keith spent his early life as a spoiled, indulged child. He'd never be able to play poker as his every thought was revealed by his face. He had very little ability to reign in his emotions. Light skinned with freckles across the bridge of his nose, his face would go crimson at the slightest bit of anger.

I remember one particular rant that he went on was about the nepotism employed by the Union in getting their kids into the plant. 
I just looked at him...though I knew the story, I asked innocently.

"So...how'd you get hired in here?"

"My Dad's a Skilled Trades Electrician, he got me in...."

"Uh huh..." I said

"What?"

"Mr. Pot, meet Mr. Kettle...news flash, you're both black!!!"
His face reddened, veins stuck out on his forehead...I thought he was having a stroke.

"It's not the same thing..." he stated.

"Yes it is," I interrupted "it's exactly the same thing. Everybody in here that's been hired in the last five years, is here because they KNOW somebody or a parent works for GM...EVERYBODY!!!"

He snorted his derision of my opinion and stopped talking to me the rest of the day, a common punishment for disagreeing with him....ah, silence.

Things REALLY came to a head one day when he started a gun control rant/argument...a subject with which I am quite well versed.

I'll not bore you with the whole long argument, but when he said to me:
"Nobody needs a semi-automatic to gun to shoot deer, where you shoot 3 bullets every time you pull the trigger!" 

"That's not what that means Keith. What you're describing is the 3-shot burst setting on a full auto machine gun/assault rifle, and nobody hunts with those! What semi-auto means is that when you pull the trigger the gun shoots 1 shot, then the gun reloads itself and is ready to fire again the next time you pull the trigger. But you must pull the trigger every time, 1 pull = 1 shot." I replied calmly.

"You're full of shit," he said face coloring "that's not what I was told..."

I had had enough.

"Look Keith, I don't know who's filling your head with the stupid bullshit you've been spewing for the last 2 hours, but to anyone that knows what they're talking about...you sound like an idiot!
You want to regulate something you know nothing about!!!
Just like those old men that want to regulate your Internet...
And that's just stupid!!! If you're going to have an opinion on something this important, you should really educate yourself about it...otherwise you just sound ignorant!!!" 

Ok, maybe that was a little over the top, throwing his own words back at him...but it felt so right!

His face went from pink to bright red, then he crossed the line.
"Fuck you, you MOTHER Fucker!!! I'm sick of your fucking bullshit..."

"What bullshit is that?" I interrupted calmly "You mean the bullshit where I tell you that you're wrong and uninformed? Seems I have to tell you that a LOT!"

"Fine Mother Fucker! I'll never talk to you EVER AGAIN!!!" he vowed.

"Oh please," I answered "we both know you have neither the willpower nor the maturity to make good on that threat!"

He went from crimson to purple, and I thought his head might just explode as he declared:

"I will NEVER, say another WORD to you, as LONG as I LIVE!"
spittle flying as he enunciated every word!

"Never say never..." I replied.

Next day I figured he'd be over his funk as usual..so I greeted him with my typical "Hey Keith!"

I got nothing but the "look of daggers" in return.

"Really?" I said, shrugged and went to work.

After about a week of this...I couldn't help but start pushing his buttons. 

One of Keith's MANY rants was about his hatred of country music. I happen to be a fan. But out of respect for my coworker's feelings, I never played any on my stereo. In my car I had a 90 min. cassette of Marty Robin's "Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs", it don't GET more country than that!

So I came in, offered my daily "Hey Keith!" to more daggers...

Nothing.

So I popped my cassette into my stereo and hit "play"!
Keith's face went immediately crimson.

"Hey man, I haven't listened to this in a while...and I kind of miss it. Do you mind?"

Nothing.

"All you have to do is ask me to shut it off and I will..."

Nothing.

"Cool..." I said, and went about my business.

Was it childish? Absolutely!!!
But I was determined to break him and his foolishness...so every day we played out the above scenario! This lasted a month...until Keith put in for a different shift rather than speak a word to me.

This bothered me not in the least, as I got rid of a class "A" jerk in favor of a nice girl from first shift.

A couple months went by and I didn't give Keith another thought.

