Bill And Dave Are Dead

Bill And Dave Are Dead - new website

2006-11-13T18:44:00.000-08:00

Bill And Dave Are Dead has moved to a new website location. This site will continue to serve as a mirror/backup for now but for future reference the new web address is:

http://billanddave.wordpress.com/

I'm still getting used to the new site over at Wordpress and getting things tweaked proper so it might be a few days before I'm back to regular updating. No worries though, lots of stuff is in the pipeline so stay tuned...

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*update 12.13.06*
Things over at the Wordpress version of Bill And Dave Are Dead have been going well since making the move. Thanks to those of you who have updated their blog links to point to the new site. I was considering back-posting the new stuff here, but I'm thinking this will remain only as an archive instead. Drop by the new site if you haven't already and check it out.

*update 12.29.06*
Well, hope you all had a good holiday season. I just got back from visiting relatives after a two week trip. Had a pretty good time with them, this was the first Christmas in the last couple of years that started to feel like something special again, like it meant something. Much needed change at long last. New Year's Eve is going to be a real bash for me this time around and 2006 was a pretty good to me. Hope most of you folks out there can say the same thing when '06 is over with this Sunday night.

Wordpress has been great to work with for Bill And Dave Are Dead. During the switch a while back everything was transferred to the new website with the exception of photographs. For some reason the Wordpress scraping tool didn't grab them. It only took a hotlink back to Blogspot here and after a couple of days they disappeared from view. Spent some time today manually moving the shots, resizing them for the new layout, plus added many more new ones. Additional stuff is on the way.

Be cool and have a good 2007.

Defective Instrument Covers

2006-11-10T14:20:00.000-08:00

During this past summer after B-rad and Garden Gnome were kicked out due to a vicious round of employee layoffs, I began to notice something strange happening with our outer instrument covers. Many of them wouldn't fit properly on instrument chassis anymore. The outer protective instrument cover is made of aluminum sheet metal and riveted along a seam on the bottom side. Once they're fabricated the covers are shot with a light grey paint. Until recently all of our sheet metal work was being produced by American companies many of which were located within a few hours drive of our factories. That meant shipments were usually prompt. If we discovered any defects or problems we could have rework performed by these metal shops sometimes with a same-day turnaround time. Things were going well enough with sheet metal parts until the offshoring bug caught on with our corporate management team.

Management killed off business with established local metal shop companies and shifted the work to Penang, Malaysia claiming it was significantly cheaper to send that work halfway around the world. I am not sure they factored in operational costs like air freight, customs, truck delivery, etc. They were looking at bottom line dollars which turned out to be exactly $18 per instrument cover less than having them built in the U.S. After adding in shipment costs though I'm certain that cheaper price from Malaysia probably wasn't as great a savings.

So. The Malay take over producing these parts. Meanwhile a former company performing this work for us located just an hour and a half drive North of here in Willits, Ca. loses our business and starts to lay their people off. Weeks later I begin to receive new stock from the Malaysian metal shop and guess what? Most of those outer covers don't fit on our instruments. They just don't fit. To install one, you rotate a unit on it's cart until the front panel is facing toward the floor and you load the cover on from the instrument's rear panel. Normally an outer cover should slide easily over the whole box and fit snugly against the front panel frame. With these new covers you're lucky if you can make it halfway on a unit before it seizes along the instrument chassis. Some of them have been stuck so badly I've had to cut them off with heavy tin snips.

Initially I wasn't sure the outer covers were the problem. Possibly there was something wrong with a batch of instrument chassis. To rule that out I had to involve some of our mechanical engineers and waste their time getting to the root cause.

All of our Quality Assurance people have been laid off so there are no more incoming inspections performed on parts as they arrive from vendors. That means we don't find out that there is a problem until new stock is on the line being used to make end of month shipments. Then it's too late. I've had to scrap out nearly 50% of incoming instrument covers not only because the mechanical dimensions are out of spec and hence don't fit properly on units, there's a bunch of other stupid shit causing problems with them. Since I am the only person inspecting this stuff when it shows up I am the first and only employee opening each case of covers. So far I have discovered brand new outer covers inside cases that have been completely dented to hell, deep scratches in the paint, incomplete paint jobs, and covers that were formed backwards so the rivets are on the inside instead of outside where they belong. Occasionally as a bonus when opening cases of covers I get crushed jungle lizards and strange looking tropical insects.

American-built covers were nearly always within spec and generally, cosmetically perfect.

Reworking these parts instead of scrapping them is not an option. The time it would take to repackage them and ship them all the way back to Malaysia is too great. Also there is no guarantee they would be able to turn them around and re-ship them back here in a reasonable amount of time. The Malay already have a very long lead time for sending us brand new instrument covers. Scrapping them takes each part out of active inventory and triggers another order for outer covers automatically. This is more expedient so that's what we do. Keep in mind that with every instrument cover I ditch, the per unit cost goes up. Dealing with this crap wastes a considerable amount of my time every damn day which impacts my ability to meet customer order deadlines. Believe me, this isn't the only stupid fucking problem I've got on my hands right now thanks to all this offshoring and subcontract bullshit.

Factory Peasant vs. Miss Auschwitz: Round Two

2006-11-10T13:40:00.000-08:00

Got word from Big Dog today that Miss Auschwitz poked her nose into the Ergo Lift situation. I am unsure what provoked this or how she heard about our area trying to ditch the lift here when we leave. She must still come out here sneaky like to snoop around. Apparently she has discovered that I don't want it coming along for the ride to the other site location. She is going to force us to ship the Ergo lift machine up there by claiming some kind of safety violation if we aren't operating it on a daily basis. Big Dog was unhappy about this because he doesn't want the Ergo lift taking up available space in the back of a Bekins truck and he is well aware we don't have room for it on the shop floor. Plus he's already got a ton of more important things to be worrying about instead of this stupidity. It's especially frustrating because we know that machine is pure dead weight.

Miss Auschwitz is definitely still angry over the beat down I served her concerning those two storage racks a couple months ago. She is craving revenge. Figures. I mean, I knew this was going to happen eventually but I did not foresee her throwing a wrench at me again for quite a long while. Miss Auschwitz just doesn't learn. Like a bad skin rash, she keeps coming back. Guess I underestimated her a little bit on that one. Not sure how I am going to deal with Miss Auschwitz this time. Have to give it some careful thought to come up with a decent method of thwarting her again. Hopefully I can shut her down and burn Miss Auschwitz worse than last time, killing two birds with one stone. Perhaps for the time being I will play along with her bullshit and let Miss Auschwitz think she's left me with no options. Miss Auschwitz can think to herself that the Ergo lift will be back in use when we move.

Well, here we go again...

Ergo Lift

2006-11-08T13:46:00.000-08:00

Most of us are jettisoning excess equipment and gear in preparation for moving out of this facility. With only a few weeks left to get ready for relocating, things have taken on a greater sense of urgency. There are a few items I would like to somehow accommodate for in my floor plan but no matter how creative I am with it there just isn't enough free square footage. I do happen to have one large item I am entirely looking forward to abandoning though. It makes me smile just thinking about it.

It's the damned Ergo lift. That eyesore is such a useless hunk of garbage.

B-rad told me a story about that junk pile. The engineer who invented it from scratch apparently spent months coming up with the design. Built out of sturdy aluminum beams, thick black acrylic plates, and operated by pneumatic actuators; the Ergo lift turned out to be as useful as a bucket full of holes. Heavy white plastic air hoses weaved in and out of the lift's frame as if someone had thrown a handful of limp spaghetti at it. Standing over seven feet tall that goofy piece of machinery looked like a cross between an Erector Set on steroids and a Borg drone.

Engineers who work in the Ergonomics department frequently go way overboard designing elaborate overkill solutions to problems a little common sense would easily take care of. This case was no different. The initial problem arose from employees who complained they had difficulty being able to physically lift an eighty five pound instrument off of a cart and place it onto a small rolling table for shipment.

Instead of training employees to use what I refer to as a "leveraged lift" where you simply use the weight of the instrument to safely pivot it off a cart and on to a table, someone whined to the Ergo department. Then it became a big deal. The engineer assigned to investigate and produce a fix for this issue wasted tons of time and money in my opinion. Eventually, he built a dangerous contraption that nobody wanted to use. The Ergo lift is unstable when it has any weight placed on it's work surface. When an assembler activated controls to raise or lower the platform it seemed slow to respond, quickly bogged down, and upon stopping the lift surface it would bounce a few times before completely coming to rest. It freaked out female employees in particular. So the Ergo lift was pushed aside and left to collect dust.

One afternoon when that dunce of an engineer walked by our area he noticed we weren't using his precious mechanical abomination. He questioned us about why it wasn't in operation. Somebody explained to him that using it was risky and that it didn't work properly. Rather than offer to redesign the lift or at the very least attempt to inspect it for defects, the jerk blew his stack. He threatened to have employees fired if we refused to operate it. I don't think he cared for a second that someone might get themselves hurt using it. That wasn't his concern. His ego was bruised so he lashed out. Also, if word got back to the Ergonomics department that his equipment had turned out to be less than satisfactory he might end up in some kind of trouble. To cover his ass he wanted to force us into compliance. His temper tantrum caused a further backlash and hardened employees' resolve to not use the lift. No one was fired though and for the past year or so I haven't seen a single person operate it.

I'm leaving that shit heap behind when we move out. I hope maintenance workers drag the Ergo lift to the recycling center where it will meet a grisly death, parted out and crushed for scrap metal.

Giving Up

2006-11-07T20:42:00.000-08:00

Talk about getting nowhere fast. I've been running around in circles for nearly six months investigating our military orders coming from overseas. No one working for US Government agencies that I contacted has given me a straight answer concerning whether or not we are allowed under federal law to assemble and test US military orders in Malaysia. Complicating matters further, the company website that hosts all of our GSA contracts with the Government hasn't been updated since August. Most of those GSA contracts expired during the month of August and without current versions I have no idea if Malaysia has been cleared for military work or not. Existing documents don't mention Malaysia at all and Singapore is still the only approved site in Asia for sensitive customer orders.

I have successfully spied for months on our Malaysia instrument production remotely thanks to a few Stateside employees who gave me their database account logins. I can say with certainty that we are in fact building and testing many US military orders in the Malay division far in excess of an alleged 49% limit on manufacturing imposed there. The remaining 51% of each instrument must be completed in Singapore. What actually happens is nearly 100% of every box we produce in Asia is manufactured in Malaysia. Then it is shipped to Singapore where workers there alter instrument serial numbers to make them look like they are Singapore-built units. I'm convinced we are breaking the law but without a proper legal framework or documentation stating what the law actually is, I have no grounds to make an accusation against this company.

My experiences with US Government employees regarding this issue have been totally negative. None of them had any worthwhile information to provide me with or showed any interest. It has been a real eye-opener for me as to how dysfunctional and broken the Government appears to be. I'm amazed anything gets done at all in this country with clowns like that running things. At this point since none of those Government employees give a shit about military rated orders being produced in a country that should be off-limits I guess I won't give a shit about it either. Fuck it. I'm tired of wasting my time trying to do something about it.

Master Of Floor Space

2006-10-31T10:46:00.000-08:00

Big Dog and I went over a proposed floor layout for our department. We're moving across the county to one of our older factory sites. It's a little confusing because we currently are located in building 2 Lower here and this move will dump us in building 2 Lower over there. Does that make any sense? Probably not. Anyway in our current location we have more square footage than we could ever possibly use. It's been a luxury to spread out and get some distance between us. At the new spot it looks like they're trying to cram us into the smallest amount of space imaginable. It's not going to work well for us. Big Dog has already raised a number of important issues with management concerning this lack of available factory real estate but each time they send him away without listening to him. We realize it's going to be a tight fit.

Each product line or department in this company is treated like it's own little individual business. We have to pay the company every month for our electricity, phone bill, rent, etc. The rent is based on a fixed rate per square foot. Since things are financially in a downward spiral nobody wants to pay much for expenses if they can somehow get away with it. So that's what is driving this mad dash to consolidate us into a tiny allocation of floor space. Less square feet for our department means cheaper rent. Corporate is also in a rush to close as many US manufacturing sites as possible to sell them for quick revenue. Can you say "Shareholder Value?" Super Geek sure can!

I've had to make some concessions in order for MI/EI to work. Big Dog asked me to give up some equipment. Instead of moving six technical workbenches I am going to abandon two of them here along with some office furniture and shelving. The other thing I just don't have any room or use for is that damned pneumatic Ergo Lift piece of shit. That dangerous eyesore is going to be ditched here as well. I am not being given enough room anyway. I'm the only person currently working in the Button Up area so why in the hell would I need six workbenches for one employee? B-Rad is supposedly coming back soon as a temporary worker which is great news. That will take up one more bench and give us some desperately needed help.

A potentially serious problem with our new area is the floor tiles in that building are electrically hot. Real hot. We measured it for static electricity and resistance recently, and those tiles are poison for sensitive electronic devices. Even with a coating of special wax that is supposed to help electrically ground the tiles and dampen static discharges our test data shows it's far out of tolerance. In order to stay in compliance with our internal company ESD policy and meet ISO:9000 requirements we must do something to find a solution. Ripping out the floor tiles to expose bare concrete would greatly reduce electrical resistance and static charge buildup. Nobody with management authority wants to take on the cost and pay a construction crew to do the work though. Typical.

Planning A Move

2006-10-25T22:06:00.000-07:00

Looks like this place is dust just like the rumors said it would be. In a few weeks we will be relocating our entire manufacturing division to another site in the county. Our home base here will be vacated and put up for sale. The Bossman has elected me to prepare all of MI/EI's equipment for the move and come up with a floorplan for my area to use at the other factory location. A decent floorplan layout won't be too difficult. Actually I'm more concerned about securing all of my gear and packing the workbenches to load them on trucks. Every move I've been through here has been a serious pain in the ass. Usually the hassles that erupt during a site to site move are caused by our own idiot employees. They fail to properly label or mark where items are supposed to go, who they belong to etc. So shit goes missing. Or they don't pack critical items securely enough and then stuff inevitably is damaged.

I have six technical workbenches, three test stations, and a variety of random equipment and office furniture to concern myself with. That's nothing compared to what the folks up in assembly or over in forward flow test are going to have to handle.

In theory relocating an instrument line should be straightforward and simple. The floorplan is created with each individual test system and workbench being assigned a corresponding number. Everything is labeled according to the floorplan layout prior to leaving on trucks. We pack our equipment and then professional movers come in to haul it all away. They use the floorplan numbers to properly drop our stuff in right spots at the other factory. Once that is accomplished we arrive shortly afterward and begin the process of unpacking equipment and firing up all our test systems.

Never seems to work out that way.

Big Dog has been tapped on the shoulder by the boss to be the floorplan master. I have to hang out with him to see how many square feet of real estate at the other site I'm being given to work with. He's been real busy lately so I don't know when he might have some free time to sit down with me and yap about it. Should be cool, we get along well together. I don't expect any weirdness or headaches from dealing with him. I'm sure there will be plenty of other oddball junk issues that will mess everything up though before we're finished.

Crossdressing Halloween Horrors

2006-10-24T10:58:00.000-07:00

Last year Greasy Guy showed up to work on Halloween dressed as what he called a "Female Soviet Wrestler." He wandered around all four buildings in the factory showing himself off. As I recall, coworkers warned me when I started my shift that afternoon so I was ready. When Greasy Guy finally located me in the chamber area dealing with a test system that had completely barfed he hovered off my left shoulder until I acknowledged his presence. He had a big shit eating grin on his face and the only thing I said to him was "Get the fuck away from me."

This year has been far more horrible. Greasy Guy ratcheted the eye-burning nightmare up a few notches by coming in to work dressed as Little Bo Peep. Ugh.

Some of us here are considering if there is an underlying personal problem, maybe this is a kind of cry for help from Greasy Guy. Crossdressing on Halloween once can be overlooked but doing it two years in a row is starting to make us wonder. Perhaps there is more crossdressing going on at home? Employees are speculating this is the case.

I've seen some terrible crossdressing costumes over the years here on the job at Halloween. Probably one of the all time worst was when Mr. Fussy appeared walking the hallways at work dressed in a sexy French maid outfit complete with spiked high heels and fishnet stockings. Just thinking about that mental image still makes me cringe. I enjoy spreading the hate. Every once in a while I will describe Mr. Fussy's French maid costume to fellow employees who knew him while they have a mouthful of food at lunchtime and watch them promptly spit up their grub. It never fails.

Halfshirt's Revenge

2006-10-23T13:10:00.000-07:00

Assembly fell behind schedule again. It's no surprise. With all the outsourcing and subcontract vendors involved we have nearly zero direct control over manufacturing our instruments anymore. Usually what happens is one or more outside companies we depend on either can't get their act together to ship us parts on time or they send us damaged goods. Something was put together with the wrong mechanical tolerances, critical hardware is missing, or maybe the stuff just shows up completely broken. While we're waiting for good replacements to arrive our entire area is effectively shut down. Slow periods might last a few days to a couple of weeks. As soon as fresh parts and supplies get here we have to work like insane animals to catch up to schedule. Overtime goes through the roof. Things are a mess here doing business this way.

Volunteering to help out the assembly folks I spent the majority of my time during the past week working in their area dropping microcircuit decks and PC boards into instrument chassis. The work is relatively straightforward and easy for me. A whole unit can be loaded and cabled up in a little over an hour or so. One of the other guys who frequently doubles as an assembler when things are slammed in assembly is EH. He's probably the most experienced instrument builder we have left but his actual full time forty hour a week job is in another aspect of our department. On Friday afternoon both of us were knocking out chassis after chassis bullshitting about random subjects when we started talking about Halfshirt. EH mentioned something that really got my attention.

"I can probably get away with telling you this now since it was months ago, but you lost your job in the last round of layoffs."
"Huh? You're shittin' me." I said.
EH explained, "Halfshirt was bitter about losing his job. Because Halfshirt was angry he made up his mind to try and wreck the department by getting rid of everyone in production. He eliminated everybody except for his personal butt snorkel, James. He was trying to protect that kiss ass by sparing him from job cuts. When other supervisors realized what Halfshirt was doing they confronted him. Instead of keeping James they threw him out and saved you. The Bossman told Halfshirt he had no say in the matter so there was nothing he could do about it."

Wow. I had no idea at all that had taken place. Nobody said anything about it to me so I was completely unaware until now. EH and I both had a good laugh over James getting the boot. That guy really was a fuckup. So is Halfshirt for that matter. I can only hope Halfshirt was extra pissed off that I survived and kept my job here despite his efforts to ditch me. What I don't understand though is why a few other key employees weren't spared. If other managers were able to override Halfshirt's decisions why wasn't B-Rad shielded from the axe? He should have been. They need him here badly. And why in the world would they allow a supervisor who himself had been thrown out to make critical staffing decisions? That didn't make much sense to me.

Hang 'Em High

2006-10-19T11:19:00.000-07:00

Give someone enough rope, they might be able to hang themselves with it.

I handed Miss Auschwitz a whole heap of rope. Yes sir.

The Bossman gave me the word today when I rolled in that Miss Auschwitz had re-tested our instrument storage racks this morning. A representative of OSHA was present, I believe. Eagerly anticipating the outcome from her results I couldn't wait to hear what the verdict was. According to the boss those racks are well within safe ergonomic physical limits. After measuring the force required to slide a heavy instrument across the surface of a rack she ended up with totally different data compared to her first evaluation some years ago. Nothing has changed in that time. It's laughable how far off the data is between both tests she conducted. Miss Auschwitz mentioned to my supervisor how *surprised* she was to discover such a low amount of resistance. That means hardly any physical strain would be experienced by an employee shoving or pulling a unit over a storage rack.

Keep in mind her first evaluation test results showed the exact opposite data and was the basis for letting an employee go with a hefty disability settlement.

I have triumphed over evil once again. Miss Auschwitz has been served a humiliating defeat. Not only will she have to abandon hassling me about those storage racks but she will also have to answer to the Bossman and some other interested individuals concerning her work. Honestly I would not want to be in her shoes right now. Unfortunately I don't think she will be fired over this incident although in my opinion she probably has earned getting canned. Things won't be very comfortable for Miss Auschwitz for a while that's certain. I'm entirely amused and don't feel a bit sorry for her. Due to her vindictive, caustic nature I have a hunch this won't be the last time I run up against Miss Auschwitz. She is going to remember this episode and carry a grudge against me. She's mad as hell right now. I can sense it. All I have to do is be aware of that fact and stay a couple steps ahead of her...

Final score at the end of round one game time: Factory Peasant- 1 Miss Auschwitz- 0.

Factory Peasant Instrument Delivery Service

2006-10-16T12:53:00.000-07:00

There was something about this incident with Miss Auschwitz that didn't make much sense. Why was a full time Ergonomics department employee all of a sudden delivering and picking up broken instruments for our In-house repair group? She shouldn't have anything to do with In-house repair unless someone dropped an eighty five pound instrument on their foot or something dumb like that. I barely knew one of the technicians over there but I decided to give him a call and do a little investigative digging. I was curious about Miss Auschwitz showing up on our line since I had not seen her anywhere on site in years.

In-house repair functions primarily as a one stop do it all fix-it shop for most pieces of test and measurement equipment we manufacture. Their technicians have to be able to work on a wide variety of product families instead of specializing in one kind of instrument like most techs here. If the In-house repair department is unable to service an instrument for whatever reasons it will then be sent out to a product's original line. Each instrument line has hundreds of units installed in racks for their test processes and they have to maintain calibrated spares of each piece of gear just in case something prematurely fries itself. Even if an individual box doesn't crap out, there is a mandatory once a year re-calibration that has to be performed. The In-house repair group facilitates all of this for every product line and more. It's a huge work load. Those guys also come out to every line once a year with mobile test stations and re-calibrate most instruments on the spot. With a fully staffed technician group they were always trying to catch up to schedule. Now they're really hurting since most of their employees have been laid off.

Calling up the repair group I got Adolph on the phone. He's the tech guy I knew just a little bit from passing in hallways and from handling one or two special repair cases a long time ago. He seemed like a good person, talking with him was always a positive experience. I asked him about Miss Auschwitz.

"Hi Adolph, it's Factory Peasant down in Sources. Hey man, I have a quick question for you. Miss Auschwitz recently appeared on the line here dropping off broken Sig Gens from you guys. I thought she worked exclusively in Ergonomics handling safety issues. Why is she delivering busted units now?"

Adolph said, "We lost most of our staff during the layoffs. Both women we had running delivery and pickup of broken instruments are gone. There are only a few technicians left and we're buried in work so none of us have time to do that job anymore. Miss Auschwitz is here two or three days a week working part time at the front desk. She's on permanent loan to help us out with instrument delivery."

That sucks.

"Adolph, she's been causing trouble down here and I'd like to nip it in the bud. Tell you what. It would be faster if you guys call me directly when boxes come in for us to fix. I will volunteer to pick up and return units personally so I can keep Miss Auschwitz off of my line. The extra work to do that is worth it to me to get her out of here. All you have to do is call my extension each time you get a box for us and show me where your pick up and drop off points are."

"Are you sure you want to do that?" Adolph asked.
"Absolutely. If you have a few minutes why don't you come on over and walk me back up to your area. I'm located in Building 2 lower. Come through the main hallway from Building 1 and before you get to the Credit Union make a left in the aisle. Sources MI/EI will be on your immediate left. I'll keep an eye out for you."

Adolph said he was on the way and hung up. Not ten minutes later I saw Adolph walking down the aisle and I yelled to get his attention. Joining him, we headed out along the back of Building 1. As we were passing the shipping department Miss Auschwitz appeared from fucking nowhere like a well trained Viet Cong guerrilla. She went straight for Adolph and as soon as she was standing in front of him she began apologizing to him over and over again. I kept my mouth shut and just listened. From the gist of it, things sounded like Miss Auschwitz was being stupid in Adolph's group too and she had started a bad argument with Adolph over something entirely petty. Adolph's reaction to Miss Auschwitz incessant and over dramatic apologizing told me he wanted to end the conversation quickly.

When she finally left, Adolph cringed, looked at me with an unimpressed expression on his face and sighed. I said, "I know dude. I know. Miss Auschwitz causes fights with people everywhere she goes in this company. That's why I'm setting this up with you. I don't want her anywhere near Sources again if I can help it."

Once we arrived in Adolph's area he directed me to a set of metal storage shelves for instrument pick up and showed me where to drop off freshly repaired, calibrated boxes. I already was familiar with filling out their paperwork forms but I also needed to use a computer terminal located in front of their drop off point to log some items in. That was no problem. My main concern was making sure Miss Auschwitz never got to handle another one of our boxes in the future. I could expedite delivery on my own which would be good for In-house repair and allow us to avoid Miss Auschwitz like the plague that she is.

Hopefully.

Company Vendetta

2006-10-14T13:11:00.000-07:00

Two hours after I settled in at my workbench Miss Auschwitz arrived in Button Up with a delivery from the In-house repair department. She was dropping off another broken signal generator for us to fix and retest. As I anticipated, she glared at me and started babbling about those damned instrument racks. I told her to go have a talk with the Bossman, then to come back and see me. I said, "You and I are going to step outside. We're going to have a serious chat." Miss Auschwitz seemed a little confused about what was going on. Like an obedient robot she made a fast trip over to my boss' desk. I guess she was talking with him for about twenty minutes or so, then she reappeared next to my bench. Her face was suddenly pale white. She was nervous.

I stood up and walked her through our department outside behind Building 2. Pointing to a vacant picnic table I told her to have a seat. It was a beautiful late afternoon with clear skies and no wind at all. Sunset was still hours away. I chose to sit facing a mostly empty parking lot so I could take in a better view of trees and the skyline at the edge of our site's property line. The view was almost perfect, except for being polluted by Miss Auschwitz annoying presence.

Much to my shock Miss Auschwitz actually apologized for arguing with me the other day. Then she started running her mouth at length giving me reasons why she decided to steal those Button Up instrument racks. I didn't care or want to hear it. Miss Auschwitz rambled on about her experience investigating a female employee's injury using those racks, assuming I was unaware anyone had been hurt in the area. I let Miss Auschwitz wear herself out talking and then I began the beat down.

I said, "You know what is interesting here? The person who supposedly was hurt happened to be a scrawny, short Asian girl. She hasn't worked here for over two years. All of a sudden you come down here and start squeaking about equipment that nobody has a problem with. Didn't it cross your mind that I'm not a four foot tall Asian girl? I'm six foot two and I weigh over 200 pounds. I don't have any physical problems sliding instruments on and off those racks in their trays. I can do it with little effort. That's part of your job as an Ergonomics Assessor, to keep in mind every person is different. What works for one person might not work for somebody else and vice versa. Right? I find it very strange you're trying to remove useful equipment based on someone else's on the job injury that has nothing to do with me. It's a totally different situation."

She didn't say anything.

"Okay. Now that you've talked to the Bossman I'm certain he told you before removing those instrument racks you're going to re-measure them first. That's fine with me. If they do prove to be unsafe and you pull them for good I want to make one thing very clear. You will find a replacement solution for me and you will make it happen quickly. I am the only person left working MI/EI now and I can't wait for you guys in the ergonomics department to come up with some expensive overkill solution seven or eight months from now. It has to be simple, effective, and low cost. I really hate it when Ergo engineers spend tens of thousands of dollars on elaborate solutions that don't work properly and nobody ends up using them anyway. That's a total waste of our company's money and it pisses me off."

Miss Auschwitz gave me the same old tired story I've heard year after year from various Ergo department employees about how important safe working practices are. It was like listening to a bad television re-run. She told me that our division still has some of the highest on the job injury rates in the entire company and she even threw in some statistics to try and prove her point. It went in one ear and right out the other. After making a series of angry comments that demonstrated to me how much contempt Miss Auschwitz has for Bill and Dave's company, she fell silent. Then she held up both her arms to show me her wrists and she said with a vengeful tone in her voice, "I'm not getting hurt for THIS company AGAIN."

Something unexpected hit me, it started to make sense. When she made that final comment it was like a piece of the puzzle fell into place. Miss Auschwitz had a private vendetta against Bill and Dave's company. She blamed the company for her carpal tunnel and she was going out of her way to willingly help employees file dubious or outright false work injury claims. That was her revenge. The whole scam hit me like a ton of bricks. With little to no oversight in the Ergonomics department Miss Auschwitz could easily alter work injury details on a case by case basis however she wanted. Why I hadn't thought of it before now was beyond me.

I didn't say much more to her after that and we both went back inside the building. I had diabolical plotting to do.

Systems Check

2006-10-12T12:15:00.000-07:00

Brawling with Miss Auschwitz is going to be a chore. She throws her brand of lousy attitude around anywhere she pleases. Most employees who have run afoul of her in the past are unaware Miss Auschwitz has very little actual authority over anyone working here. If they did figure out that she is a nobody, more people would probably kick her out of their production areas and not think twice about it. They also wouldn't have to put up with her verbally abusive comments. Instead the vast majority of employees go along with whatever it is she happens to be harassing them about just to get rid of her as fast as possible.

If I am going to successfully put Miss Auschwitz in her place I need backup. And that has to start with the Bossman.

Cruising past my supervisor's area I peeked over a cubicle wall to see if the Bossman was sitting at his desk. I spotted him busily typing away on his computer keyboard taking infrequent pauses between pecking at keys to write notes on a piece of paper. Navigating my way through abandoned cubicles I walked up to his desk and asked him if he had a few minutes to talk. He said yes. I sat down at the edge of his cubicle in an aisle and waited. When he finished typing, the Bossman turned in his chair to face me and asked what was up.

"I got a problem over in MI/EI. It's nothing serious. More of a personal aggravation than anything else. The other day when I came in to work someone had gone into Button Up and stole both our black roller instrument storage racks. Totally would have crippled me for the shift because I had nowhere to offload finished boxes. So I pulled two identical racks out of equipment mothball storage and set them up. Next day I hear someone from the Ergonomics department saw those two racks were back and went into a rage about it. Turns out my Ergo pest is Miss Auschwitz."

As soon as I spoke her name, the Bossman let out an angry grunt and threw his pen at his desk. He was not pleased at the news.

Continuing I said, "Miss Auschwitz lame ass explanation for removing those racks had something to do with a girl who used to work here. I don't remember the girl personally, but she isn't working here anymore and hasn't been for quite some time. I asked around about her on day shift and a few people told me she was hired in up at assembly. She claimed an on the job injury there so they moved her out of assembly to another job on the line. Then she complained about getting hurt in her new spot as well. Finally she was manage-moved to Button Up and the same thing happened again. This girl claimed another injury. She told Miss Auschwitz it was too difficult to slide instruments across those racks and it was hurting her back or some shit like that. From the sound of things most people think that girl was faking her injuries so she could get a lucrative disability settlement out of the company. Like I said I don't remember her but to be honest that's what it sounds like to me, too. I suspect Miss Auschwitz helped her file a bogus claim with OSHA."

The Bossman sat there and listened.

"I'm not having any physical problems at all moving instruments on and off those racks. I haven't complained to the Ergo department. I already told Miss Auschwitz I need the racks for storage and that I'm not having any issues using them. All she did was argue with me about it. What I want is for Miss Auschwitz to take a fucking hike and stay the hell out of the area. If she swipes those racks it's really going to impact the area, Boss. So I want to stop that nitwit broad in her tracks."

The Bossman said, "You know, that's a problem with many of our Ergo people. Their ears are closed. They come out to product lines telling employees what kinds of tools to use and they don't listen when things aren't working for an individual. Miss Auschwitz was injured on the job, right?"

I replied, "Yeah. Back in PCAC years ago she claimed getting carpal tunnel from using lead clippers and manual screwdrivers on hand load lines building circuitboards. I'm skeptical that her carpal tunnel in both wrists is for real."

"When you have a person that has been injured on the job they like to move them into the Ergonomic department because they'll be more understanding of other employee's work related injury situations. It's makes them more passionate about keeping others from getting hurt."

"That makes sense and all Boss, but Miss Auschwitz is just being a tyrant because she thinks she can get away with it. I want to stomp her guts out. Can you help me do that?"

The Bossman thought about it for a short while. Then he asked, "You mentioned Miss Auschwitz originally investigated an Ergo issue with those racks?"
I said, "That's what some folks told me. It was a couple years ago, I think."

With a slight smile on his face the Bossman looked at me and said, "Let's do a systems check."
"Huh? What's that?" I asked.

"A systems check. I'll give you an example. Occasionally I have to write feedback for my department manager's reviews. He never read any of my feedback comments for him and I knew it. What's the point of writing a review if nobody is going to read it? What I did was, I wrote that my boss wasn't paying attention and that he was a big jerk. When I sat down with him to go over his feedback he told me everything looked great in his review. So I knew he hadn't even looked at it. Then I told him maybe he better read the beginning of the third paragraph. After reading it, he got my point. That's a systems check."

I laughed out loud.

"So what I propose we do is, this. Let's force Miss Auschwitz to come out here with all her Ergonomic equipment and re-measure those racks. Let's force her to bring OSHA back into it. We'll see if her measurements are the same as last time... or not. If we're in tolerance for safety and physical limitations then Miss Auschwitz will have nowhere to go with it. And if there is a discrepancy with her test results but no real change in our setup then we will know she either falsified the results from her first tests or she's incompetent. That will leave Miss Auschwitz open to some very uncomfortable questions from myself and a few other managers."

Man, that was a kick ass plan. I had an evil grin on my face that caused my fangs to poke out.

I asked him, "If she comes back into the area later this week to fuck with me, is it cool if I just send her your way?"
He said, "Sure."

Heh.

You know, I really like working with my supervisor. I can appreciate the way he goes about solving problems around this place...

Miss Auschwitz

2006-10-12T11:31:00.000-07:00

Yesterday afternoon the guys on day shift told me about a weird woman who blazed through the area earlier and came unglued when she saw identical rolling storage racks sitting in MI/EI again. She asked for me by name. When told I wasn't in until five she angrily said she'd be back and then split. Nobody could tell me anything about who she was or why she was up in my shit all of a sudden over these two rack units.

A half hour later the mystery female showed up again. As soon as I saw her I knew this was going to be a real pain dealing with her. Standing in front of me with her stringy, unkept dirty blonde hair and crazy look in her eyes I recognized the woman immediately. It was our infamous ergonomic department Nazi, Miss Auschwitz. I can't stand talking to Miss Auschwitz much less having to look at the sight of her. She's positively annoying. I should have known she caused my storage racks to disappear.

Since the early 1990s when I first got a job with Bill and Dave's company I've observed Miss Auschwitz do little more than wander around in hallways trying to duck her work. She's a chronic time waster. Back in the PC board days I frequently saw her wandering around in a light blue ESD smock hanging out at coffee stations or bullshitting with other employees in break rooms. Seldom if ever was she to be found working in the component handload lines which is where she should have been. I suspect she hated production work. One way to escape production work is to feign an on the job injury of some kind and that's what Miss Auschwitz did. She conjured up a case of carpal tunnel in her wrists and was reassigned to the Ergonomic department. Over the years working in Ergo she has become a tyrant, known well in two separate manufacturing divisions as a pain in the ass and a problem employee. Nobody I know anywhere in the company likes her. In fact, if you even mention her by name eyes will start to roll back into people's skulls. It's that bad.

The thing I despise Miss Auschwitz the most for is her habit of coming into employee's work areas uninvited and stealing useful equipment citing vague or completely bogus injury hazards. It's almost always bullshit of course. She just enjoys being a total asshole to people. Years ago someone came in to Team Loser's assembly area and stole all our tall instrument carts when I was working there. My partner and I started having back and neck pain due to using shorter carts that were supposedly "safer" because they wouldn't tip over. We never had one of the tall ones tip over. Not once. Nobody asked us if we were okay with using shorter carts and I found out long afterward that the person responsible for screwing up our area was Miss Auschwitz. She was the one who arbitrarily decided to swipe our tooling. Bitch.

With a wide eyed crazy stressed out expression on her dumb face Miss Auschwitz started to lecture me about how unsafe those two storage racks are. She rambled on and on about employees who have previously been injured using them. Then she decreed that I can't use them. They've got to go. I began questioning her.

"Who was hurt and when? I haven't had any problems using these racks. It's actually real easy to slide heavy instruments on and off of the rollers. Who gave you permission to take equipment out of my area without informing me first?"

Miss Auschwitz didn't have valid answers. Instead, she came back at me yelling and as I expected our conversation quickly turned into a shouting match. I told her to stay the fuck out of my area and if she stole anything else I'd work through the management chain to have her busted. That didn't go over well with her. In response she threatened me with OSHA regulations and Ergo department rules which of course didn't make any sense. I laughed at her. Frustrated that I wasn't backing down Miss Auschwitz stormed out of the area saying she'd return soon.

Oh good. I finally get to go to war with Miss Auschwitz. Revenge for what she did to me and Gary years ago in Team Loser's area is long overdue. I'm going to make her look stupid to management if I can. I'm going to enjoy this immensely...

Round one of the Factory Peasant vs. Miss Auschwitz brawl is about to begin!

Disappearing Equipment

2006-10-10T13:11:00.000-07:00

Got an interesting surprise when I showed up today. Someone went through Button Up and removed two portable storage racks that are used for holding finished instruments. I'm real angry about this. Nobody on day shift seems to know who the responsible person is or why they removed the racks. I need them. After a unit is finished here in MI/EI it's placed on top of a black fiberglass tray and then I slide it on to one of those racks. Doesn't take much physical strength to push an eighty five pound unit over the rack. The following morning someone from shipping comes out to the line and slides each unit over to a cruiser table and then hauls them away. Each of these two special racks will hold about fifteen instruments. Now I've got nowhere to put any instruments when I'm done with them except for a few rolling tables. I can't use rolling tables for storing boxes that are ready to ship though. Those are for staging work in progress. Weak.

Fortunately, I have two identical rack units stashed elsewhere in the building. Since I really need those racks to do my job I went over to my secret equipment stash and pulled both racks out. I set them up exactly where the two missing ones were. Hopefully whoever stole my gear will see the racks magically back in place and freak out. In the meantime I'm asking around to try to locate the first two racks and find out why in the hell someone swiped them. Man, this place is so fucked up sometimes. You don't just go into other employee's work areas and take whatever you please. I wouldn't dare do that and not just because it's rude. It's also because someone might get injured if they don't have proper tooling or equipment available.

When I catch whoever did this crap I'm going to make sure they pay for their crimes.

Skeleton Crew

2006-10-09T14:29:00.000-07:00

Day shift has a little less than twenty people left. On swing shift there are only four or five of us now. It's weird walking through buildings where hundreds of people used to work and see nothing but empty floor space. Other areas had large groups of employees working in cubicle mazes doing who knows what. The cubicles are all still there, but no one occupies them anymore. It's as if everyone suddenly died from disease.

There are three main instrument product groups left in this division, Network Analyzers, Spectrum Analyzers, and Sources. All three product groups had a rather large amount of employees assigned to support production. Now they're a shadow of what they once were. Network only has a couple of technicians on swing shift. Same goes for SA. The only people I see walking in the hallways anymore at night are custodial staff and an occasional security guard. That's it.

B-Rad and Garden Gnome are gone. Their last day came and went already. I had a good time working with both of them while it lasted. Too bad I didn't get to hang out for a couple more months with that Garden Gnome character. God damn that guy is hilarious. B-Rad is funny as hell on his own but both of those guys kinda played off each other well. Made coming in to work fun again even if it only lasted for a few weeks.

Boozealler has been swept away by a recent wave of layoffs. I think he wanted to go, but I still feel awkward about the Bossman's comment after I approached him asking to keep Boozealler out of Button Up. I wasn't trying to get the man fired. I just wanted him out of my hair.

Yahoo Stock Forums

2006-10-09T13:05:00.000-07:00

Web surfing while on the job is no big deal here. Traditionally employees at Bill and Dave's company enjoy an unusual amount of personal freedom. Nobody is looking over your shoulder or breathing down your shirt collar to get more work out of you every minute of the day. We manage our own time and to a large degree self-direct our areas of production. You have to completely mess up stuff or abuse your on the job freedom before gaining the wary eye of superiors around this place. In the meantime as long as your work is completed on schedule you can pretty much hang out and do whatever you please.