Then one day as I was walking out of the plant, I looked up and saw Keith walking in...talking to a buddy.

"Hey Keith, How ya Doing?" I asked.

Without missing a beat Keith replied:

"Ok Joe, How are you?"

I leaned in, looked him in the eye smiling and said:

"Told ya!"





Be Well Folks!

Beastly Bear

What's this crap...?

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

The other night I got out of work and made my way to my car. I work for GM in Flint, Mi. My plant at one time had almost 5,000 employees a shift, so as you can imagine the park lot is substantial.

Today only about 1,700 people share 2nd. shift with me, so there are still a lot of cars out there. Just not like before.

I had a fairly good parking spot, within 50 yds. of the door. I say "fairly good" because the parking lot is some 200 yds. wide and over half a mile long.

I got in the car and fired her up, turned on the a/c and adjusted the radio. As I put it in drive and began to pull out, I noticed something on the passenger side of my windshield. An oblong blob of white with black flecks...damn seagulls!!! They are a real problem around our plant, and they crap on EVERYTHING!

I knew better than to hit the wipers or washers I'd just smear it all over....well I'd wait until I got to a gas station and clean it off then.

I headed up the isle to head home, and the blob moved!!! Not downward, as gravity would dictate but laterally. What the hell?

What's this crap? Crap doesn't move...

I pulled over to take a look and this is what I found...
A tree frog! Where in the hell did a tree frog come from in the center of all this concrete?!?

He must have hitched a ride in on someone else's vehicle, then switched to mine...

Well, now what to do with him?
Put him on someone else's car?
Put him on the pavement? 
Let him take his chances on the ride home?

So being the big softie I am towards animals, I gently scooped him up and put him in my lunch box and brought him home!

So the city frog comes to the suburbs...
I gave him a nice home, next to one of the house lights so he can eat his fill at night...a nice bush to hide in during the day, what more could a frog want?!?

I wonder if he'll be popular with all the female frogs?
You know, new frog in town...
Will the country frogs swoon at this city frogs sophistication?
Will the male frogs be jealous of his "Too cool for the tree" ways?
We'll see...

Be Well Folks!

Beastly Bear

The art of Disinformation...

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

The other night I was talking with a fellow Team Leader at work...we had experienced some severe weather in the state with a possible tornado touchdown near Hale, MI.

Jokingly I said "I'm a Yale man myself..."

He looked at me and said "If you went to Yale, what the Hell are you doing working in here?!?"

"No no, I was born at Yale Community Hospital...in YALE, MI." 

"Oh," he said "oh that makes more sense..."

This got me to thinking...I know, shocking right? Lol

About the art of disinformation. Not lying "per se", but presenting facts in a certain way. Saying or not saying something that leads the listener to make assumptions.

As an example, before I started dating Momma Bear...I dated a bit. At the time I was driving Semi's for Perry Drugs. An honorable, if less than exciting or profitable sounding venture.

So should I meet a young lady in a bar and she asked me what I did for a living I would say that I was an 
"Interstate Pharmaceutical transportation Engineer" for Perry Drugs.

"Oh my..." She might answer, hearing "Pharmaceutical" and "engineer" in the same sentence. "Tell me about that."

"Well," I'd continue "I get a company vehicle, because I travel all throughout Michigan, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Wisconsin. When I have to be out overnight the company puts me up in a hotel room, and pays for my dinner. I check routing, visit stores, interact with vendors from multiple companies. I check and verify the security of the drug shipments on the route I'm on any given day...it's time consuming but very rewarding."

Now technically all that is true...but it certainly gives a different impression.

"Wow, where did you go to school?" She'd ask.

This one was a little dodgier...
"Ever hear of M.I.T. ?"

"Oh yes..." She'd say breathlessly.

Here I give a slight nod of the head, along with a minimalist shrug and raising of the palms as if to say "There you have it..."

"Cool..." She might answer...come on, this was almost 30 years ago....cool was, well...cool! Lol

Again, I never said I went to M.I.T....I merely asked if she'd ever heard of it.

Now before you all jump on my head for being a player and a Cad...I never kept up the charade longer than a few minutes...gently teasing them about being perhaps a little too trusting(gullible).