There's one thing I just won't do from work though. I absolutely will not hit Yahoo's stock forums website. Disgruntled former and current employees of this company have been going berzerk on our stock page at Yahoo. Some of them have been leaking company sensitive information deliberately to try and embarrass management or at the very least to try to negatively influence our stock share price. Petty vengeance. A particularly interesting tidbit of company info that was leaked on the Yahoo website a while ago was a rumor that this manufacturing site would be closed soon. With a drastically reduced workforce it would make sense to shut down this factory and relocate survivors to another site in the area. Most of the time these posted rumors have proved to be based in truth which has angered managers over their public dissemination on Yahoo.

Right now it looks like that rumor was very accurate. We got the news this week that we will be moved in a few months to a sister division located nearby. Once vacated, this factory will be put up for sale.

Management has since been actively trying to identify the source of these leaks. They are watching our Yahoo stock forum and might be attempting to trace posts back to their authors. Here at work it would be relatively easy for site IT to tag Yahoo's website for hits and identify specific computers on campus. I don't even bother to look at Yahoo stocks from work anymore. I'll read posts from home but there's no way in hell I would write anything on there about what is going on at work unless I went to use an internet cafe computer or one at the public library. It's too dangerous.

The Superior Intellect

2006-10-09T12:25:00.000-07:00

I saw him walking through the building's main hallway for the first time today. It was him, I'm sure of it because the description of his physical features perfectly matched the way he looked. When some of our engineers told me about the guy at first I thought they were joking, just pulling my leg. Now I realize this whole time they were telling the truth.

This man is a highly respected engineer who I'm told happens to be a PhD and who also holds a number of technology patents for stuff he has invented in his spare time. By all accounts from his peers in engineering that I have spoken with about him, he truly is a bright individual. They nicknamed him "The Superior Intellect." It's a reference to Star Trek II: The Wrath Of Khan. It's due to the fact that this man not only looks very similar to Ricardo Montalban's character as Khan in the movie, it's also because like Khan the man has an arrogant attitude about his own levels of intelligence. Compared to all us lowly corporate wage slaves and factory peasants anyway.

I have to admit The Superior Intellect really does look like Khan. His hair is long and silver colored which he usually wears pulled back into a pony tail.

The Superior Intellect won't be working here for much longer. He got himself laid off. Apparently The Superior Intellect has spent a great deal of time training young, inexperienced engineers in our Malaysia divisions. From what I hear he is very critical of their abilities. In department meetings with management The Superior Intellect has been vocal about Malaysian employees lack of skill and schooling. A few months ago The Superior Intellect was in a coffee talk with hundreds of fellow employees. If I haven't mentioned it before now, a coffee talk is an informal meeting that any mid to upper level manager might hold with his department or a division to communicate general information and take questions. I think it's something Bill and Dave started long ago as a way to build closer ties with their workforce.

Anyway during this particular coffee talk The Superior Intellect shot his mouth off big time. He trashed management for shifting our work overseas to Malaysia and he openly criticized the workforce there as substandard. Well, many Malay were seated in the audience during his rant and naturally they took offense to it. As soon as that meeting was over some of the Malay got on the phone and called back to their division relating everything The Superior Intellect had said. When he returned to Malaysia for another tour of duty they were waiting for him.

Things were comfortable for The Superior Intellect in Malaysia. He had his own place and apparently he even had his own motorcycle to cruise around Penang with. Not long after his arrival some Malay destroyed his bike and left a threat letter at his residence. After contacting Malay authorities they quickly investigated The Superior Intellect's situation and came to the conclusion that they could not guarantee his safety in country. The police advised him to leave Malaysia as soon as possible.

Not long after coming back to the States, The Superior Intellect was informed he was to be let go. No doubt having to remove himself from Malaysia under such strange circumstances must have had something to do with that decision. Ironically for being such a smart man I'm surprised he didn't have enough common sense in his noggin to approach management privately with his opinions and concerns about ongoing production operations in Malaysia. Shooting off his mouth like that in front of dozens of Malay employees was entirely foolish. I mean what did he expect was going to happen after beating them down like that? Maybe The Superior Intellect has more in common with Khan than anyone realized.

Get Lost Already

2006-10-06T15:29:00.000-07:00

Enough is enough.

I've had it with that Boozealler guy. Last couple of weeks all he's been doing is occupy space and little else. I don't get it. He did such a great job helping me support environmental lab projects and running the chamber area while Greasy Guy was in Malaysia for three months. Now Boozealler is just a total dud. Maybe he's given up on this place, who knows. What I do know is I'm sick of dealing with his bullshit. Something snapped, I reached my threshold of tolerance for his lame attitude. Today I did something about it.

Walking over to where Boozealler was sitting once again I discovered he was studying real estate instead of working on instruments. His daily habit. Gritting my teeth I tried to keep my temper down while speaking to him in a civil manner.

"Boozealler. Do you have anything else you could be doing right now?"
Looking up at me with a slightly confused expression on his face he said, "Ummm. Yeah."
"Okay. Cool. Look man, I'm gonna be honest with you. It's obvious to everyone you just don't want to be here. You don't want to do this job at all so you're not interested in training on it. Whatever. I need the workbench you're using when I come in to start my shift and I don't want to wait around for you to leave. It slows me down and wastes time. So I'll tell you what. Let's make a deal here, okay? You don't want to be here and I don't want you to be here either. If you got better stuff to be doing just go with that from now on and don't even bother to worry about MI/EI anymore. I don't want to run this whole thing by myself but even if you're here it seems that's what I'm going to be doing anyway. If you bail out though at least I won't have to trip over you every day right? So what do you say? Fair deal?"

Boozealler thought about it for a half minute or so and his facial expression changed to one of relief. He seemed suddenly happy. He jumped at the chance to abandon working in Button Up. Boozealler said, "Sounds great!" After that he packed up some of his text books and headed off towards his cubicle with a grin on his face.

About an hour later I spotted the Bossman walking into the area past a row of EI test racks. I called out to him and asked if he had a minute to talk. Giving me a quick nod that he did I walked towards where he was standing in the aisle. By that time of the afternoon everyone had pretty much left for the day. No one was around. I told the Bossman that I talked to Boozealler and essentially asked him to keep out of Button Up from now on. He wasn't willing to learn the process or do any work at all. So, I said I cut a deal with him to stay away and I would cover the area by myself. What I wanted to know was, would that be cool with the Bossman? Maybe not.

The Bossman looked me in the eye and asked, "Do you realistically think you can handle it without another person?"
I said, "For now, yes. But later on when our orders increase... I'm not sure. I'll be very busy but I can probably stay on top of it."
He replied, "All right. Go for it. If you start to fall behind though talk to me. Let me know if things look like it's getting out of control. I can temporarily move someone else over to help out."

That sounded good to me.

Before leaving the Bossman said, "Someone just earned himself an extra spot on the next round of layoffs." Then he walked away.

Uh oh.

The Corpse Isn't Cold Yet

2006-10-05T13:11:00.000-07:00

This afternoon I arrived in the area to discover Boozealler hard at work for a change. He wasn't glued to a computer monitor intently reading real estate information nor did he have any of his school text books spread across his workbench. He was animated and enthusiastic, which was a surprise. Hand tools of various kinds were strewn about and miscellaneous bits of hardware were scattered over the bench. There wasn't a single instrument anywhere near where Boozealler was sitting. At the workbench next to him there was a large pile of metal shelving, ergonomic accessories, an overhead torque tool boom, and other junk. It completely covered the entire workbench so no one could use it until everything was relocated elsewhere. Curious.

Approaching Boozealler I pointed towards the heap of crap and asked him what was going on. Boozealler replied he didn't like the workbench layout of shelves and ergonomic tool locations. It was uncomfortable for him he said, so Boozealler took it upon himself to redesign everything to suit his personal needs by removing pieces of the workbench. Interesting. I guess it never crossed his mind that three other people need to share the station from time to time and maybe the way Boozealler has re-set it up might be uncomfortable for us. Apparently his physical well being while on the job is more important than we are so that makes it okay. Yeah. B-Rad sat at that particular workbench frequently. It was not exclusively Boozealler's to do with as he pleased.

B-Rad didn't say anything about it until a while later. When Boozealler stood up and walked out of the area for a few minutes B-Rad looked at me and said, "Man. The corpse isn't even cold yet. I'm still here and he's acting like I'm dead and gone already." B-Rad laughed about it but I got his point. I could tell he was annoyed. I was too. It bugged me because Boozealler was being insensitive to the fact that B-Rad wasn't going to be here for much longer. He could have waited until after B-Rad's last day at the least. That would have been tactful instead of rubbing in the fact that B-Rad was given the axe. Also, I was irritated because until someone spent time to pack up all that junk from the other work bench nobody could use it. So we were down one more available spot. I sure as hell wasn't going to clean up after Boozealler. Screw that noise.

Studying Real Estate

2006-10-04T16:44:00.000-07:00

B-Rad is an early dayshift kinda guy. He's out of here by two or three in the afternoon. Working swingshift I usually don't like to appear and perform until a couple of hours later. Usually around five. That isn't helpful for training purposes so I have been coming in to work around noon or one to spend a couple hours a day with B-Rad learning the Button Up processes. Boozealler is also supposed to be training with B-Rad for part of his shift. Instead of scheduling time to work alongside his most righteous instrument inspection mentor, Boozealler continues to evade any worthwhile training. When he does get stuck in the area he prefers to sit at one of the workbenches and read up on real estate laws. I guess he's taking classes at the local junior college to become a real estate agent. Looking over his shoulder at his computer screen I notice he's always got what appears to be online course material for real estate.

He's dumb.

First of all, we've already been through round after round of layoffs. With each layoff hundreds of employees have enrolled in school to become x-ray technicians, nurses, pharmacy technicians, and real estate agents. I read in the newspaper there are approximately 300 more real estate agents in the county now and they're all former employees of Bill and Dave's company. None of them noticed the real estate market was already over saturated with established real estate agents. Things haven't been very lucrative for the rookies in that arena to say the least. Boozealler is making a bad choice of career move in my humble opinion.

Second, we need him to pay attention to his job here. If he doesn't snap out of it soon the Bossman is probably going to take notice and trash him. It's inevitable. Losing B-Rad and Garden Gnome means I will be the last man standing in this area. I don't want to be left running the whole deal by myself. I need help to do this. Boozealler needs to get with it quick like or else.

Third, I'm getting sick of tripping over him every day when I come in to start work. When Boozealler is loafing around studying real estate course material at the only open workbench in Button Up I have to stand around waiting for him to vacate. Might be a couple of hours. I do try to test boxes or run paperwork while he's being lame but without an actual bench to rip open instruments at there isn't a whole bunch I can do. Boozealler is wasting my time. That makes me angry. I've already talked to him about this crap a couple of times but he keeps ignoring me. Boozealler is a dick.

Code Wars

2006-10-03T13:20:00.000-07:00

Simple manufacturing processes like sheet metal fabrication and instrument assembly were just the first stages of offshoring to Malaysia. In a crazed rush to foist anything and everything overseas with the shortsighted goal of boosting those end-of-quarter earnings we've finally reached a point of no return. Engineering responsibilities are being shifted away in addition to everything else. The Malay's past record of performance dealing with assembly and technical problems is shaky at best. Turning their engineers loose redesigning circuitboards, software, and mechanical parts (like instrument chassis) is dangerous. It's dangerous because they are inexperienced and we have little direct oversight or control of what they're up to at any given time. Lately we have discovered widespread problems after the fact that Malay engineers have been tinkering with programming.

B-Rad, Garden Gnome, and myself have been pulling our hair out dealing with a rash of random test code problems at EI. After each instrument passes mechanical inspection it's shoved over to an electrical inspection test system. Cable everything up, execute the test software and off you go. Then everything turns to shit. It's different every time which makes troubleshooting these problems a real nuisance. See, when an instrument barfs under test generally we don't know what caused it. We have to methodically rule out obvious things like operator error. Were all the cable connections in their proper location? Was the wrong software suite executed? If all that stuff checks out okay then you have to begin looking at more complex aspects of the problem. Is something wrong inside the unit itself like a mis-connected cable or bad firmware? Maybe you hook up another identical instrument to see if the failure repeats. Troubleshooting takes a tremendous amount of time away from production. When all options have been exhausted we frequently come to the conclusion that EI software code is messed up. Then we have to call engineering support. That's when DJ Danny Mac shows up on the shop floor with a pencil behind his ear and a mangy, crumpled, yellow graph paper notepad under his arm.

DJ Danny Mac is a skilled software code monkey. As soon as he's digging around in code guts he can usually figure out what the hell is busted within minutes. That's cool. What isn't cool is the overall cause of so many new software bugs creeping up that waste our time. According to DJ Danny Mac our Malay software engineers are rewriting code as it suits them without alerting anybody in the company that they've made a change. Once they've made an edit to a program, they upload it to master servers located in the Spokane, Washington division. From there the new versions of software are pushed out globally. Every service center and manufacturing division will receive and automatically update in a couple of hours worldwide. Of course by the time guys in our division realize what happened it's far too late. To keep us running, local engineers have to write new code to create a temporary fix. Hours later they will push out that updated version to Spokane's master servers. For whatever reason their revised program edits might cause another unforseen issue that only affects production in Malaysia. Then Malay software code tinkering starts over and the process repeats itself. Welcome to engineering software code wars round number 3! Fight!

What a waste of time and resources. If employees writing new software would think ahead just a little bit to email production divisions a heads-up that an edited program is going live it sure would save everyone a bunch of headaches and frustration. But, that would make things too easy.

Training In Button Up

2006-10-01T11:38:00.000-07:00

Instruments that have passed all phases of our test and calibration processes are stored in a holding queue next to Button Up. A web-based software system called Shop Floor Control (SFC) triggers each unit out of holding for us to work on five to seven days before it's scheduled shipment date. We monitor SFC throughout the day pulling instruments to start the final stages of production. As a step is completed in SFC an operator then moves it to the next stage. This helps us keep everything organized during the shift and it allows any manager or administrator to remotely view how close individual boxes are to actual shipment. The Button Up process consists of two primary functions, screening the instruments for any kind of defect whether electrical or other, and running a final software test executive that checks for basic functionality as well as setting the customer ordered option mix.

Button Up process flow begins with a mechanical inspection. I generally prefer to start with an instrument's front panel controls/keypad by depressing each button to make sure none of them are sticking or have any cosmetic defects. If nothing is missing or damaged there I scan over the top of it's chassis looking for wrecked cables, missing or loose hardware, PC boards that aren't seated all the way, debris (solder splash or metal fragments), loose ribbon cables, and re-torque every screw or nut with calibrated drivers.

After that it's time to look over the rear panel. We check for loose BNC connectors, making sure nothing is damaged, and remove any cosmetic defects like scratches. The rear panels are made out of brushed aluminum which in my opinion was a horrible choice of material. It scratches easily so by the time some of these instruments make it here they're beat up pretty bad. To remove scratches and dings we've been given fiberglass pencils that look like a coarse paint brush. It's a pain in the neck trying to rub deep scratches out of the metal with those damn things.

Scanning over the circuit side of the motherboard for loose hardware or damaged cables is easy. That only takes a minute or two. If nothing is messed up there it's time to install an inner protective cover and then slide a brand new outer cover over the whole chassis. Bottom and rear feet are installed. Then the unit is ready for a semi-automatic software controlled Electrical Inspection on a custom built test rack. EI is a whole other can of worms... ugh.

If there are no serious problems with a finished unit an operator at Button Up should be able to knock a box out every hour or so. That isn't the case though. Already in the short time I've been over here with B-Rad and Garden Gnome I can tell the majority of instruments are really screwed up. It's a time consuming headache trying to figure out what the hell went wrong with almost every box. Many of them have multiple issues. If the customer ordered option mix that's on the calibration certificate doesn't match up with what the instrument says is loaded in on it's front panel display screen we have to find out what happened and why. Maybe while we're running Electrical Inspection tests a rear panel BNC connector is dead. That's our job to repair and retest. The software code in the instrument might barf on us. Screws may be discovered inside the unit that are loose or missing. These are all daily occurrences here and we have to run each one of these problems down and get them fixed. Sometimes it's a very frustrating job.

Giving me an edge coming to MI/EI after so many years is the fact that I have done this kind of work before on older products. I've spent a fair amount of time helping the assembly area build these units when they are behind schedule. If they need help and I want some overtime I'll work a few hours a day catching up on their backlog. Occasionally I will come in on a Saturday to help. Building these units from scratch you become familiar with everything in the box quickly. Naturally when a finished instrument shows up in MI/EI and something doesn't look right to me I catch it almost right away. Saves a bunch of time. That's the difference between placing knowledgeable people in Button Up versus people who have never worked on these products. Because so many new employees were put into jobs like this with no prior experience our worldwide defect rate skyrocketed to unacceptable levels during the past couple of years.

Trade Adjustment Act

2006-09-29T12:12:00.000-07:00

I've been coming in a few hours earlier than normal each afternoon to maximize my training time with B-Rad and Garden Gnome. At least working with both of them has been fun as they're a couple of demented little guys. Good senses of humor and they are up for playing practical jokes on almost anyone here at a moment's notice. So that's been interesting. I feel kind of bad about leaving Mini-Rel operations in the hands of Greasy Guy again because I know what is going to happen back there in the lab and chamber area. That goofball bastard is going to slam the brakes down hard on production so he has plenty of time to wander around in the engineering department chasing after secretaries. Just like old times. Nothing ever changes around here...

Boozealler is supposed to be training with B-Rad in the morning every day but so far it sounds like he's come up with nothing but excuses. He's too busy, has meetings to sit in, etc. All I see him doing is kick back in his cubicle reading real estate text books. That's it. Seems to me if he's got enough time to be reading school books while he's on the clock he should have enough time to learn the MI/EI process.

While I was in the Button Up area working with those two guys today, Garden Gnome quietly dropped a memo on me and told me to read it. He didn't say much else. Looking it over my eyes practically bugged out of my skull. Get this. The company had the nerve to tell the US Government that all our job losses and layoffs were just because the company needed to stay competitive. Corporate tried to bullshit their way out of telling the truth that offshoring to places like Malaysia was just to boost short term profits. Somebody filed a suit against the company claiming our job cuts were violating a law called the Trade Adjustment Act which I hadn't heard of before. The Government wasn't buying Super Geek's story and they got themselves busted. Neat. The gist of it is every employee who has been laid off over the past couple of years is now eligible for funding to go back to school and retrain in another field. There are limitations and strict guidelines on what you can do with it but that's very cool.

Thinking about this I realized the guys in corporate really don't have any credibility. I mean whenever they show up and try to bullshit us in a coffee talk and I read about crap like this I just don't have any trust or respect left for those people.

A Humble Apology

2006-09-28T12:15:00.000-07:00

Today we were called into a special closed door meeting with the Bossman. Rougly 40 employees are all that remain now thanks to nearly a dozen rounds of heavy job cuts. None of us knew what our supervisor wanted to talk with us about and as I looked over people's faces I could tell who was nervous, those that didn't give a shit, and a few employees who appeared to be having a good time. I was somewhere inbetween the nervous and didn't give a shit crowd.

After waiting for everyone to settle down the Bossman began to speak. He was having a difficult time choosing his words at first. Obviously something had been troubling him. It was apparent from the tone of his voice and long pauses between what he was trying to say. Basically, he told everyone in the room that he was truly sorry. He was sorry for the way our employees had been treated by the company, he told us this was not the way Bill and Dave would have conducted our business, and this was not the way he would have chosen to handle downsizing our department. I got the feeling from his demeanor that my boss was disgusted with the way things had turned out.

The Bossman apologized to everyone sitting in that conference room. Especially to those who had just lost their jobs and would be leaving in three months or less.

I was amazed. He didn't have to do this.

Continuing on the Bossman told us that trying to meet production goals with such a drastically smaller staff was going to be difficult. He wasn't sure if we'd be able to pull it off or not. A plan was still forming in his mind to try though. In coming weeks he said some of us would be asked to transition into other jobs. Work that some of us might not prefer to do but there was a need there nonetheless. He specifically asked employees who were being severed out to try to do their best with training replacements. The Bossman knew that would be a tough thing for some people to deal with.

I had already been approached by the boss to head over to Button Up. While I wasn't happy about making that move I realized I still had a job here. That was the important thing. I would not have chosen to make that transition on my own and it wasn't the kind of work I wanted to do anymore. Been there, done that years before. It was what I had been tasked with doing though so I would make the best of a bad situation. Just because it wasn't technical work in nature didn't mean the job was any less important. In fact staffing MI/EI is probably even more critical than anything I had been messing with back in the lab. Since Button Up is the last stop in our production area everything on each box has to be perfect before shipping out. Those guys screening for defects have to be on it mentally during their entire shift. Their attention to detail has to be exceptional. Nothing less. It's up to them to catch electrical failures, cosmetic damage, assembly mistakes, discrepancies in paperwork, and all sorts of random unpredictable bullshit.

It's an important job. With one shot we lost our Button Up experts B-Rad and Garden Gnome. There wasn't anyone left after that. The Bossman announced that both myself and Boozealler were tapped on the shoulder to train with B-Rad and Garden Gnome as their replacements. I think he was trying to use us as an example of the kind of job shifts our crew would be facing from now on. That was when Boozealler decided to open his big stupid mouth.

Boozealler abruptly announced into the room, "I don't think I should have to do that kind of work. It's beneath me." He continued running his mouth after that but I tuned him out.

Instantly I glanced over to where B-Rad was sitting. I could see he was angry. I mean who wouldn't be? He just lost his job after working here for over twenty years and he's got some punk saying the work he did that whole time is unworthy. That's what Boozealler was telling everyone whether he meant to or not. Big Dog was sitting to my left and he started making wisecracks about what an asshole Boozealler is. People started snickering. Treehead and EH weren't impressed with Boozealler's comments either. The boss remained quiet and let Boozealler dig himself in deeper and deeper. I think everyone in the room at that moment lost any and all respect they ever had for Boozealler, if they had any to begin with.

Rather skillfully, the boss made his response to Boozealler very clear. If you weren't willing to roll with the punches like the rest of us you wouldn't continue to be employed here for much longer.

Bossman

2006-09-26T10:04:00.000-07:00

Funny thing happened with this most recent layoff. All but one of the department's supervisors have been kicked out. I'm busting a gut laughing about that. Probably the best part of the whole deal is Halfshirt and his precious kiss ass James are no longer employed here. So sweet. Good riddance, assholes!

A supervisor who has been handling new product launches for the past couple of years is stepping down from the R&D labs to take control of our area. He's no stranger around here since many of us have been working for him indirectly on Mini-Rel without actually reporting to him. I genuinely like the guy, he's got a real up front honest personality with a reputation for being fair and for being a straight shooter. If you make a mistake somewhere along the line and he has to come speak with you about it he'll just come right out and say you fucked up. That's cool because all he wants is whatever situation to be rectified. And if you outperformed or really did a kick ass job the Bossman will make sure you get recognized for it. I like that.

Production managers here in this company used to be held to very high standards of performance and conduct. In the 1970s Bill and Dave's company was at it's pinnacle of innovation and status as the world's premier technology leader. Due to rapid growth and the need for more people to step up in the company many standards were drastically lowered for hiring supervisors. The floodgates were thrown wide open, almost anyone could transition into management. Two decades later you can really see how much damage these incompetant cokeheads have caused throughout our business divisions. It's been bad. The Bossman however is one of those rare individuals that in my opinion embodied what Bill and Dave sought for in their management team members. They wanted sharp people who could make solid business decisions and who had excellent people skills. Since 1992 I've had a lot of supervisors here and only two of them fit into this category. The rest have been junk.

The Bossman dropped by my cubicle the other day and we had a serious talk. Everyone down on the back end of the line has been thrown out. Their exit dates are scheduled three months from now which doesn't leave much time for training their replacements. We're already spread pretty thin in the department as it is. He asked if I would be able to handle taking over the Button Up area. It wasn't great news. Years ago I did plenty of MI/EI work on a couple other instrument lines. The thought of going back to doing that instead of supporting engineering in the environmental lab made me cringe. But, I told the Bossman if there isn't any choice I'd make the best of it. Yeah, I could handle it. What a big step backwards though. Shipping boxes off the line wouldn't be anywhere near as interesting as working with prototype units in the lab. Before the Bossman left he said we would talk about it some more soon.

I felt pretty bad for B-Rad and Garden Gnome. B-Rad had been working here for 22 years, most of that time he spent as a MI/EI expert. Losing your job after that many years had to be rough. If I have to go back there to train with them hopefully they won't be too bitter about it. I mean Garden Gnome and B-Rad won't have much incentive to show me what's up since they've been ditched. I can completely understand how they might feel in this situation.

The Deepest Cut

2006-09-26T00:36:00.000-07:00

As months passed everything at Bill and Dave's company became increasingly stressful. With each wave of layoffs few employees were left still standing yet our daily workloads increased. It was truly depressing. While Greasy Guy was over in Malaysia, Boozealler and myself were able to turn the entire Mini-Rel operation completely around. Even though I didn't personally like Boozealler much I did have to give him credit for doing such an excellent job in the area. He earned my respect. Because of that strange skin corrosion he was covered in I didn't want him sharing my torque wrenches. I kept my distance. I never did ask him what the hell his affliction was...

Late in the summer that year we were told a final round of layoffs was coming. Rumor had it that this was going to be the last big one, a total bloodbath that hardly anyone would survive. For many of our employees the stress of wondering whether or not they still had a job was too much to handle. Emotionally, some people had turned into total wrecks. They just wanted to get it overwith once and for all. I didn't really care anymore. All I did every day was show up, do shit, go home to drink mass amounts of beer, and sleep through the following afternoon. What a routine.

When Super Geek's offshoring axe did finally swing the rumored bloodbath was entirely as advertised. Most of the people in my department had been handed a severance package and told to leave. Elements of our dayshift team were completely eradicated, and only a handful on swingshift made it. I had even been hit, but someone in management intervened on my behalf. No one told me about that until months later though. At the time I had no idea about it. Since almost everyone was let go that meant big changes were in store for those of us still collecting a paycheck. My fledgeling technical career path was coming to a halt and like many others I would be forced to step down into less challenging work. Sometimes you have to roll with unpleasant changes like it or not. The thing I tried to keep in mind was, a job is a job. Working here a while longer would at least be easier than standing in line at the unemployment office downtown.

Messing With Shoelaces

2006-09-26T00:00:00.000-07:00

Another slow night came and went at work today. I hate it when it's slow. Every time I take a peek at my watch it feels like an hour or two should have passed but it's only been ten minutes since the last check. When things are this slow my mind goes into mischievous overdrive and then dumb stuff happens. Tonight I talked Dr. Fist into pulling a prank on Shoelaces. The idea was to go up into the ceiling via Mezzanine level catwalks and pelt Shoelaces from above his workbench with garbage. Only problem was we weren't sure where exactly his workbench would be located from up there. Can't see through ceiling tiles you know and the catwalks might not be anywhere near where Shoelaces was sitting.

After Dr. Fist used his proxy card to unlock an access doorway to the Mezzanine, we stepped through to the main catwalk. Acting all serious like we were there for a legitimate reason both of us passed by a security camera and then promptly broke left onto another walkway. Following Dr. Fist through a rat maze of access doors we zig zagged across the building to where we thought Shoelaces bench was located. Neither one of us could see shit down below in the production area. Railings kept us from reaching out to lift ceiling tiles to spy and it was far too dangerous to even think about climbing over a railing to walk around out there. One wrong step and you'd plunge through cardboard thin tiles and white florescent light fixtures to smack a smooth concrete floor. That wouldn't be good.

We knew Shoelaces must be close by but without having a clear view there was no way to be sure. Also, there wasn't a good spot like a missing tile or a hole anywhere through which we could dump cans of garbage or throw stuff at him. Then I had an idea. Close to where I was standing there happened to be a computer rack with a bunch of phone equipment in it. Covered in dust there was an old black desk phone sitting at the bottom of that rack. I picked it up and to my surprise I heard a dial tone. I punched in Shoelaces' extension. Not far away I heard his phone ringing, and a few seconds later Shoelaces answered. Heh. I engaged him in small talk while Dr. Fist hovered right over Shoelaces voice. I couldn't think of much else to babble about and I was starting to laugh so I cut the conversation short. We could hear our unsuspecting victim walk back over to his technical workbench and sit down.

Improvising on the spot Dr. Fist reached over from where he was crouching on the catwalk and grabbed a long length of discarded phone cable from a small wastebasket. Poking the cable through a corner of a ceiling tile he slowly fed more and more downward. Neither one of us could see where it was going and we both had stupid grins on our faces. Everything was going well and then all of a sudden without warning the whole phone cable was yanked out of Dr. Fist's grip. It disappeared instantly. We'd been caught. Apparently the cable landed on an instrument Shoelaces was troubleshooting but he didn't notice it right away because he was looking at some schematics on his computer terminal. When he turned in his chair and spotted cable dangling down from the ceiling he snagged it and pulled hard. The jig was up.

Oh well, at least it helped waste some time and kept me from being completely bored.

Dr. Fist

2006-09-24T11:54:00.000-07:00

Unlike many engineers fresh out of college who enter the world of high technology, veteran engineers like Dr. Fist and DJ Danny Mac actually know what they're doing. I've worked closely with young mechanical, electrical, and software engineers who have graduated from respected schools all over the country in recent years. Not many of them have the aptitude or skill for the profession they've chosen. It's disappointing and also frustrating when you have to deal with engineers who can't hack it. Frequently I wonder what in the hell college professors are trying to teach these guys. Do they encourage their students to intern anywhere while in school for some valuable hands-on experience? I'm not sure.

Dr. Fist has been working at Bill and Dave's company for a couple decades I reckon. Over the past year and a half I've relied upon him for systems support and for advice dealing with tons of random projects that have been dumped on me. He's been a tremendous help. Whenever I'm stuck with a serious problem that I just can't solve Dr. Fist and DJ Danny Mac are the guys I call to get things sorted out. It's like being able to request a heavy artillery strike to wipe out nuisances. Both of them are our swing shift engineering support and they are damn good at what they do. I'm probably not smart enough to be an engineer but if I was, I'd want to be like these two kooks.

I've spent some time talking to Dr. Fist about how he became interested in electronics and what he did for work before getting a job with us. From the sound of things Dr. Fist seems like he must have been a very gifted child. He was fascinated with all things electrical in nature from a young age. Little boys are troublemakers and one of the things Dr. Fist liked to do was short out the power to his neighborhood. He threw lengths of exposed wire over high voltage power lines and watched a light show of sparks as everyone's houses went dead. Once, he bought a kit that allowed him to convert an old tube television into an oscilloscope. I didn't know anyone had even thought of such a thing back in those days. Dr. Fist even figured out how to broadcast over a local television station with practically no real equipment. That's impressive for a kid to pull off. Himself and a few friends apparently were able to sing "Home On The Range" during a popular TV program which completely drowned out the show's dialog. Nobody caught Dr. Fist for this prank despite the fact that a local newspaper ran a story about the mysterious "Home On The Range" singers.

Like myself, Dr. Fist has collected a wide variety of vintage electronic gear. He must think I'm a pest because I keep picking his brain about different kinds of obsolete technology. Stuff most people have never seen much less think about. Lately I've been on a quest for Nixie tubes so I bother Dr. Fist about them whenever I see him in a hallway or stop by his cubicle. Man, he's got some crazy stories. Years ago he picked up a used pulse laser from a Bay Area surplus store. The laser was a model from an Army laboratory and according to Dr. Fist the beam was not constant. It had to charge up then fire off. When the laser was active for a brief period of time the beam could burn through solid objects. Part of the charging mechanism gave off so much energy that it would cause a sheet of binder paper to burst into flames if it was held nearby. Sounds like fun to me. He mentioned that laser output power is sometimes measured in Gillettes. That is, how many Gillette razor blades a beam can burn through if they are stacked in a row. I never knew that.

Recently I ran across a pretty funny website that documented a clever portable electronic design someone had thought up for keeping a single mug of beer cold. http://folk.ntnu.no/arnesen/peltierbeer/index.html
The project seemed like something our employees would be able to build easily so I forwarded the weblink out to a bunch of guys in my department. Someone else then forwarded that link on to Dr. Fist. His response was amusing...

As a senior in high school (1970) I connected a peltier cooler in an icechest. Project goal, keep a sixpack cool for a week on a single battery and remain portable. I ended up cheating and used a battery from an ICBM. Small, powerful, mega expensive, not rechargeable. Price prohibited product market. On the Guinness cooler the guy made. Keeping a dark beer cool on a hot day is even more important because the sun heats it faster than a light beer. He made a number of basic principle errors of not controlling his heat/cold sources. There have been advances in the technologies of batteries and peltier devices that could produce a marketable product. I like my pop ice cold not just cool, keeping it cold in the sun is a bit more of a challenge. This would also enlarge the market for the cooler.

The Mezzanine Floor Tour

2006-09-23T09:38:00.000-07:00

Between the first and second floors of Building 1 there's an off limits mezzanine level. Sometimes when I was transferring instruments through the facility on a large rolling cart I'd have to use a freight elevator. Every once in a while I'd catch a security guard stopping the elevator at the mysterious mezzanine level. They put a key in the control panel to unlock the elevator doors and then step out there and vanish. Nobody has access to it besides those guys and maybe some building maintenance workers. I always thought that was kinda strange.

Mentioning my observations to Dr. Fist about the sneaky security guard elevator action he laughed. He told me they have a secret command bunker in there. I was like, what the fuck? We've got what I thought is THE security command center in our main building's lobby. Dr. Fist told me that's just for show. The real one is hidden up there where nobody can get to it. Real doomsday kinda stuff I guess. Weird. Our other facility up on the hill was built during the height of the Cold War and I knew it had some crazy built in features. There's four buildings stacked up on a hillside and they're all inter-connected with underground bomb shelters.

Dr. Fist said, "Building two also has a mezzanine level." I often heard workers trampling overhead on metal catwalks somewhere up there but I never thought much of it. I asked if we could go check it out, it was kind of slow in the area anyway and Dr. Fist has a proxy card that grants him access to nearly everything on the campus. He agreed and we went up to take a look around. Shoelaces joined us as well. Dr. Fist warned me though. Apparently there were hidden cameras along the catwalks and security would see everything. So I better not do any stupid shit.

We walked out of the production area to a nondescript door. Dr. Fist used his proxy card and the electronic lock gave way. After climbing up a steep ladder and opening another door we entered into a strange world. Instead of being inside an industrial building it looked more like I was wandering around inside the hull of a ship. We had to crawl underneath large air ducts, climb over series of pipes, and I had to watch for low ceilings. Not more than five minutes into the adventure I managed to bust my skull on a section of overhead pipe. Really fucking hurt, too.

I never realized how much equipment is needed to run a building this size. I mean, you wouldn't see it unless you were a maintenance worker I guess. There were rows of autonomous computer system racks that looked like something you'd see in a science fiction movie. Dr. Fist told us what each one of them did. One was for controlling the fire suppression systems and alarms, another handled all of the phone traffic in the building. A separate section handled the building's computer networks. Continuing the tour I was surprised to see small maintenance worker desks. They had been let go some time ago and a few of their workbenches still had paperwork mixed with a sprinkling of hand tools scattered on them. One of them even had a clock that had stopped. It was as if they had all suddenly died.

Climbing up a short flight of stairs we opened a tiny door and cruised out into a rat maze of cat walks. The light switches were all controlled by timers so if you were going to be working up there for a while you'd have to guess how much time you needed and set the timer switch accordingly. Every few hundred feet there were obsolete computer terminals covered in thick layers of dust. The monitors reminded me of old monochrome green Apple IIe computers. I bet none of them had been used since the early 1980s. I didn't know where in the hell Dr. Fist was leading our clandestine tour to until we stopped inside a large room with an odd looking machine in it. It was the size of a bus and painted pure bone white. Seemed like it was brand new.

"Do you know what that is?" Dr. Fist asked me. I didn't have a clue.
"It's an air scrubber."
"A what?"
He said, "Back when they were building this section of the facility one of the top managers here wanted to use this building for a new PC board division. He was trying to get corporate to set it up and place himself in charge of the whole operation. The building was intended for high volume board production. Solder wave machines would exhaust smoke fumes through special ventilation shafts into this air scrubber. It uses water and a series of filters to catch all the chemicals and then spit clean air out of the building. After it was installed by heavy crane through the roof, corporate killed the new PC board division idea. This machine has never been used."

Wacky. And what a waste of money. I'd never seen anything like it before. Climbing around the machine's base to get a good look at it I stumbled across something that made me laugh. One of the maintenance workers had rigged himself up with a covert bunk so he could sleep on the job. Heh. Lazy bastards. No wonder we got rid of 'em!

Visiting With Feet

2006-09-21T16:58:00.000-07:00

Girls are pesky. Naturally pesky.

Sometimes Autumn crosses over the pesky threshold... way past my tolerance level for female peskiness. This mostly happens when we're laying around in bed or we're both kicking back on the livingroom couch. If Autumn is a little on the restless side and has too much energy for her own good the pesky comes out of her with a rambunctious vengeance. Emergency depeskification is immediately required.

Finding a fast, safe, and effective method for stopping the pesky did take some experimentation on my part. Eventually I was able to narrow things down to one tried and true flawless procedure for eliminating the pesky. I simply let my hands visit with Autumn's feet. You see, her feet are extremely sensitive to the touch. She loves having them rubbed. They're also amusing to mess with because Autumn is absolutely ticklish on the bottom of her feet. So the way this procedure works is Autumn is subdued with one arm (can be a dangerous job) and then feet are visited liberally with my demented digits on the free hand. During this phase of the process Autumn becomes a wild squirmy woman possessed by demons. I would assume she is not having a good time however she laughs all crazy-like. I have to conclude she always enjoys my personal visits with her feet immensely.

Afterward, Autumn is fairly quiet and she has a bitter look in her eyes. The good news though is all that pesky is gone! Works every time. In addition, if I sense that a fresh case of pesky is brewing I can ask Autumn if I need to see her feets. This of course is a veiled threat but most of the time it's all I need to do to preemptively stop the peskiness before it's too late.

Cart Arms

2006-09-21T11:26:00.000-07:00

Halfshirt has been doing nothing but whine lately. I'm sick of hearing it. His latest gripe is we don't have enough instrument arms to mount up more units on hubie carts. There must be a couple hundred carts stacked up in the area right now and there's plenty of instrument chassis to throw on them. But, no arms to mount them means new boxes sit around on shelves collecting dust. It's totally stupid because the longer they sit around like that we have less available days to meet their shipment deadlines. Pull out your gun and shoot yourself in the foot please. We're good at doing that to ourselves around here you know.

A simple solution to the cart arm problem would be for Halfshirt to task his personal kiss ass James to build more arms. We have boxes of brand new hardware to make at least another fifty sets of arms. That idea doesn't seem to have crossed Halfshirt's mind at all. Figures. He can't manage his way out of a wet paper bag.

Yesterday afternoon I was so fed up with Halfshirt's whimpering that I told him I would make time to build up more cart arms. My plan was to leave them in a couple of boxes on his desk ready to use by tomorrow morning. That would be that, he could shut the fuck up now. When I had two hours free from the chamber area I set myself up at one of the assembly production workbenches with all the necessary parts and hardware. Putting these things together doesn't require much. Each set of arms are identical with the exception that one side has a sprocket gear added to the axle. The other one is just a straight axle. Two arms, two axles, one sprocket gear, four screws, and four nuts. Put 'em together and tighten up. Place in box. Repeat. Sheesh.

At a minimum when I arrived at work today I expected a thank you from Halfshirt for doing him a favor.