There was a time though when I used the art to confound an idiot, and send him sputtering out of my life forever.

After graduating High School I went to work for Gell's Sporting Goods full time...the military wouldn't take me, so why not?

After a couple years I was promoted to Assistant Manager myself after one of ours quit and Steve returned to Manage the Livonia Store.

I almost never had problems with customers, even belligerent ones seldom fazed me...but there was this one guy.

Let me preface this story thus:
I am a hunting/shooting/reloading nut. Rifle, pistol, shotgun, bow and arrow...you name it! Have been since the age of 12 or so. Read every magazine/book/article about the subject I could lay my hands on. I memorized ballistics charts and reloading manuals like other kids did batting averages. At 15 I was the youngest person Gell's ever hired to work the gun counter, I was of course too young to do the paperwork but I did everything else. The depth and breadth of my knowledge of the subjects was attested to in that if the older guys didn't know the answer to a question...they asked me.

One day two fellows came in to look at reloading equipment, an obvious "newbie", accompanied by an
"expert" read as "know-it-all".

I'd seen this before...

Newbie wants to "try it out" for a minimal outlay of cash.
The Expert trying to impress the newbie with his vast and superior knowledge tries to oversell his "friend" things he neither needs, nor is likely to use or use properly. Reloading is definitely an area where a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing.

As they walk up, the expert jumps in an starts to run the show...telling me what he wants, how he wants it, and so forth. The newbie is obviously uncomfortable.
So when the expert was done, I politely asked the newbie himself a couple points of clarification. With his answers in hand I began assembling for him a "beginners" beginners kit. One that would give him an introduction, at minimal cost and maximum safety.

Every step of the way, the expert had a comment, nothing was right, nothing was good enough....at every comment I stopped, explained my decision...gave the pro's and con's of going a different way...and each time the newbie trusted my judgment.

Finally the expert says to the newbie in exasperation:
"Don't you hate these fucking smart ass kids that's think they know every fucking thing!?!"

"Excuse me?" I said, not sure I'd just heard what I thought I just heard.

"You heard me..." He said.

"Sir if your recommendations are any indication...they show your knowledge to not only be limited, but dangerous for a beginner."

"Fuck you" he snarled.

"Sir, if you're not happy with the level of service being provided the door is located at the front of the store. If you can't find it on your own, I'd be happy to show it to you."

"You can't talk to me like that you fucking asshole, where's your Manager?"

"I AM my Manager sir..."

"Then I want to talk to the owner!"

"My Dad won't give a shit what you have to say..."

"Fuck this!" He sputtered "I'm outta here!!" 
And out he stomped, leaving me alone with the newbie.

"I'm sorry about my buddy." He said apologetically.
"As you can tell he's a bit of an asshole..."

"My apologies to you, I shouldn't have let him get under my skin...but that last comment was just too much!"
"You've got a good safe kit here, I started with one just like it when I was 14. It will do what you want with a maximum amount of safety. And if you decide you like it and want to upgrade, you're out a minimum amount of money"

"One question though..." He asked leaning in conspiratorially "Is your Dad really the owner?"

I leaned in as well "I never said he was. I said 'my dad won't give a shit what you have to say' which is true. 
I never implied my Dad owned the store...he made that assumption."

He got a big smile on his face and stuck out his hand.
"Rick" he said.
I shook his proffered hand.
"Joe"

"Your secret's safe with me...damn I wish I was as fast on my feet as you are!"
He gathered up his booty and walked off chuckling.

A month later Rick was back, enjoyed it so much he wanted a "real" set-up...asked for me by name.
Became a loyal customer, right up until they closed the doors due to the owners retiring and their kids not wanting anything to do with the family business.

Never saw Rick's buddy again...not that I missed him!

Be Well Folks!!!

Beastly Bear

Expectations...

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

Have you ever noticed just how much expectations color our lives?

When those expectations are not met, well the results can be "unexpected"! Lol.

When I was in High school I had a part time job after school at a local Sporting Goods store. On Saturdays I worked a 12 hour day, 9-9!