Today when I come in to work I hear Halfshirt did nothing but complain about the new sets of hubie cart arms I built. Get this. He had James the butt snorkle sandpaper the side of each arm that mounts to instrument subframes because he claimed they were all dinged and scratched. When I built them the night before I dumped them into large black ESD boxes. No big deal, we throw them into a variety of containers on the shop floor when not in use and they get handled pretty rough. Halfshirt freaked out as soon as he saw stacks of the hardware thrown into boxes. James wasted a good portion of his shift sanding out miniscule nicks in metal and it's all for nothing because they're going to get thrown into boxes again as each unit is shipped off the line. If Halfshirt is so worried about the shit being dinged and somehow scratching front panel instrument paint he should remember one thing: we have instrument touch-up paint for covering minor cosmetic damage from cart arms. That's what it's here for in the first place, dumbshit.

Back To The E Lab

2006-09-21T09:49:00.000-07:00

I am impressed. Boozealler has been kicking ass working Mini-Rel. In less than a month he's picked up quickly on every aspect of the job. Boozealler is a fast learner and his communication skills have been top notch. He's my day shift counterpart while Greasy Guy is in Malaysia again. I'm seriously considering approaching our department managers to ask if we can keep Greasy Guy in Malaysia permanently. I don't want him around here anymore. Greasy Guy left for Malaysia a few weeks ago and just like last time I was able to rapidly get our operation back on schedule. Now with Boozealler's assistance we've even got a little ahead of things which is a first. That's freed me up to spend more time in the environmental lab supporting vibration and shock testing.

Engineering needs more test data on our latest designs of instruments because they've had too many electrical failures. Personally my feeling is the latest generation of boxes we're producing are flimsy. Bad mechanical design and shoddy workmanship from our subcontractors are serious issues. Older product platforms were built like tanks compared to this new shit. During the vibration tests I've observed brand new units go completely dead, the black and white front panel display screens suddenly are color (which they aren't supposed to be able to do), power supplies arc and short out, smoke belches out of the instrument case, and other totally random stuff. For a new design I'd say none of this bodes well. These things are probably not going to last long in the field.

With each hard electrical failure both mechanical and electrical engineers are called to investigate. We're short on time trying to introduce these products to the market before our competitors come out with a similar offering. So not enough time is being devoted to reaching solid solutions. Instead engineers are forced by time constraints to come up with band-aid fixes that won't last.

One trend I noticed in failures at vibration test had to do with PC boards backing out of their connectors on the motherboard, which causes the instrument's power supply to automatically shut down. Kills the unit instantly. That means there might be a hardware problem with those motherboard connectors themselves. Rather than really get down to it to discover what the root cause of the problem is, mechanical engineers opted to place a couple of foam rubber pads inside. That's supposed to help force the boards down into their sockets. Pads like that disintegrate rapidly though so that problem will eventually surface again when those units have been in use for a while. They're also using plastic tie-wraps all over the place to secure rigid cables throughout the units. That's fine, but when you're using defective plastic tie-wrap anchor points that pop off the instrument you might as well not bother.

Out behind the shock and vibration room where I spend hours at a time thrashing instruments there is a specially built room we call the Isolation Booth. Inside it reminds me of a sound studio because the walls and ceiling are covered in a pattern of special blue foam cones. The booth is used to test RFI (radio frequency interference) and EMI (electromagnetic interference) leakage. Noise like that from high end gear can affect a wide variety of electronics in a bad way. For example they might screw up someone's Pacemaker and kill 'em. There are industry standards we have to abide by with our products so we also have to test them to see how much RFI/EMI they might be leaking and how much each box can dampen down from outside. There is a workshop pegboard just across from the isolation booth's front door that is loaded with what look like miniature TV antennas. You know like the kind of antenna you might see towering over someone's house. We use those to sniff the units for interference. I might be back there doing some of that testing soon. If you're a nerd like I am shit like this is kinda cool to be working with.

Individual Contributors

2006-09-20T03:59:00.000-07:00

Deep cuts into our workforce have left hardly anyone still standing in this division. Whole departments have vanished into thin air. The only way you'd even know anyone had been employed here is by looking at the piles of office desks and production workbenches stacked outside in the parking lot. Swing shift is like a ghost town now. There's only a handful of us in the buildings at night. Rumors have spread that this factory will be entirely shut down soon and for those of us still fortunate enough to have a job we will be relocated to another manufacturing site. Upper management hasn't given any details about our next round of layoffs but speculation is the axe will fall hard and the cuts will be much worse than before. This is the true face of offshoring.

We've seen most of our really troubled, poor performing employees kicked out in the first job cuts. That was actually a positive thing because dead weight coworkers held us back. Made the work environment fairly unpleasant at times. Things instantly ran smoother without employees like that mucking up the shop floor every day. I was happy to see pain in the ass people like that finally removed from the area. It was so long overdue. Now what is happening around here is highly skilled employees in critical positions are being tossed out. In many cases there are no replacements for them that have their level of expertise or knowledge in an aspect of our work. Managers hastily shift those responsibilities to other employees who are already overburdened. The expectation is for us to take crash training courses from disgruntled employees. You can't substitute 20 years worth of on the job experience with employees who have never transitioned into jobs like this on short notice. Only a few weeks to train and really understand what they are supposed to be doing isn't anywhere near enough of an effort to be successful.

Company infrastructure and manufacturing support is starting to break down.

Management has angered many of us by eliminating indispensable employees by the dozens and at the same time retain useless, deadbeat low level supervisors. I realize that for each nitwit manager they spare from the axe a few star performing employees could have stayed on with us. Managers are expensive. In comparison skilled production workers aren't. Once you're in the management club though you're almost guaranteed to be taken care of. The big dogs around here have shielded some supervisors from being cut by changing their job description. Instead of being a production line manager they now call them "Individual Contributors." It's a purely made up, abstract job title that means nothing.

Let's say you're a line supervisor and your entire department has been eliminated. You no longer have any employees that report directly to you, there is no manufacturing business for you to oversee anymore. You have no function here and for all reasonable purposes you should be let go. So, you are re-classified by your peers as an Individual Contributor and allowed to sit around all day doing zero. Every once in a while maybe another manager dumps some mundane busy work project or mindless task in your lap that nobody else on the management team wants to do. The rest is cake. You get to collect your pay and do practically nothing. It must be nice.

Boozealler

2006-09-19T10:21:00.000-07:00

Greasy Guy has been back from Malaysia for a couple of months. Everything in the environmental lab is totally jacked up again thanks to his bullshit. It's amazing how clueless he is. Greasy Guy makes the worst decisions and can't manage his time. Another round of recent layoffs hit us hard. We lost Mr. McConvict and another helper back here so it's pretty much been up to me to struggle with the test schedule. We had an older woman who was in bad health trying to assist us but she didn't like the work. I think she was starting to get hurt trying to load and unload instruments from temperature chambers so I cut a deal with her. As soon as supervisors left for the day each afternoon I said she could sneak up to forward flow and test boxes over there. I'd cover the chamber area. That way she was more comfortable and I wasn't tripping over her every night.

There's a new Signal Generator coming out of the R&D labs shortly so we have to get ready to take that on in addition to all the other stuff. Ugh. Management wants Greasy Guy to go back to Malaysia again for another three month assignment. I'm looking forward to that. Get him the hell out of here please. Before he heads overseas the bossman has assigned a desk jockey to train with us in Mini-Rel. That's cool, I can use the help. But this particular person they've chosen is kind of a dunce. Not sure if he's gonna work well with this.

I call him Boozealler. He was hired in a few years back as a production worker. Lowly manufacturing on the shop floor wasn't his speed so he's been ass kissing his way up the supervisor food chain into more and more clerical work. He's one of those people who wants the high paying desk job but apparently doesn't have any formal schooling to get him there. I've seen this happen many times before. Guys like him weasel their way into a paperwork job after not being worth a shit as an assembler. Then they end up being a mediocre administrator or get involved with some obscure support job. Boozealler has the extra advantage of having a relative who is in management. I think his father works here in some other department so with his pop's influence Boozealler will probably get what he wants. Oh yeah, one thing I noticed about Boozealler is his skin looks like it's slowly oxidizing. It's like he's covered in white rust. Real weird. He starts learning the Mini-Rel test process with Greasy Guy and myself in the chamber area this week.

One World, One Team

2006-09-18T18:47:00.000-07:00

Company slogans. Just can't get enough of them around here.

The latest retarded corporate jingle to come from our CEO's office is "One World, One Team." It refers specifically to the increasing amount of infrastructure and growing number of employees in Malaysia. With thousands of American workers being laid off from the company throughout the US their jobs are transferred overseas. Malay step in to replace them for a fraction of the cost. Same jobs, same type of work. Naturally there has been a high amount of negativity and backlash from our people in divisions here about this. So to try to smooth things over a new company slogan was needed...

Here's how One World, One Team is really working out.

Stateside, Mid level management is leary of dealing with their Malay counterparts. They have deliberately been withholding key information from the Malay so they have to depend on us for certain logistical aspects of production. Managers here have also been trying to overwhelm portions of our Malaysia division by forcing them to accept an excessive amount of orders. Their plan is to bury them in so much work they can't possibly handle it and meet critical shipment deadlines. Hoping that they will fail consistently for months in a row US production managers can then raise the issue with corporate and say, "see Malay can't handle it so we have to bring work back immediately." This could easily backfire. If by some miracle the Malay pull it off more work might be sent offshore rapidly causing further rounds of layoffs here.

Over in Malaysia clever managers there have found an effective way to cripple production lines in the US. What they have been doing is order every kind of part and supply available even if they have no use for the items any time soon. All of their PC boards, components, hardware, etc. are stocked in American divisions. When they place an order our warehouse guys have to pack it up and ship them out. From a cost of shipping standpoint it doesn't seem to make much sense. Especially when you consider freight is traveling halfway around the world daily instead of between divisions in the same county. Whatever. Anyway the Malay will clean us out of parts and then instrument production lines here run out. Everything comes to a screeching halt. Ordering systems have been implemented to prevent the Malay from swiping everything but they either don't work properly or the Malay have already figured out work-arounds to get what they want.

When we force them to send back stuff like circuitboards, the parts we receive are broken. For example all of the boards they return are what we refer to as dogboards. Those are PC boards that have damaged circuit traces and or defective components. Since Malaysian technicians are having severe difficulties troubleshooting problem circuitry they order fresh boards from us and then ship back wrecked replacements as brand new stock. It's fucked up. Not only are US instrument lines shut down due to lack of parts but then when we get those out of stock parts they're junk. It's been driving technicians here to the brink of sanity.

Here's another neato trick the Malay have been pulling lately. Flood the inside of microcircuits with nail polish. There are no company microcircuit lines left in the US. Every single American worker in those departments was wiped out. Now that we depend exclusively upon the Malay for our microcircuits we have no recourse or alternate supplier available. Part of the manufacturing process for microcircuits requires that hardware in the outer case must be secured with an adhesive like Loc-Tite. A single drop on each screw thread is enough. Malay employees have been using nail polish that looks like Loc-Tite. Then they proceed to flood the entire microcircuit cavity with that crap which totally ruins them. Frequently we don't discover this until after an instrument has been built and failed somewhere in the test process. Too late.

Obviously there are ongoing training issues in Malaysia which is directly contributing to some of the mayhem. A solid argument could be made that the substandard level of training Malay have been given is our fault. After all, that is a large part of our responsibility. Corporate has been treating our Malaysian workforce very poorly in my opinion. This is what we get as a result. Not entirely surprising to me.

So there you have it. One World, One Team. Pretty cool, ain't it?

GSA Contracts

2006-09-11T10:04:00.000-07:00

Sneaking around in order databases and spying on our manufacturing operation in Malaysia has been relatively easy. Thanks to a few employees who have given me their account logins I have been able to identify numerous customer orders from various branches of the US military. I know which service has purchased specific kinds of products, each instrument serial number, and the expected shipment date. With this information I simply watch for each unit serial number to appear as work in progress at our Malaysia factory. Keeping in mind only 49% of each US Government rated order can be manufactured in Malaysia I should observe very little assembly work being performed on these boxes there. They should be spending most of their time in the testing process. However if I see that these units are being built from scratch and going all the way through the process then being re-serialized as a Singapore built unit then I know for sure our overseas divisions are up to no good.

My plan is to gather a minimum six months worth of hard evidence if we are in fact breaking federal laws. That way nobody in our corporate offices can claim ignorance or say "Oops. We made a mistake there sorry Uncle Sam." I want those fuckers to burn.

Unfortunately due to a colossal amount of incompetence at various US Government agencies including the DoD Inspector General's office, I haven't been able to get a yes or no answer to a straightforward question. Is it illegal under current federal laws for our company to be producing instruments for the military at our Malaysia factory? I haven't been able to find out, so I might be wasting my time.

For every kind of product and service we provide to the US Government we must have a contract that specifically states the rules on what we can and cannot do. We literally have thousands of different kinds of electronic test and measurement instruments that are used for Radar Surveillance, Electronic Warfare, Homeland Security, and Signals Acquisition (interception and eavesdropping). So that means every model of product has to have a government contract for how we manufacture it and a separate contract with the government for providing repair and servicing of that product. These contracts are called General Services Administration Contracts (GSA). When I get home from work each night I have been looking up and reading through our GSA contracts. They're a nightmare of legal gibberish. Each of our contracts are generally about 80 pages in length and so far I haven't been able to find anything in them concerning countries that are off limits for building government rated orders. It's been a tiresome pain in the ass.

1.20.2004

2006-09-10T18:07:00.000-07:00

I did not read your message. Reason - I did not want any more turmoil in my head. Mom is enough for me to deal with, and all that I can handle.

I promised your sister that I would not write you anymore, and this is a violation of that promise. I will have to tell her.

I guess that you sent someone out to our house to investigate something. Turned out to be a very nice lady, and we invited her in for coffee. She actually connected me with some sources of day care.

If I can repeat myself - your mother is not being abused, and I will allow you any private access to Mom to decide for yourself. Please consider this. Your not talking with Mom, other than a few seconds on her Birthday is very hard on her.

We are up to our ears in many areas. I have retained a very expensive Attorney, only to help us with Mom's qualifying for Medicaid. Nothing More ! I did mention that there may be some future "War" within the family. His suggestion - Better for all, especially Mom to smoke the family "Peace Pipe". I saw some wisdom in that, and especially for Mom's sake.

Mom is quite frantic over the possibility of a family feud ( court ) and is more than upset. She asked me to call your Aunt ( for her )a week or so ago, and I should have been smarter than that. It was dumb on my part, as all she did was get hysterical and cry. I then get on the phone and your Aunt jumps on me.

I have no interest in bothering your Aunt and Uncle. I do jog a different route, now due to the Winter and dangerous streets. That route is now shorter, and I had used two Cul de Sacs, to lengthen the run. Theirs was one. I have stopped going in there, as I never intended on confronting your Aunt or bothering her. I saw her a couple of times, and never looked at her or said a word, or made eye contact. I now bypass her Cul de Sac, and use the next one.

The next year or so, maybe two, will take every ounce of strength that I have to get Mom through and maybe one day into a home. The money that I managed to save for Mom, has already come in handy, as the Attorney was very expensive $5500 - up front.

I don't know what your current plans are, and my/our life is too messed up to consider other things. I hope that the "Peace Pipe" is something that can be considered for Mom's sake.

Your Aunt aksed us to move, and I actually considered that, and sought out a Real Estate agent. I do not like it here. The agent however, showed me in black and white that this area was the worst choice of all. Our appreciation on the home has been very little if anything, and would take a minimum of six months to possibly sell. We are stuck.

I do not wish to be in anyone's face, or bother anyone (including you ) with our plight, and problems. I will do the best that I can. Your sister has asked to be in the middle of all of this and I am informing her of everything. The Attorney advised against changing the Power of Attorney to someone else due to Mom's not even being able to write a decent "X" at this point. So, her competency now, is actually in question. The Attorney suggested the "Peace Pipe" and having whatever family members included in all decisions. That includes you.

I am still waiting for a registered nurse up here, to give me a list of day care people ( I will call her today ) that are qualified to care for Mom. The lady from the agency you called, sent a packet of information on day care. She is a very nice lady. The weather up here has been just awful, and even if I were free to do so, not much to do. Snow, and ice.

Maybe you and your sister can talk more often, and my standing offer of a free round trip plane ticket still stands for either you or her.

Dad

1.9.2004

2006-09-10T12:25:00.000-07:00

I guess that your perceptions are too difficult to shake. As far as "coaxing Mom". I do not, and never have. We have lived together for many years, and I simply try to help her speak. I have never "Allowed her or dis-allowed " her to speak to anyone. She wanted to talk with your Aunt the other day - I dialed the number for her ( but did not want to ). Mom talks with her God Mother Denzel in San Francisco, and frequently she stumbles for words, and I help her. I do not try to manipulate your mothers conversations. She can say whatever she wants. I invite you to call her, have an Attorney on the line with you, and ask her anything you wish. I will leave the house. You will find the conversation to be nearly impossible, unless maybe you catch her early in the morning.

Your Mother is NOT being "Abused" "Coaxed", or "Manipulated", in any way or fashion.
I suspect that your resources are limited, and the your Aunt will assist you with that. If you would like to have an Attorney come over and interview your mother, in my absence, be my guest. I doubt that nothing less than a "Media" Circus, would satisfy you. Your mother wishes to stay at home here. It is all that she has left in life. Her house her comfort, etc.

How about your thoughts as to what she needs ? What type of care does she need ? How many hours a day ? Do you want her to forcibly, against her will, be put into a home ? If I can work with your suggestions, I will try and do so. What type of help would satisfy you ??

In very real terms, our Retirement money is very limited. Most of what we have is invested, and about 1/3 of that belongs to the Feds in Taxes. If you want Mom in a home, say so. If you want Mom with round the clock care, by a professional nurse, than we have a scenario that will "Eat us Alive", and a home may be the way to go. The cash that I have saved, will last about 4+ months, and then we are into "Investments". Less if I see the Elder Law Attorney, and initiate Medicaid.( $6500 )

I just spoke with our Attorney ( a few minutes ago ) that did our initial legal work up here. He is coming by a 6:00 this evening, just to discuss a few matters. I told Mom about what was going on, and that there may be "Care" coming into our home . Mom went into instant crying and hysteria, and said that she wants to be left alone, especially by you and your Aunt. She does not want to be manipulated to do what you want. Nor does she want influence on her life by you. Mom said this morning that " She would kill herself, rather than be pushed around by you" ! NOW ! If you think that I am coercing your mother into making statements, or controlling her dialogue, I will pay for your round trip flight up here, to spend some time with your mother. You can ask her anything you wish, take her with you for a day, anything at all.

I am sorry that I wrote E-Mails to you with my head "spinning " most of the time. One of my closest Fire Dept friends that has remained my friend throughout all of this, recognizes that I am up and down emotionally, and also knows that most people would be. Hey, it's one of life's worse nightmares ! My life ,and your mothers, has been destroyed, by not one, but two illnesses - one if not both will be fatal.

So, I invite you to come up and see your mother at my/our expense. Round trip airfare on us. I will pay for a motel, whatever you want. Just come up and see your Mom, and get the whole picture from Mom herself. And you can question her all you want. Look for Bruises, question her doctor. I will make an appointment for you. Question our neighbors, question the waiters and waitresses that we have become friends with. You owe this much to your mother. You have seen her so little, called her so infrequently, and yet are able to judge her care. Curious ??

The only time that Mom was hurt up here, she was with your Aunt. She fell at Penny's. Mom does not fall with me, as I hold on to her. WE traverse snow an ice together, and no spills.

A few minutes ago, this letter was interupted by a couple that we know and like very much. They are Hispanic, and the wife would be happy to spend a couple of days a week with Mom for "openers", so that I can get a breather. She drives, has a car, and is very sweet. Not a stranger.

I do not recall anyone asking me what I would like, but, right now it would be for family members to just leave us alone.

I do not hate you, but, I expect that you have a great dislike or hatred for me. My goal, is to care for Mom, protect her wishes, and represent her in all matters. She designated me to do so, and I will abide by her wishes.

Dad

1.8.2004

2006-09-09T22:39:00.000-07:00

Heard that your computer took a shit. Hope that you get it fixed. Thought that you just pulled the plug on E-Mail.