Minimum wage being about $2.75 back then, and paying my own car note, gas and insurance...money was ALWAYS tight. Being a young man that enjoyed the company of young women, that was where most of my money went.

So I often packed a lunch from home.

One Saturday I was up before the rest of the house, rooting around in the fridge for something for lunch.
In the meat tray I found something wrapped in Butcher's paper. Mom frequently stopped at Bazely's Meats, (one of the last Butcher shops in our area) for " special" treats.

Unwrapping the paper I discovered some natural casing, linked hotdogs, YUM!!! So I cut a couple free, grabbed a couple buns and diced up a half onion I'd also found in the fridge. Put some chips in a baggie, and it was off to work.

Never one to eat breakfast...I know, I know the most important meal of the day and all, I just never seemed to have the time! So by lunch I was starving!!!

We had a refrigerator at work to store our lunches, and we kept it stocked with condiments...mustard, ketchup, mayo...even dill pickle chips and sweet relish.

A microwave was provided for heating meals, so I got my hotdogs out and placed them on a paper plate and heated them up. Next, on went the onions and ketchup & mustard. Placed my chips next to my hotdogs, and admired my handiwork.

With great expectations, I grabbed the first hotdog and took a bite!

The next few seconds events are burned into my brain and will never be forgotten.

As my teeth severed the natural casing of the hotdog, hot SOUR juices squirted down my throat!!! This was unexpected for two reasons...1) hotdogs don't "squirt"!
and 2) nothing should have been sour!!!

My mind whirled with possibilities, were they spoiled?
I didn't think that possible as they must have been purchased the day before...
Were the condiments bad? 

But my rational brain was not in charge at the moment!!!

My stomach heaved, gag reflex kicked in as my brain screamed "GET IT OUT!!!"

Luckily there was a garbage can nearby and I spit the mouthful of offending crap into it and dry heaved over it...when finally my body quit trying to hack up my shoes, I rinsed my mouth with some good old fashioned coca-cola to get that taste out of my mouth!

I picked up both dogs to toss them out, and as I was putting them in the trash I caught a whiff of pickles....
I didn't have pickles on my dogs! I brought the bitten dog tentatively to my nose and gently sniffed...not really wanting to smell rancid meat, but confused...that was definitely dill pickle smell!!!

Realization struck me like a hammer!!!

Pickled bologna!!! Instead of a ring, the butcher had made them into links....links that looked EXACTLY like hotdogs!!!!  I'll be damned...

Busted expectations!

We had a family get together one summer, somebodies birthday or maybe just a family cookout at my sister Anna's house. Her husband Pat was at the grill, and everyone brought a dish to pass...to avoid duplication, we all told everyone what we were bringing.

My sister Brenda and her new husband Tom arrived with a big plate of Deviled Eggs. I LOVE deviled eggs!!!
Ask anyone that knows me...I'll tear me up some deviled eggs!!! Hahaha.

Burgers and dogs were not quite done, but soon, so we started opening things up so everyone could come through the line buffet style...

Not being able to help myself in such close proximity to the deviled eggs, I swiped one and popped it into my mouth.

And things went horribly wrong!!! I had expected deviled eggs...you know, very simple...egg yolk, mayo, yellow mustard garnished with a little paprika.

That was NOT what was in my mouth...again reptile brain kicked in "Get it out!". No waste receptacle handy I spit it out into my hand....yuck!!!

I spun on Brenda "What the HELL did you do to those deviled eggs?!?"

"Oh, Tom likes them with Dijon mustard and sweet relish...I thought I'd mix things up a little".

"Well," I said cleaning my hand off with a napkin, "I hope Tom's hungry, cause nobody else is going to eat that shit..."

And they didn't...their expectations were busted as well.

Yes, I reacted badly and behaved poorly. I'm not proud.

As humans we can set our selves up for this, so easily.
We preconceive what will happen, what something will taste like, how someone will react...and when those expectations are not met we are confused...and often angry. Because it challenges our worldview, our knowledge of how the world is!

Had I known ahead of time that they had not been made to the traditional recipe, I'd certainly have been open to trying them. But the difference between what I expected and the reality set me up to instantly hate them!

Here's hoping all your expectations are cheerfully met!

Be Well Folks!

Beastly Bear

Clearly, I didn't think this through...

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

It's true...I didn't think this whole "going in to work for 12 hours every day" this week thing through!!!

If only I worked days, this would not be a problem.

Or if I lived closer to work.

But, on second shift going in 4hours early means leaving the house at 10am to be there to start at 11.

Then I get out at 11, and don't get home til midnight.

My usual, is up til 3-4 before going to bed...then up by 10. You see my problem here? Lol

Now while I don't really "slave" over these missives, I do try my best to make them cohesive and relatable.

Oft times what I thinks in my head, doesn't make it to the page! Lol

So I write, read, repair, read, rewrite, reword, reread,

publish, find another mistake, edit, *heavy sigh* and THEN share!

So depending on my inspiration, interruptions, and initial accuracy...it takes a couple hours to pen one of these. 

I find I'm really enjoying these...and not being able to get one down, will put me in a "funk".

So I'm gonna try folks, to get these out! 

They may be late (like this is Mondays), and brief sometimes...but things should be back to normal Saturday!

So "Bear" with me...cause clearly I didn't think this through!

Be Well!

Beastly Bear

Consequences 3

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

So, the chain so far is thus: as a consequence of flirting with the wrong woman I ended up in a cast.
As a consequence of having a cast, on my way to the doctor I was involved in a car accident.
As a consequence of the car accident...

The headache never went away.

It was a constant mind numbing pain that became the background of my life. I mean the kind of headache that under normal circumstances would send you to go lay down until it went away.

Then two or three times a week I got "the spike".
It started by a sudden light headedness before the debilitating feeling of someone driving a red hot spike through my temples. A pain so great it caused nausea, sensitivity to light, sound, and odor!

The only cure was to vomit, and go lay in a dark room, with the gentle whir of a fan blocking out any noise.
4 hours of sleep and I was "functional" again.

I ended up missing more time from school than I was there. I tried to make it into work as much as possible as I still owed money on my wrecked car, bought with a $1000 personal loan from the credit union. Only had PL/PD insurance on it so I could afford to drive. 

This changed me...
My normal happy go lucky  Dr. Jekyll attitude was being suppressed a Mr. Hyde type. Short tempered, angry and combative.

There were other changes as well...my much vaunted memory was failing me. School had always been almost too easy...I could listen to the teacher lecture on a subject, take minimal notes highlighting the core information, and take a test a couple weeks later and not score under a B+ without looking at my notes again!

Now...reading, by the time I got to the end of a paragraph, I'd have to start over having forgotten what I'd read. I had to drop out of our next play (in which I again had the lead) because I couldn't learn the lines... This had NEVER happened to me before!

But the scariest incident happened as I was leaving work one night. As we left, and I got in my car...it suddenly occurred to me I didn't know how to get home. Imagine that if you will...
I knew WHERE I lived, and I knew where I WAS, but how to get from one to the other???? Nothing!
I started to panic, how was this possible?!?

I tried relaxing, clearing my mind...nothing!
I tried to think in reverse, how do I get from home to here? Nothing!
Pre cellphone era I was literally trapped by indecision!
My final solution was to start driving until I saw familiar things. I knew the general direction from where I was...so that's the way I headed. After a couple wrong turns that didn't feel "right", I found my way home.

During this whole time I saw a bevy of Doctors. Our family Dr. was at a loss. I ran the gamut of tests. X-rays, EEG, EKG, CAT scans, Spinal tap to check for meningitis...nothing. Next, finding nothing physically wrong...it must be in my head right? Psychologists and Psychiatrists followed...with one positing the theory of PTSD because I hit a bus full of kids. ASSHOLE!
If he didn't listen any better than that...he was probably a pretty crappy Psychiatrist!!! The bus was empty AND she pulled in front of ME! I had zero guilt associated with the accident. The others found though mildly depressed I was normal. Well who wouldn't be depressed if your head felt like it was going to explode 24/7?!?