I am going to take your advice on several fronts. Mom just within the past week, has really slipped a bunch. I need a rest, some R&R, and get my head on straight.

I was going to pursue Medicaid, but that is the end of the Estate for you and your sister. I have changed nothing. Who knows what will happen ?? I certainly do not. I am trying to find either Philipino or Mexican help with references. The Mexican help is through a family that owns about 5 restaurants up here. They are as honest as people can get. I will pay under the table, which is a help to most of them anyhow, and it helps me, except for a tax writeoff. I will start with 8 hour days, and then see what is really required. Some friends did this with their Dad, and the Philipino woman was wonderful. I figure that I can maintain Mom in good comfortable condition at home here for quite some time. If a nurse is required, then I will have to go that direction. If I need 24 hour care then I will do what is required. I may need to put Mom in a home at one point, but, will do so on my own, without Medicaid. If I request Medicaid help, it is the end of our house for you and your sister. In other words, there is no point in being premature with Medicaid, I cannot undo Medicaid. When I am down to the bottom of our barrel, then I will have to do what is necessary. I have talked this over with friends and they all agree on this course.

Thanks for calling Mom, it was a help. The party was pleasant, and we found things to laugh about. The people were just "super" to Mom. and very Loving. About a dozen or more showed up, and, No "Dorks" invited. Today I went over to another neighbor and borrowed her puppy toy Pomeranian. Mom played with that dog for two hours, and the dog wore out Mom. Mom loves the dog, but, found out that they are too "hyper" for her. No Dogs ! Thank God !

I heard a horrible noise in my driveway today, and it was yet another neighbor with a snow blower. We had a foot of powder in the driveway. If you drive over it, it is then ice. So, I got some clothes on and helped him. We did about 12 homes in a couple of hours. We got a LOT of Thank You's. Even Mom came out and watched for a few minutes.

Sent some photo's to Autumn for you. Mom's #57, snow, and the little dog.

Took Mom to Wells Fargo yesterday,to sign the signature card for the safe deposit box. She just scribbled, but it is her signature now. Also will put a "tidy" bit of money back into savings. Will explain that one to you, one day on the phone, and it came from an Attorney.

I would send you the photo's that I sent Autumn, but, it might screw up your machine. She'll show them to you.

Dad

I have a backup PC that I have been using for a few weeks. It's always good to have a spare around. The motherboard on my good PC has a number of blown capacitors. It shouldn't take me much time to repair, I just haven't gotten around to it.

I haven't pulled the plug on any email. I have received everything you sent.

It is good you are finally getting some help for Mom on a daily basis at home. However I don't think getting under the table help as you put it is the way to go about it. You need professional help for Mom, as well as yourself. I still think you can find part time help and I suspect you just haven't put that much effort into the search. I will try to find you some more options this week.

I am not interested in money, I am not interested in what is in your will or trust or whatever you've worked out. If you have resources at your disposal to make your situation more comfortable and Mom's care better by all means use it. That's what it is there for. Whatever you may or may not leave behind is not a concern. Mom's immediate situation is a concern.

The phone calls during the past week really angered me. I know Mom cannot call out from your place unless you allow her to do so. I know you were coaxing her at least twice during the calls because I could hear you in the background trying to get her to say things. Do not manipulate her. You aren't fooling anyone so stop trying.

As for my recent email that you supposedly showed to Mom I have a clear conscience, your guilt trip failed quite miserably. If she was upset after reading that one just think how upset she will be if I show her just two of your now infamous *divorce* emails. I can play your game and play it well. So watch your step. Also you can cut the small talk crap. I know you don't give a shit about anything going on with myself or my sister as you've never been much interested anyway.

We're down to brass tacks at this point, no need to hide it. Just want to make sure we're all clear and on the same page here.

The Zaca

2006-09-08T11:27:00.000-07:00

Among my father's nasty habits there's one particular thing he does that really makes me angry. Whenever Dad gets his hands on anything that belongs to my mother's side of the family he snags it for himself. Doesn't matter if it's antique furniture, books, photos, or whatever. If he doesn't personally care for an item he'll ditch it either by giving it away to someone he knows or selling it for practically nothing. He never asks my Aunt if that's okay with her nor does he offer the stuff to my sister or myself. Thanks to him we've lost a large amount of family belongings. Other times he uses family heirlooms like they are bait. Stuff that Mom wanted my sister and I to have when she's no longer with us are being confiscated by Dad. He's been making recent claims that Mom has changed her mind about leaving us some specific things. I suspect Dad is either making that shit up or he's manipulated Mom to it. Makes me crazy just thinking about it.

My Grandfather Hugo had a rather large collection of books many of which date back to the early 1700s. There's some impressive stuff in his library which Mom inherited and then Dad quickly appropriated. One of the more unusual items was a seven volume photo history of a black sailing ship called The Zaca. Hugo had a close friend named Garland Rotch and for some reason unknown to us Hugo ended up with most of Garland's personal belongings. This included those seven books, a Zaca crew ring, and dozens of tribal artifacts from the South Pacific like daggers and wooden clubs. Nobody in the family knew anything about Garland or this ship and as the years slipped by it's mysterious past became more intriguing to Mom. I enjoy history and I like a good mystery so I decided to take The Zaca on as a project and do some research for her.

At the time I had a good friend who was a manager and captain working for the Maritime Museum in San Francisco. After talking with him about the ship and mentioning Garland's books he invited me to spend some time in the Museum's research library at Fort Mason in San Francisco. Fort Mason is located right next door to the St. Francis Yacht Club in the city's Marina district. I knew exactly where it was and drove there after making an appointment with the Museum's library staff. Once I arrived the librarians were very helpful with locating any information concerning The Zaca. What I learned that day really surprised me.

In the late 1920s one of San Francisco's wealthiest men desired to have a custom built racing yacht. His name was Templeton Crocker. Mr. Crocker employed Garland Rotch to design and build a schooner worthy of round-the-world sailing and endurance racing. Garland chose the Nunes Bros. shipyard in Sausalito to construct the ship. At a total cost of $200,000 and christened "Zaca" (a Native American word which means "Peace") the ship was completed and passing it's first sea trials along the California coast by 1930. Mr. Crocker chose to have The Zaca painted black above the water line which gave his made to order yacht a sleek yet ominous appearance. Garland Rotch was The Zaca's first captain.

During the summer of 1930 Mr. Crocker made a historic journey with The Zaca. It was the first time a private yacht circumnavigated the globe from the West Coast. The crew included about a dozen professional sailors as well as a photographer and of course, Garland. It was a good thing Mr. Crocker invited Garland along for their year long trip around the world because while they were in the South Pacific Templeton Crocker fired Zaca's captain. Garland resumed those duties immediately afterward and remained as captain for the rest of their cruise. Upon returning to San Francisco Mr. Crocker published a book about his adventure simply titled, "The Cruise of the Zaca" which was published in 1933. As I turned through that book's pages in the Maritime Museum's library a chill went up my spine. All of the photos in "The Cruise of the Zaca" were in Garland's seven volumes of books at home. I instantly recognized them.

Templeton Crocker continued to sail The Zaca until World War Two broke out. Because of fear that the Japanese might attack California and due to a lack of available patrol ships the US Navy seized all privately owned ships over 70 feet in length. The Zaca was 118 feet long. Rapidly converted for military use ships like Zaca were outfitted with anti aircraft machine guns and stationed off the California coast to patrol for enemy ships and rescue downed pilots. When the war ended Zaca was in poor shape and auctioned off for a mere $14,350. In most cases the US Navy did not return private ships back to their original owners. Star actor Errol Flynn, known for his roles as a swashbuckling hero later purchased The Zaca (while drunk as usual) and had a complete restoration of the ship completed. By the time of his death in 1959 Zaca was once again in bad shape and left to rot somewhere along the coast of Spain.

1.7.2004

2006-09-08T11:26:00.000-07:00

Basically Mom is furious with you, and does not want you to have ANY of the Zaca stuff, especially the ring. Her wishes, brought up at dinner tonight. She feels that you do not give a "Rats Ass" about her, and are confirming her opinion.

Dad

Shades Of Abuse

2006-09-08T10:41:00.000-07:00

My father has few friends left. One of the long time friends Dad still talks to is a real nice guy named Ron. I've always liked him. Ron actually gave me my first job when I was a kid. I worked part time in Ron's custom hotrod shop helping to prep cars for the spray paint booth. Unfortunately I was too young at the time to realize or appreciate what a cool opportunity I had been given and take advantage of it. Anyway, as the years passed Ron became a family friend. Honestly I don't know why Ron has continued to hang out with Dad.

Ron has some trouble at home with his wife. Sometimes Dad and Ron talk about their experiences. I'm sure it helps both of them get through some tough times. The only similarity both Dad and Ron have is that their spouses are sick. Circumstances are very different in Dad's household and that's something he doesn't understand at all. See, Ron's wife has mental problems. As long as she takes her medication things are manageable. That doesn't mean it's any easier for Ron, but they get by. Also his wife is not terminally ill. When she refuses to take her meds Ron's wife is a serious mess. She's pushed Ron to the edge a few times and he has considered divorcing her to save himself from going insane.

After talking with Ron about his family problems Dad got it into his head that he too could divorce his wife. My father doesn't appear to realize that Mom's illness is much more serious than the plight Ron suffers through with his wife. Dad got the idea from Ron to ditch Mom just because she's sick. This is when she needs her husband the most and all Dad can think of is skipping out on her. I think that's got to be one of the most fucked up things I've ever had my father talk to me about.

Ron only knows what Dad tells him and that ain't much.

One of the things I have quickly discovered is that as long as a person doesn't have any signs of physical abuse no abuse must be taking place. It seems from a legal standpoint or view, emotional and mental abuse doesn't exist. Even if it did and could be proven in a court case nobody seems to care. Behind closed doors Dad continues to treat Mom like she's junk. He's completely oppressive and mean to her most of the time. When strangers or family friends are around Dad turns on his caring husband act which most people instantly fall for.

Dad's latest tactic is to tell Mom over and over again that I am going to force her into a nursing home. By lying to her about the truth he's been able to manipulate Mom into having less and less contact with the rest of us. Makes things easier for Dad to act with impunity. I am not trying to place my mother into a long term care nursing home right now. What I am trying to do is get Dad to clean up his act and be more proactive about keeping Mom comfortable and happy. I want him to stop mistreating her and get a professional nurse in the house a few days a week. That is reasonable and it's what I expected should have happened a long time ago. Dad continues to refuse to hire someone to help. Again this comes down to not wanting to spend any of *his* money.

My father didn't even know about Medicaid until I brought it up. Funny how short and selective his memory has become.

Well, I'm sure Dad will hit me with even more retarded cheap shots and insults the longer this situation goes on. Too bad he can't come up with anything more original or creative. Loser.

1.6.2004

2006-09-08T10:29:00.000-07:00

This will be my last attempt to make any sense with you. I spoke with Ron, and told him of your comments regarding my saving money for Mom -"hoarding Money", "Deplorable", etc. Ron could not believe your train of thought, and it boggles my own mind. I sold my Motorcycle to add to this money. It is Mom's.

If you were familiar with Medicaid, and how ruthless they are with one's assetts, you might understand what I was trying to do. Based on a suggestion from yet another Attorney, over a month ago. Your thinking is based on ignorance, and not on how the system works.

As of this morning, Mom arose crying about,"how could her kids do this to her". She has spent two days extremely unhappy, crying, and the like. To be honest with you, at this point I wish that we had no family, no confusion, and could be left alone.

I could come up with many documents as to Mom's level of care. As far as your term of "my abusing the Fuck out of Mom", is concerned, it is very far from the truth. Frustrations, have been many for her and myself. She has been upset at times, and upsets very easily. So she goes over to her sister's ( not any more ) but did on occaision.

Mom asked me to call your aunt yesterday, and all Mom did was cry on the phone. She was not crying about anything that I did , but rather the "abuse" that you may be willing to put her through. She is scared to death, does not want to go into a home, and that is fine with me. You have found fault with just about everything that I have done, or did not do. What you do not know is that your mother has resisted all attempts at in house help, and would rather die than wind up in a Long Term Home.

Let me bring you up to speed. I will eventually lose everything that I have worked hard for. I do not have an illness, but, will have to pay the price due to Mom's illness, and that we are married. An Elder Law Attorney could help me to have a house to live in, and at my death, the house would belong to Medicaid.

I have not seen a plan from you for Mom's benefit. You have seen her so little, and talked less, that you could not know her requirements. I am not afraid of going to court against you, but, it will be Mom, that you will be upsetting and hurting the most. Unless you are just interested in doing dirty laundry in public.

So, in the absense of a plan from you ( other than I/WE need help ), why don't you tell me what will work ? Or, are you just going to try and stuff her in a home someplace ? A stranger for an 8 hour day is $160 -once a week is $680 out of our pockets for what ?? You have repeatedly given me generic instructions to get help, but, have no idea for what you are asking. Easy to do from 700 miles away, and also having not a cent of financial responsibility. So what am I to do ?? Hire some mexican girl to watch Mom, and go skiing ? Have help every day to the tune of $3600 per month ( 8 hour day - 20 days ). How about a plan from you, that will satisfy you. Mom has ( 3 ) Medical Insurance Policies that I pay for, none of them cover Long Term Care. You cannot get Long Term Care once a diagnosis is made ofAD.

You probably don't remember, but your aunt and mother were doing the same thing to grandma. Waiting to see when she just could not be alone any more. Neither one of them lived with her but, I do live with Mom.
Grandma lit herself on fire by accident. Were the girls to blame ? I think that they partially were at fault, for not recognizing the seriousness of her Alzheimer's.

Many people have visited us, many Dr's have seen Mom, and she is not getting abused. Many people know us better than you do, and that is all too obvious. Many neighbors have seen Mom over the past few years, and find that I try my very best with her. It took me a while to get used to the idea that our lives were changed forever, and that most of the things that we used to do, we can no longer do.

Traveling by car is impossible now, unless it is by motorhome. Traveling toilet !

Why don't you try calling Mom on the phone and talking with her yourself. It's been a very long time since her "caring" son has called her. I'll leave the house and you can ask your mother anything you want. Abuse, anything at all. Mom faces the possibilty of the return of Cancer. Not etched in stone, but, possible. Would a phone call to her be out of line ?? So far, you missed calling her on Thankgiving, Christmas, New Years, and in a few days, her 57th Birthday. Wonder what a judge would think about your lack of contact, concern? About your very strange perceptions with money ? Having a mother with AD, and Breast Cancer, and not taking time to call her with the simplest wish. You don't have to talk with me, as I would be glad to give the phone to your Mom, and give whatever privacy she needs.

Why don't you do something constructive, and present a plan for Mom's welfare. Something that we can discuss as you will not be paying for it. I personally do not feel that a home is the place for her yet. Maybe one day when she does not know any of us. She made me promise that I would not put her in a home, and that she could just die at our house..

So, there is much that you know nothing about. Come up with a plan for Mom that I can work with, or act out of "Hatred" and drag your Mom into a mess. Also in a last comment, I do not like being "Warned", especially by a person that cannot responsibly pay their own bills. Your admission ! If you can come up with a plan that is feasible, provides whatever it is that you think we need, than we can talk about it. You never offered "extensive talk" on the subject, just that I/WE need help.

Dad

Explaining About Dad

2006-09-05T13:57:00.000-07:00

My parents house that I grew up in was by no means a dump as my Dad likes to call it. If you imagine upper class Brady Bunch style 1970s housing tracts you'll pretty much have a close visual idea of what our house was like. The house was a large two story place on a corner lot. It had just about everything a family could want in a house including a big in-ground swimming pool in the back yard. Dad always complained about living there, because no matter what he has it's never good enough. He could roll up in a brand new Ferrari and if you told him how nice his car was, he'd say in a gruff tone of voice, "Ah that thing is a piece of shit." He's like that with everything, including stuff he's made with his own two hands. Dad is a skilled guy with talent for woodworking. In his spare time he builds beautiful acoustic guitars geared towards playing classical music. If you compliment his work he'll say it's garbage. That kind of seems strange to most people. After a while people don't talk to him much about his projects and try to avoid him altogether.

At work I have to constantly stay focused on what I'm doing. My job requires me to be extremely detail oriented. Usually when I start my shift each evening I tune out most aspects of my personal life, family problems etc. I can't afford the distraction. If I dwell on family stuff or if Autumn is upset with me for some reason I can't think at work and everything quickly turns to shit. Making mistakes on the job can cost us dearly. Lost test time and possibly damaging hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of brand new equipment. In order to minimize any kind of distraction created by Dad I have deliberately kept him in the dark about my daily hours at work and what my phone extension is. If he had my work number I know what will happen. Dad will call incessantly just to push my buttons and rile me up. I don't need that.

Because my father enjoys cutting me down more often than not I stopped talking to him about what is going on in my life at any given time. When I told him personal details he'd remember them and twist them all around in his mind then use that information to beat me down. I slipped up a while ago when I told him Autumn didn't want to move in with me. He used that as another example of what an idiot I am. At the time when I talked to him about Autumn's decision, I was completely frustrated with her and I guess I didn't have anyone else to talk to about it. I should have kept my mouth shut. The funny thing is Autumn is just as financially irresponsible as I am at times. Maybe even worse. Her excuse for not wanting to live together didn't carry much weight. She just didn't want to make it happen and any excuse was good enough for her to weasel out of it.

I admit, I do have trouble managing my money. It's probably my greatest weakness that I need to work on. What Dad doesn't know is I have put away $40,000. If I need to I'll use that to retain lawyers. My aunt and uncle have nothing to do with backing me to go to court against my father. That's just his persecution complex doing the talking. In fact my aunt and uncle don't know much about what I'm up to. I'm going to keep it that way. The one thing I have asked them to do is send me any handwritten letters Dad has been putting in their mailbox. For months he's been harassing them by leaving mean spirited letters for them to read. When you read his crap you can tell some nutjob was behind it. I figured those letters might be useful in court so I asked for them. I have quite a pile sitting here now...

I enjoy shooting. Guns are one of my hobbies. I don't go hunting or anything like that. Mostly all I like to do is bring targets out to a range and blast away at 'em. Machine guns are what I prefer to plink with so a few years ago I picked up a couple. That's what Dad's AK47 comment was about in case you were wondering. I know some people are creeped out by those kind of weapons and others think it's real weird. For me it's mainly a convenience issue. Why stop every couple of minutes to put another five rounds into a rifle when I can just slap in a thirty round magazine and rip shit up? Anyway it's fun. Don't knock it 'till ya try it.

Dad doesn't know I have been talking to Mom's doctors and some of his neighbors on the down low for quite a while.

Talking to Mom has been tough. She doesn't remember how to use the phone anymore. To make things easier for her we programmed in our phone numbers so Mom could call me or my sister with the push of a single button. The phone would auto dial for her. Dad apparently went into the phone's settings and nuked all of the pre-programmed numbers which I thought was suspicious. He claimed "She didn't know how to use the damn thing anyway." Since then all incoming calls have to go through him first. With outgoing calls Dad dials for my mother and then hands her the headset. A few times I've heard Dad whispering what to say to Mom before she says the exact same stuff. He's been coaching her to tell me some really messed up stuff that I know she would never say on her own. That's been another of my top concerns that something is terribly wrong.

Instead of hiring a professional to help around the house with watching Mom so Dad can skip out for a break, his idea is to try to hire dishwashers from Mexican restaurants. He wants to bring in unprofessional people with no background in health services or medicine at rock bottom under the table hourly wages. That way it doesn't cost him much. The cheap fuck. We have all been vehemently against this, including Mom herself. That's why she has been fighting Dad about bringing in outside assistance. If he would simply pay for a real nurse trained to deal with Alzheimer's patients that would be a different story.

Recently Dad got particularly mouthy with me over the phone. I mentioned his mouth has been getting him into trouble in his neighborhood and I told him the story about almost getting his ass kicked by the Chief of Police. As I figured that didn't go over well with him. I thought it was amusing Dad wants to brawl the guy. I'd pay good money to watch him get his ass handed to him in a fight and then be placed under arrest for assaulting an officer. I'd probably laugh so hard that I would piss myself. See that's another one of Dad's ego problems. Even though he's into his sixties now he still views himself as a 1950s tough guy like Mike Hammer or some shit. It's a corny front I wish he'd drop because down underneath it all he's a big sissy.