The final straw...and only a very few people know this.
After a fight with my sister, where something very minor she had done, on purpose to bother me had set me off, I lost it! Complete mental breakdown! I beat my sister with a rolled up magazine to it's destruction!
In hysterics I got in my car (a '70 Dodge Dart we'd bought for $50 from a guy my mom worked with) and left. In my pain ravaged and hysterical state, where no one believed there was really anything wrong with me. The solution came to me that a car accident caused this, a car accident would end it!!! I got on M-59 and opened her up...going 120mph (the most I could get out of her) running red lights...I would end my life!
Twenty miles I went...when it occurred to me that I might be doing to someone else what was done to me, I stopped. Still sobbing uncontrollably, I found a payphone and called home. My sister was fine, though shaken...my Mother and her boyfriend talked me into coming home. It took hours to calm me down enough to allow me to get some sleep.

Suddenly they started taking my problem seriously.

Finally I ended up at the Michigan Head Pain and Neurological Institute under the care of Dr. Joel Saper.
I'll spare the long and short. Diagnosis was the portion of my brain which regulated blood vessel dilation was damaged in what we now call a "closed head injury". So any time I got angry, scared, happy, or excited adrenaline would constrict my blood vessels, and raise my blood pressure to a dangerous level in the classic "fight or flight" response. With no way to relax them again my brain started getting oxygen starved, causing nausea, pain and memory loss. I started getting a "spike" while at Dr. Sapers and my BP was recorded at 220/170! 

It was decided I needed immediate inpatient treatment, at Chelsea Community Hospital near Ann Arbor, MI.
A six week stint while they tried different drug cocktails to get me relief. While I was in I only had two visitors that were not family. An ex girlfriend and my good buddy Ed Musiel (who I'm still proud to call my friend to this day).

Finally upon my release I was back to myself, thanks to a daily cocktail of powerful drugs. I would still get an occasional "spike" but had a separate fast acting drug to help counteract that. Eventually the problem would "self correct" they told me, but it may take years. I was on that cocktail for 3 years. And to this day need BP medication.

Most of the time from the accident to leaving the hospital is a blur to me with a few incidents standing out...

My Senior year of High school went normally. I managed passing grades in 3 of my 7 classes from the second semester of my Junior year, taking an "incomplete" in three others, but my Chemistry teacher (that Really disliked me) was having none of it and gave me an "F", the only failing grade I ever received...just for spite. Seems he thought if I could pass other classes, I ought to have been able to pass his.

When I graduated in June (I'd have had the credits to graduate early had it not been for the accident) I attempted to enlist, per "the plan". 

Only to be rejected on Medical grounds. Not only would they not accept me because of the drugs I was on, but a report from a Neuropsychologist suggested another severe blow to the head could be catastrophic and possibly fatal. The military wouldn't touch me with a ten foot pole!!!

Not having the grades for a scholarship, or the money for college I went full time at the sporting goods store.
Thinking I could take classes part time, and somehow salvage the plan. Though my outbursts and attempted suicide while sick would have likely kept me out of both services.

Unfortunately rotating days off made it impossible to take classes, and I needed to work full time to help my Mother keep her house as she had divorced my step dad and need my help, so part time was out of the question.

When the store closed, I sold advertising for a while.
Yuck!

Finally I settled on a new plan...I learned to drive a truck, figuring I could make enough to take some college classes AND help mom. Bounced around a couple jobs before I landed at Perry Drugs, still unable to take classes as I couldn't plan anything! Not a 9 to 5 job, you left with a full truck and you weren't done until it was empty!!!

There I met the woman that would become Mama bear, and married her. We had Princess Bear.

After 11 years there, my wife's cousin Paige told us that for the first time in their history GM would be hiring "outside" drivers. I jumped at the chance to almost double my wages, and halve my workload!

9 months after GM hired me they sold the division to Penske! I worked for them for 18 months until our contract was up. Penske started talking cutting wages...and they offered us a chance to go back to GM.
It meant working in a plant, but I figured trucking companies come and go, in a hundred years there would be a GM...would there be a Penske?

So the one thing I told my High school self I'd NEVER do...is exactly what I'm doing.

One little bad decision...had such consequences.

Hope your decisions turned out better than mine did!

Be Well!

Beastly Bear