1.5.2004

2006-09-03T11:39:00.000-07:00

Mom and I had not finished our Financial Planning, and I needed to see one more really good Attorney. And by the way, I meant to say Medicaid, when our money runs out. Anyway this Attorney calls this afternoon. We speak briefly, and I generally tell him where we are at, and That we need a few good answers. He proceeds to tell me that the AD married couple is the worst scenario that there is , and I/we will be broke at the end. I already knew that. Guess what his fee is for helping Mom file for Medicaid, and assisting us with various legal papers ? $6500 up front, on his desk. Now, I happen to have $6500, because I made an effort to save money. You are probably the only person on the face of this earth that could, or would, call that "deplorable". As you have never saved money in your life ( savings ), you would not know how hard it is. If I bought a dozen AK47's, would that have been a better move ?

Mom shorted out today, and asked me to call your aunt for her. Mistake ! Mom knows that all your info comes from your aunt, and she doesn't want to see her again. She feels the same way about you. She would like to move and see none of you again. If I could help her achieve that goal, I would. However, moving at this time, is not possible. I did see a Real Estate person today, and they appraised our house. This golf course is the Last place that anyone wants to move to. It is not a hot spot at all. It is one of the worst, and least desirable, according to the Real Estate fellow that your aunt also knows. Highest Taxes also. Would be next to impossible to break even in over two years. I would love to accommodate her and move, but it ain't gonna happen.

I'm throwing a Birthday party for Mom. Been planning it for a couple of months. If you cared about her, you'd call. Christmas too !

Dad

1.4.2004

2006-09-03T11:36:00.000-07:00

What do you know about Medicare ? Medicare for a married couple is the financial ruin. You continue to make comments about my "hording" cash, and outliving my wife. There is every possibility that Mom will outlive me, and frequently, AD patients as young as Mom linger for 10 to 20 years in homes. The money was a conserted effort on my part to "save" for Mom's use. One home up here, will cost around $5700 a month. Then there are extras, that will need to be paid for like prescriptions, diapers, doctors,. etc That is all extra cost per month. My pension will be cut in half. If Mom went into a home today, which she does not want to do, I might be able to handle the financial burden for about three years, then we are "Belly Up" broke. The extra costs, are bills that are sent to me, not your sister or you. So, is it deplorable, that I am trying to "bolster" our assetts in Mom's behalf ??

Would it be better if I spent every nickel on frivilous stuff , and saved nothing ? I took your advice about taking Mom on a cruise, as it would be a difficult endeavor, not to mention the expense. If I thought that Mom could have enjoyed the cruise, I would have said, "Damn the expense".

Mom does not want to go into a home now. This morning she said that she would "kill herself" first. So, I am between what you want me to do, and what Mom does not want to do.

It seems that your "Hatred for me" has replaced any common sense, logic, and good judgement. I have been cutting your mothers food, helping her eat, doing the laundry,taking her to the Hairdressers ( every week ), cleaning the house, paying the bills, etc, for a very long time.

This is no longer , about Mom, it is a "Personal" matter for you. If you in fact cared about Mom, you would have called on Christmas, and Thanksgiving.

Seems like words are no good any more. Do what you have to do. I know that your focus is NOT on helping Mom, but, hurting me if you can.

Dad

1.3.2004

2006-09-03T11:31:00.000-07:00

You still don't have your info straight, and probably never will. Sure I have had lack of patience with Mom at times. Who wouldn't. I have helped her a thousand times more than you. Yesterday we took Mom to a show, and it took three of us to get her down from the dimly lit balcony. Thankfully, we were with another couple, and they helped. Then we went to their house for dinner. Mom could not drink out of a tall wine glass, and we got a small one. Every day is geared toward Mom.

My brother doesn't contact ANYONE in his family. Not his Son, who is "Gay", nor his daughter. My mistake was loaning him money which he did not repay. He does not contact me, and disappeared from everyone in his family. He was an embassassment to all. I will never forget your telling me of Autumn's choice to not let you move in with her, as being irresponsible and "flaky" with the paying of bills. My co-signing for you at Circuit City, was the only blemish that I have ever had on my credit. And I'm sure that you never cared enough to tell me.

Now if I am to believe that YOU sought legal help in our area. Quit bullshitting me. You don't have "dime one" and your aunt and uncle are helping and/or paying for the advice and/or help. This is a lot to do with your aunt not liking me, and trying to divide our family. Well that is history.

As Far as "paying the fiddler", if it is now a personal matter, that is your choice.

You mother is VERY pissed off at her sister, and wishes not to talk to her again. Nothing to do with me. If you meddle, in what is left of our life, Mom will be VERYunhappy with you also. Have you talked with any of our close neighbors that we dine with often ?? Have you talked with people that we see often ? Have you talked with your Mom's doctors ? My suspician, is that you have observed a few things, know little, and listened to your aunt a lot. It has been a long and hard adjustment for me. It was a gross error on my part to share my emotional difficulties with you. I too would like to be like my brother Steve, and disappear from my family.

If your planning some sort of a court action, with your aunt at the center, all that you will do is drag Mom through a long mess. I would have to assume that what you really want is to drag ME through a long mess. I have been saving money for the time when your mother will need it the most. I am seeing a last Attorney this week, that specializes in Elder Law. I have many problems with our assetts.

If you wish to talk with some of our friends. Be informed. These people we've seen ten times more than your aunt and uncle, and we go to dinner frequently. My guess is this is now a "Personal Matter", and you will not take the time to talk with anyone except them.

What you are forgetting, is several things. Mom has fought me "tooth and nail" about having someone else in the house. Help is very hard to find help on a part time basis. An 8 hour shift is about $160. And it is an unknown person. Your mother is violently against this.

Another guess is that you wish to add more of an emotional burden to what we already have to deal with. In other words, it is a time to "Get Even". Like I said before, YOU, don't have the resources to do anything, so your aunt and uncle are your team mates. Sort of a "Tag Team".

I let Mom read your letter, and she is crying in the living room.

Do what you have to do.

Dad

1.1.2004

2006-09-03T11:29:00.000-07:00

Just for the record. I do not want to be judged as a liar. The info on that letter came from her best friend Kathy. She was laughing when she told me. I would have never known about it, as I am not a "busy body". I know that your aunt had been a real pain to A.M.I. the outfit that does the maintenace work in here. Whom the letter came from, I am not exactly certain, but, it "Rocked" her fragile world. There was a letter putting her in her place, as a "Real Pain in the Ass". 100% Truth. Ask Her !

The Top Cop ? I had one run in with a guy, that could be the Asshole in question. I saw a ball in our yard, went over to pick it up, and some Asshole starts yelling at me from 50 yards away. Am I supposed to know that it was his ball on my property ??

I have given many more balls back to people than I have kept. The Assholes are the exception. This guy was the King of Assholes. #1. this Golf Course is the absolute shits, and I never liked playing it. Didn't play it this year, and would not, even if it was free.
We had words, but, the man was Dead Wrong. Private property is out of bounds, and Golfers are not to trespass, to retrieve balls. So #1. The man was incredibly rude. #2. The man was wrong. #3. He is an Asshole. I did not "Fuck" with the wrong guy,------He did !
He accused me of not having a gate,-----I do have a gate. The gate is not for Golfers, but, Police and Fire. The guy is an idiot, and typical of a "Loud Mouthed Cop" that thinks he can get away with anything. I told him not to yell at me again, he didn't !

I do not expect to talk with you any time soon, but, wanted the facts straight. Your facts are not even close to being straight up. I am on a first name basis with many golfers, and have people stop by to say "Hello" all the time.

You can try and do whatever to me, ----------just DO NOT cause your mother any grief.

Dad

12.31.2003

2006-09-03T11:25:00.000-07:00

Mom and I have had a "Rough" couple of years. It has been hard on both of us. I could not believe what I was hearing from you, this morning. You have gone from being my only son, to my worst enemy.

Your aunt has been feeding you garbage, and you are gobbling it up. She is one of the most disliked people in this Sub Division, and was not allowed to sit on the Board of the Homeowners Assoc. They told her to take a "Fucking Hike". She is a known trouble maker. Ask her to show you the letter they sent her. I dare you to ask her ! Find out who is Fucked up around here !

The Top Cop ! I "Fucked with the Wrong Guy ??? Have the Asshole, whomever he is, ring my doorbell for a clarification of who did what to whom. Out of uniform - please, so that your Cowardly father can have a word or two with the gentleman.

Well, -------you upset the shit out of Mom, did not call her on Christmas, and will most likely forget her Birthday. Great son ! I mentioned our conversation to a few neighbors today, and they could not believe their ears. Your solution for making Mom Happy is working just terrific,--a Hell of a job !

You do what you have to do, and bring it on "Full Bore". Don't Fuck Around. As far as I am concerned, and your mother also, you have a new family. The 85# Mouth, and Idaho's answer to Elmer Fudd.

I could go on and on, but, you will not "Get the picture". You're Out, Bring it On !

Dad

12.29.2003

2006-09-02T14:26:00.000-07:00

I asked Mom last night if she wanted me to call you for her ,so that you could talk. She said "NO". I cannot imagine that this is what you want. Maybe you are just tired of both of us, and just want to do your thing. If that is the case, please say so. I would be sorry to hear that, but, it might be the way you feel.

I have made many mistakes in my life, but, never wanted to feel like I was "enemies" with my only son. Have you done everything in your life just perfectly, and every decision was correct ?

It is very difficult to contact you, as your hours are strange to us, and we do not have your work phone #. Mom felt as though no contact on Christmas was deliberate, and sent her a message. Not the usual caring message of Christmas.

I do not know what the future holds, but, I would like to be friends with you. My plans are uncertain at the moment, depending on Mom. If something happens to Mom, in the short term, I am outta Idaho as fast as I can pack boxes. Probably Gardenerville, just over the Sierras from South Shore. Ridden bicycles there many times. It will all hinge on selling this house. It will be tough as homes have not gone up in value here. I would be lucky to break even, in two years. The house across the street from us on Rancho Cabeza went up $200,000 in the last two years. I talked with Verna, and several old neighbors recently.

Coming up here, and thinking that your mother and aunt could become good friends was the stupidest thing I ever did. They can be in the same room, but, close sisters will never happen. I did not really get to know the real personality, until moving up here. You have seen one side of the coin only !! Just for your knowledge - she wanted to be on the Homeowners Association here, "Big Time". She made it known that she was interested in an opening on the board. She was "not so politely" told to take a "fucking hike", as she is well known here as a "trouble maker." I did not even know this, until your aunt got the "Shingles", a nervous stress disorder. Then of course, the whole scenario fit like a glove. She wanted that job so bad, and knew every little infraction that every homeowner had committed. Like fence colors, and the like. Thank God, someone knew about her. So, this whole move to Idaho was a tragic mistake on my part. I do not have any problem admitting my mistakes, however, some of them are not as easy to see.

If you do not want to have any contact with us, just say so. That's easy enough ! I cannot help the way things have gone. I could have done better emotionally, but, was really undone by Mom's several illnesses.

Talked with Ron the other day, he called. And his 94 year old father Walt died the day before. We talked about Christmas, and Ron asked if our kids had come up. I mentioned that your sister had called, but we never heard from you. Ron, goes "Holy Shit", maybe you're the problem. I said ,Ron, I don't doubt that for a second. But, I do not know how to fix it. Ron is very compassionate, and invites phone calls and or E-Mail. His wife was just as bad once, and Ron turned into a pile of Dog Shit. He sat in my living room, with a blank stare in his eyes, and he was besides himself. He had no answers, and was scared shitless. I never found fault in him for that. He almost cried on occaision. Ron was faced with the possibility of divorce, and losing everything. Then, of course, the Court intervenes, tosses Gloria into mandatory custody, and forces Meds down her throat. Gets her well, and releases her back to Ron.

So, where is all of this headed ? What do you want ? If you would like me, or both of us to just "evaporate" and not bother you ? Do you want me to evaporate, and not bother you ? Shortly there will be no point in contacting Mom at all. Do you want one way communications to you only, no communications ?? When Mom dies, are you going to go to her funeral ? Seems sort of rediculous.

I can change my phone #, and E-mail address, and never talk to you again, if that is what you want.

If Mom and I have placed an unwanted burden on you, check this out. I got a phone call one evening from a neighbor, that my Dad was dead. I went over to their house, and had to pick up his brains, pieces of his skull, and blood were all over the room, floor and walls. I cleaned up the room, painted the walls, and repaired the 44 caliber Magnum bullet hole in the wall.

My mother, I reluctantly took care of her, for over twenty years. Many cars, many hospitals, many adverse situations very late at night. Jail time, and I paid for her funeral at the end.

Have Mom and I inflicted this type of burden on you ? While you may not be proud or pleased with either one of us, I don't think that we required too much of you. Maybe you'd disagree with that.

I would hate to move, and not want to have you know where I moved to, and be friends .
This is not a bunch of rhetoric because I am bored and have nothing else to do. Actually, I have a lot to do, and never seem to get caught up. The house has about a half inch of dust on everything and I need to get hopping.

I hope that your aunt will not continue to be a source of influence in your thinking and information. It took me a while to learn that you tell her "nothing at all". No information, no plans, "nothing" !

I hope that you find time to contact Mom. Like I said, I would have tried last night, but, she said "No" ! I do think that she'd like to speak with you, and be aware that she has become quite hard to talk with.

Dad

You just don't get it. I've basically had to write you off. The problem is not people around you. The problem is your thinking, or lack thereof. My aunt and uncle are good people. You continuously have failed to see this. There comes a time in friendships when people have had enough of being belittled, berated, and mistreated. Your brother Steve chooses to not have any contact with you anymore because of the way you treated him. Your brother in law and sister in law choose to not talk to you anymore for the same reason. My sister and myself are in the same boat at times. You've pushed me too far and I've had enough.

I know you won't listen and at this point it's too late anyway. I am going to force a few issues with you in the coming weeks whether you like it or not. I feel I have to help both of you because you are not able to handle it. This is not my opinion it's simply what you have shown me.

You have abused the fuck out of Mom. I will never forget watching you glare at her across the table when she's having trouble with her food. Anyone else would simply just help her cut it. You watch her suffer. You show little to no understanding or compassion for your wife. You have been a worthless caregiver. You continue to horde cash in the hopes of simply outliving your wife and protecting *your* money. I find this to be deplorable.

I have sought legal representation. I have sought help from other resources in your area. I am coming for you... I gave you time to unfuck yourself. You failed, I warned you. I warned you to stop abusing Mom. As I expected you continued.

It's too late, bud. Time to pay the fiddler.

12.28.2003

2006-09-02T14:22:00.000-07:00

You have done much to help us move from California, and up here in Idaho as well. Thank You for that. It was generous, and time consuming for you.

So, I have a lot of personal problems - who doesn't ?? One of the one's that I need to get over is expectations of what people should do. Whether people should write, or whether you should contact Mom, is your business. I guess that what I expect, sets me up for being disappointed. Just like your aunt. I'm sure that it would be easier on all concerned if I just let everyone do their thing.

I've been thinking lately about how bad of a father have I really been ? All that I really wanted for you, was to become self reliant, responsible, and hopefully successful, or at least working at something you like with a good future. I may still be able to help both you and your sister with a starter house. Just depends on what you need. Our first house was a "dump", but it was a start. I may be able to help you and your sister get started toward a house of your own. I do not know yet. Either everything will be O.K.financially, or I will be busted.

So, I have made mistakes, and have been very much stressed out and edgy. It's not an excuse, but, it is quite a lot to deal with. I am so very Thankful, that I was able to save some money for your Mom, if she needs it.

I have discussed the past Thanksgiving Fiasco with many friends. All of them would have writen off your aunt and uncle. I believe that your uncle was the real problem now, and he just cannot live without his "dearest" Fred. That is fine and I do not need either of them.

If I ever get out of this "Pickle" that I'm in, there will be a "For Sale" sign here within minutes. I would like Mid Nevada around Gardenerville, ( just East over the mountain from South Shore. Butler lives there and the bicycle riding is Great. )

So, if your hopelessly pissed off at me, you always have your aunt and uncle. If I have the opportunity to move, it will be as quick as is possible, but, all based on what Mom can handle. I am not going to put her though a move while she is sick.

Dad

12.26.2003

2006-09-01T13:45:00.000-07:00

I am Not trying to continue ANY argument or the like. I am absolutely flabbergasted that you have so little regard for your mother, that you could not have called her on Christmas. It really hurt her, not to hear from you. We talked about it at dinner last night.

Yesterday, could well have been Mom's last Christmas. She definetely has "something" going on in her body.The Dr. seemed very specifically interested in her "liver". She seems "Bloated" to me, and her stomach is large and distended. He mentioned a new Biopsy, so, he obviously thinks that there may well be more cancer. I tried to inform you of that.

I can understand that you don't want to talk with me, that is the way it is. Mom is another matter, and she has done nothing to you, but, be your only Mother. I don't "get it" ! But, I do not get most of what you do. Maybe you have "problems "of your own, like possibly drinking too much. I don't know, but, that can really screw a person up. It certainly screwed me up the "second" time I got involved with it, and I shocked myself. If you think that I am a Coward, I'm sorry about that. I have had more adversity in my life than you'll ever have, with both my Mother and Father. So Christmas is history, and maybe shortly, Mom may be history. Once the liver is affected by cancer, a person can be dead in weeks. Mom will receive no treatment for her next bout with cancer. We were told that up front over a year ago. She will be kept "pain free", and she did not want "Chemotherapy". There are many possible outcomes here, BUT, I still do not understand your lack of compassion for your mother.

Even your aunt is smart enough to realize that Jan is blameless, in our friction up here, and bought Mom a present. I helped Mom do the same.

That is how I feel, and I'm sure that I have done little, to make you realize what you mean to Mom. TRY CALLING MOM !!!

Dad

I don't bother to call anymore because I have to go through you to get to her. It's unfortunate you're in the way.

I know you are still abusive to my mother on a daily basis, and I have begun to take direct action for Mom's benefit. My only regret is I did not do this sooner.

You have demonstrated that you are barely able to make any decisions. The past three years have been a disaster and I blame your inability to think sensibly or in a coherent manner. Like Mom, in many ways I believe you are also ill. There is no other explanation. Your actions are erratic and unstable.

From my sister's description of her Thanksgiving visit it seems like you did your best to make her totally miserable and turn the holiday upsidedown. I expected that and I feel wise I didn't make the trip up. The same goes for Christmas, I'm sure you would have done anything and everything possible to fuck it all up for everyone. I've told her I don't think she should visit your house again unless she stays in a hotel and has myself or her husband there with her.

12.25.2003

2006-09-01T13:43:00.000-07:00

I feel like I need to inform you of how Mom is doing. Yesterday we saw her cancer surgeon. Mom lately has lost much ground, has had a bad cough, and is just "out to lunch".

The surgeon apparently found something, mentioned a needle Biopsy, and a couple of other things. Mom has been scheduled for her second Mammogram on 1-12-04. After that, I would expect that we will talk with the surgeon. Mom is getting very sick both mentally and physically. Considering the way she acts, appears to be a little "Bloated", I would not be surprised that the cancer has spread. I do not know that, it is just a feeling. The Dr. also mentioned to me in private, that "WE" would be making decisions for Mom, and her AD would play a part in those decisions. I was told, over a year ago, that if the cancer came back, it was "Terminal".

I'm not trying to create gloom, just informing you about your Mother. It has been very tough these past three years, and I would not wish them on anyone.

Your sister talked with Mom tonight, and said that she sounded "awful". Mom went to bed at about 8:00p.m. Exhausted, mentally shot, etc.

If you send this back, I'll understand. But, I owe you the information on your Mom. Once I get a handle on what is going on, I can plan for Mom's needs.

Dad

12.21.2003

2006-09-01T13:40:00.000-07:00

Was talking with Ron and Ray had mentioned that you both are survivors at Bill and Dave's. That is good. Ray also mentioned something about how good you are, at what you do. That was a nice compliment. Ray and his wife are expecting their second child.

I am taking Mom out for Christmas dinner at her favorite restaurant. I tried to invite a few people over to our house for Christmas dinner, but, most folks have family, and obligations to be with them. So, we are alone for Christmas. I just wish to get past the Holidays, and on with next year.

I have Mom on the new Med from England ( about 6 weeks ) and I see no improvement. She is in a steady decline downhill, and it doesn't seem like anything will stop the degenerative process. The Medication from England is hard to get, and time consuming, and am wondering if I should contiue with it. I don't know. Guess that I will discuss that with her doctor.

I guess that if I could "un do" the tension up here I probably would, however, I was not the one that initiated it, therefore, cannot change it. It would be wonderful to have a "normal" family life like some families enjoy.

I did not send out cards or gifts this year. Just was not in the spirit of Christmas, and looking forward to it's being over. Hope that you have a nice time during the Holidays. I got Mom a very expensive Bracelet from her favorite jewelery maker, and that is her gift this year.

Dad

Neighborhood Exile

2006-08-31T11:52:00.000-07:00

Dad has been digging himself deeper and deeper into trouble with his neighbors. He's frustrated trying to make new friendships with the people that live on his street and I can tell he's getting more angry about it as time passes. It's bad enough Dad acts so weird. Even if he was a super cool guy to hang out with frequently, Mom's condition makes it a little tough to have dinner guests over. I can understand why many people would want to tactfully excuse themselves from Dad's dinner invitations, etc. Can't fault them for that.

Crazed for golf balls, Dad has been sneaking around his neighbor's houses late at night with a flashlight. Apparently he's been hunting in their back yards and snooping around their property with little regard for their privacy. He has no problem walking right up to their windows while waving his flashlight along the ground. That's a bad idea, a bad choice of an evening hobby. At a minimum it could get your ass kicked plus involve the local police. At a maximum it could result in Dad staring down the business end of a gun.

There's an elderly married couple living right next door to my parents. Recently Dad was engaged in his covert late night golf ball retrieval operations when his neighbor's wife spotted someone wandering around on their property with a flashlight. She was brave, she rushed to open a door and stepped outside to confront the unknown intruder. When she began yelling at Dad to get the hell out of their yard and threatened to call the police my father decided it would be cool to yell expletives and insults back at her. I guess they verbally brawled for a few minutes before Dad finally got it into his noggin that it might be best if he went away. Now the neighbors know what he's up to at night and word has spread rapidly on their street. If that police chief Dad was trying to start a fight with finds out about this stuff he's probably going to really fuck Dad up.

My father's version of this story is totally whacked. Believe me, I've heard it over and over more times than I care to count. In his twisted world, he was minding his own business late at night just outside his neighbor's windows on their property looking for stuff that didn't belong to them. That makes perfect sense. How dare they call him names for that! How dare they demand he stays away from their house from now on! Those bastards! Dad doesn't seem to realize how completely fucked up and absurd his recounting of that evening's events sound as he's speaking about it.

Then there's this unhealthy obsession he's got for old clocks...

Couch Potato's Diagnosis

2006-08-29T11:08:00.000-07:00

Yesterday afternoon I called Couch Potato's office and left a message on her answering machine. She returned the call today. After bringing her up to speed about what's been going on at Dad's place in Idaho I asked her a serious question.

"Right now I'm considering going against Dad in court by challenging his power of attorney over Mom. If you were asked to appear in court and testify about Dad, would you be able to do that?"
Couch Potato said, "I will be of no use to you."
"How come?" I asked. "Is it some sort of patient to doctor confidentiality clause or something?"
"Yes."
"Okay. I understand."
She said, "Sounds to me like Mom needs to take a one way trip from Idaho back down here to live with you."
"Yeah. I've been thinking a lot about that lately Couch Potato. But I don't have much room here in my place and I don't have the financial means to take care of her. I'd have to force the issue with Dad in court which brings me right back to square one. She probably would not be able to handle the trip to California anyway because she's in bad shape these days."
"Peasant, I want to tell you something and this is going to be strictly off the record. Okay?"
"Sure."
"My diagnosis of your father is that he's nuts. Insane."
"Really? You're not pullin' my leg are ya?"
Couch Potato replied, "No. And remember, if you need to talk to me don't hesitate to call."

I thanked Couch Potato and said goodbye.

Hearing those words "Your father is insane" was a huge relief. How ironic and strange I felt that way about it. For many years I had suspected Dad suffers from some form of mental illness. Actually getting the straight dope on his condition from a professional psychiatrist changed everything. It reinforced my determination to do something to help my mother.

Now I knew exactly what I was dealing with. I could put his behavior and treatment of Mom in a different perspective. Even though Dad may be incapable of doing any better I was not going to forgive him for what he's done to Mom. This also changed how I felt about my personal dealings with Dad. Most of the time when Dad cut me down and made cheap shots about me I ignored them. After years of hearing the same stupid shit coming out of his mouth it didn't have much of an effect on me anymore. Knowing that he's a definite kook meant that I could instantly disregard anything he says or writes to me from now on. After all, I was doing battle with a crackpot.

Adult Protective Services

2006-08-28T12:47:00.000-07:00

Well, I've done it now. I have crossed a point of no return. This afternoon I made a phone call to the Adult Protective Services of Boise, Idaho and asked them to open an investigation on behalf of Mom. I am fairly nervous about taking this course of action because I don't know what kind of outcome if any will result. But since Dad and I already pretty much hate each other it's not like I have to worry about losing his friendship or anything.

Next up I'm going to schedule some time to talk with a lawyer who specializes in Elder Law, and while I'm at it contact Dad's former psychiatrist. I don't think he ever found out both of us were seeing the same counsellor. That was Couch Potato. She figured it out first and kept quiet. Then by accident I made the peculiar discovery Dad and I were receiving therapy from the same shrink. I mentioned it to Couch Potato during one of my sessions and we had an interesting conversation. Anyway I'm going to ask her if she might be of use to me in court against Dad if things go that far.

The guy I spoke with at Adult Protective Services sounded really old. During our conversation he seemed slightly confused and asked some of the same questions over and over again. His voice had a weezy quality to it. Maybe he was a lifelong smoker. I gave him the details of Mom's situation by describing her deteriorating mental capacity and her other illnesses. Then I began to tell this fellow about Dad's substandard ability to care for her, his increasing isolation of Mom from the rest of us, Dad's increasingly bizarre antics, and his obsession with his bank account.

"Your father is financially paranoid, eh?"

"Absolutely," I said. "All he cares about is himself. Everything is about his retirement and how he will have nothing left in savings after Mom has to go into a nursing care facility. That's all we hear coming from him. I have observed him spending their money freely upon himself whenever he wants something no matter how expensive it is. But when my Mom would like to have something simple like a set of candles he yells at her 'What do you want that crap for?' and she frequently begins to cry. He flatly refuses to hire any part time professional help for in-home assistance so he can get a break. So the strain of trying to do the whole thing on his own is making him more and more of a headcase."

After asking me a lengthy barrage of questions the old man at APS agreed to open an investigation.

"Under Idaho law we won't be able to tell you anything about this case. The only thing we will be able to inform you of is when the investigation has concluded. We will contact you directly."

"Would it be useful for you to speak with my aunt and uncle who live in the local area there, or would you like to speak with my sister?"

"No. That won't be necessary. You can expect to hear from us in coming weeks."

"Okay. So if you don't mind my asking, what typically happens when you initiate an investigation like this?"

The old guy rasped and said, "We will send someone out to their residence to sit down and talk with them. This person will evaluate the situation and inform your parents of resources for assistance and care. Afterwards we make recommendations based upon what we find."

Since we've all repeatedly told Dad about care resources in the Boise area and he's failed to act on any of them I didn't see much good coming out of this. Adult Protective Services handing Dad a bunch of brochures on nursing homes or whatever they were going to dish out wouldn't mean squat. If he wasn't going to take advantage of available help it's just not going to happen under any circumstances.

I said, "You know my Dad has a pretty good front going. He's a decent actor when talking with total strangers."

"Our people are trained to spot that sort of thing and see through it."

Something in the back of my mind told me to doubt that claim.

"Let me ask you another question. Are these recommendations you make during an investigation legally binding?"

"No."

I was stunned. "So what guarantee does anyone have if you decide to intervene on someone's behalf that anything will actually come of it? What if an elder is being physically abused? How do you handle that?"

"If a person is being physically abused then the case is handed over to police and they take it from there. We also give them our recommendations from our investigation."

"But your recommendations are voluntary and not enforced by anyone."

"That is correct."

After I said goodbye and hung up the phone I shook my head. Adult Protective Services didn't have any teeth. I had a bad feeling they weren't going to be of much use or help.

9.29.2003

2006-08-24T11:09:00.000-07:00

Decided to inform you of what's current with Mom.

Cancer: She had a Mammogram ( 1rst since surgery ) on 8-28, and a follow up with her surgeon 5 days ago. That follow up was a physical examination of both breasts for lumps and abnormalities, to include lynph nodes under her other arm. One side has been stripped of lymph nodes.

Her Cancer is very deadly, and has "No Blood Markers". Meaning that they cannot draw blood and tell if it is in her system. She is scheduled for Mammo's and surgeon follow ups, every three months, for a couple of years.

Alzheimer's: This has been especially frustrating to find good medication for. There are only three Meds here, and none of them are a cure, or do much for the symptoms. Mom has been on "All Three", with horrific side effects from two of them.

There is a medication that has been used in Germany for the past ten years or so( Memantine ), and I had made contact with a pharmacy in Hamburg Germany to get this Med for Mom. Memantine, has been the medication of choice in Europe ( Alzheimers ), and does quite a bit more than anything that we have here. I contacted the Pharmaceutical company that will market Memantine here in the U.S.A. ( Forest Pharaceuticals ), as the FDA had not approved it for sale here. This last week, Daryl Wesche, the senior marketing person for Forest, informed me, that they had finally gotten approval from the FDA, but, were waiting for a formal letter. Once that letter is received, Memantine will be available here in the U.S.A. I have a prescription already from our Dr. , and just waiting for the release of the medication. Again, it is no cure. As an example: A woman that could no longer do many things like cook, is back to being able to cook. A great help.

For some unexplained reason, our Dr.s here, are not keeping up with Research Development, and are for the most part ignorant of new but not available drugs. I guess that they do not have time to read up on things.

Mom will be on Memantine along with Reminyl very shortly. Probably within 2 months, maybe sooner. Memantine may buy her some time.

Myriad Pharaceutical: MPC-7869 is a new drug undergoing reasearch by Myriad Pharaceutical in Utah. I contacted them for particulars about this new drug. It appears to even reverse some of the damaging plaque build up in Alzheimer's patients brain. This will be the first drug that might be considered the beginning to a cure. The clinical trials are starting next Fall at San Diego State University. I contacted San Diego State University, and I have Mom enrolled for those trials, however, I am not certain that I wish to put her through what they want to do. Lumbar punctures ( spinal taps ) and the like. The FDA will be screwing around with MPC-7869 for who knows how long. Years ! I was hoping that they would just give Mom some of the drug, but, not so. She would become a Guinea Pig. Not likely !

I have kept our Dr. busy reading up on shit, and he E-Mails me all the time with certain questions about whom to contact for what. I have kept him well informed, and we get along fine. I had Forest Pharaceuticals mail a whole bunch of stuff to him on Memantine, so that he could understand the medication. They checked his credentials first, then mailed him the information.

That is pretty much the whole enchilada on Cancer and Medications. You are now as well informed as I am.

There are other issues with Mom. When to get inside the home help. I would love to get away for a week every now and then, but, you do not understand the situation. At one point your aunt would sort of help out, but, not to my liking. Mom cannot even change TV channels, and she would be leaving Jan alone for much of the day. No Dice. The alternative, is hiring help. Mom has been violently against strangers in the house. A source of argument. So, I am fucked. That's the way it goes.

You expressed better help for Mom - Go for it ! I just will not deal with you know who. She has the brain of a three year old, and that explains why, as a "Woman" she has accomplished nothing . She knows everything, and has done nothing !

I do not wish to fight with you, and have found myself in a difficult position. I guess that I will have to live with those choices and consequences. I do not wish to be screamed at over the phone, nor scream back at someone else. I am 63, and don't have unlimited time. If you choose to come up and see Mom sometime soon, you are welcome. Mom is what's important. Your sister assures me that she is coming up for Thanksgiving, however, I feel that she does not understand how booked the airlines usually are. I will be shocked if she gets a ticket ( which I will pay for - you also, if you wish ).

If you want to talk about something, please call. Mom loves phone calls from you guys.

Dad

Cancer

2006-08-24T10:49:00.000-07:00

Back in August Dad was performing his daily morning routine of getting Mom up and out of bed. While he was helping her get dressed he felt a weird lump on her chest that wasn't there before. During her next doctor's visit Dad made sure to mention the new lump. Mom's doctor had a biopsy performed. She's been diagnosed with breast cancer. This is on top of all her other health problems. Her Alzheimer's is rapidly gaining more ground so Mom is becoming more and more difficult to talk to. She is mentally degrading much faster.

I find myself thinking over and over about how Mom didn't deserve any of this. I wonder when it's going to stop, and what will happen next.

My father continues to ignore the rest of us completely when it comes to advice. He's always combative, his ears are closed. You either agree with him or you are the enemy. I was talking with my uncle about this situation the other day and he told me, "Every attempt to help was taken as he's not doing a good job caring. It's always a negative. Since then he has taken away opportunities to help." For a while now Dad's actions have struck me as he's trying to isolate Mom from the rest of the family. Dad has also been lying to me more often about what he is and is not doing for Mom's care.

Later this week I will be speaking with Adult Protective Services in Boise, Idaho and making an appointment with an attorney who specializes in Elder Law.

Under Pressure

2006-08-22T10:39:00.000-07:00

In any relationship there is always going to be some level of strife. Autumn and I are no exception. Over long periods of time little insignificant nagging problems creep up and you have to work together to find solutions or side step them. You'll put in enough effort to keep an even keel if you care about the person you're involved with.

Autumn has claimed I put her under too much pressure when we're together on weekends. She complained that I never come up with any suggestions for activities, places to see and things to do. Autumn also feels stressed out when we are eating at restaurants because she always picks out what we're going to have. You know, like if we're at a pizza joint what kind of pizza are we going to eat. She's angry about that. I guess her grievances have been brewing for far too long a period of time and now this stuff is a big deal.

Funny thing is, when I used to come up with ideas of things to do on weekends Autumn nearly always shot my suggestions down. Do you want to go to the coast? "No." Do you want to go see a movie? "No." Do you want to go drive over to the city? "No." It is true I'm not a very creative or clever person when thinking of activities. That's something I need to work on. However when someone keeps making suggestions and they consistently get rejected, you eventually just shut up and go with whatever the other person wants to do. To me all that matters is we're spending time together.

Meals are another point of contention. I don't offer any opinions on dinner choices because Autumn seldom seems interested in what looks tasty to me on the menu. So I don't do it anymore. It's cool, I'll eat lots of stuff except for some seafoods and pork. I figure I'm accommodating her cuisine whims and it's all good even if we are served weird shit like eggplant pizza. Autumn doesn't see it as accommodation though. She thinks I'm being unhelpful and apathetic at the dinner table therefore I suck. I know, I'm a bad person.

I'm under constant pressure too. I feel like my main job to is make Autumn happy and I'm failing in that endeavor. Sometimes I'm confused and at a total loss for what it is I should be doing. What is the right thing to say to her in a given situation? How am I supposed to react? I dunno because I'm not a mind reader. Maybe that's how everything keeps getting screwed up. I simply don't have a clue and never did.

Lately Autumn has been hammering on me to get a lawyer and to invoke Adult Protective Services for Mom's benefit. I guess she wants me to challenge Dad's power of attorney. From what little I know about power of attorney it's virtually airtight. Nearly impossible to challenge legally. Adult Protective Services is an unknown. Autumn is backing me into a corner on this issue in particular. I've already got a lot to be stressed out about and I'm definitely losing sleep every night as it is. This week I am trying to pursue both of these fronts just to make Autumn ease up on me. I'm skeptical anything positive will come of it.

9.28.2003

2006-08-21T12:14:00.000-07:00

I apologize for my slip of the tongue regarding your age. I know how old you are, and what day is your birthday. I wonder if you know mine or Mom's ??

Your comment about seeking better medical care for Mom, is spoken in total ignorance. You find her better Medical Care, and I will pay for it. She does not want anyone in our home at present, and has refused the idea repeatedly.

Many of your thoughts are born out of ignorance of this situation, and a lack of contact with Mom. I personally do not want to see you over Thanksgiving. You are full of Bad Information, and , Worse Information.

I am still puzzled by your "hoarding money" comment. Another ignorant statement. Mom does not want anyone in our home. So, if I spend all of our money, and we have no savings, would you be happy then ? Don't say " nice job saving $30,000 Dad". Just for your information, $30,000 is about 6 months of Long Term Health Care. A drop in the bucket.

You and I have had it, and there WILL be one day when you'll regret that.

Dad

Skipping Appointments

2006-08-20T16:42:00.000-07:00

I called Mom's doctor again this week. Her doctor told me something that really disturbed me. Sometimes he runs a little behind schedule because his office ends up slammed with people which obviously happens. If the doctor doesn't get to my parents fast enough, Dad goes into a rage about it in the waiting room and then hauls Mom out of the building before the doctor can intervene. He's impatient so Mom misses her doctor visit because Dad doesn't want to wait. What a fucking asshole. Those are her appointments that are an absolute necessity. Now Dad is screwing that up, too.

Mom's doctor seems like a nice guy. During my phone conversation with him after he mentioned Dad's temper tantrums in his waiting room, he asked me a question. "Why is your father so angry?"

"That's a long story. I think Dad has been mentally unstable his whole life. It's gone undiagnosed and untreated. As years passed he's become more and more messed up. His personality is also a factor. It sucks. Between that and the way he treats people Dad has pretty much driven away anyone who has ever cared about him. He can't figure that out so he's more frustrated. Everyone around him is the asshole. He can't stop and look at himself in the mirror even for a second and consider the majority of his problems might be self inflicted. There are a couple of incidents that helped push him over the edge though, Doc. His Dad killed himself. When emergency workers showed up at their house to take away the body my Pop had to clean up the mess. Grandpa Hal shot himself in the head with a .44. Blew his brains out all over the wall and the ceiling behind where he was sitting. My Dad was 23 years old at the time. I can't imagine what that must have been like for him to deal with.

Hal was a successful advertising executive in San Francisco during the 1950s. He came up with some heavy hitting ad campaigns for canned foods like IXL (later bought out by Nalley) and Fanta soft drinks. Problem was my grandmother thought as long as she had checks in her checkbook that meant they had money. So she kept writing checks all over the place and Hal ended up broke before his next paycheck arrived. That and grandma liked to stay hammered and smash up whatever latest cars they had. That kind of shit drove Hal into frequent brawls with her. Both Hal and my Grandmother were drunks, actually. Hal seemed like he was fun though. I would have liked to have met him.

Another thing that really put the zap on Dad's noggin was his first wife leaving him. Dad got married young. It was the early 1960s and he married a blonde bombshell named Charlie. She was hot. Charlie came from a dirt poor family in Texas. I say dirt poor because her parents lived in a shack with a dirt floor. They had like six or seven daughters and they named 'em all guy names. Harry, Tom, Charlie. Anyway they all ended up being airline stewardesses. After marrying my Dad and moving to San Francisco she got a job as a bank teller in the lobby of the Fairmont hotel. Lounge lizards who were playing the Fairmont usually hit Charlie up. I mean she was smokin'. She posed for Playboy. That also pissed Dad off as you might imagine.

A few times cabs were sent to Dad's place with a dozen red roses in the back seat for Charlie. It was a round trip cab if you catch my drift and that really burned Dad up. Anyway she finally ditched him to marry a rich guy and Dad ended up walking around on the streets of San Francisco going nowhere with a gun in his pocket. I think he had a breakdown then that he never recovered from. I used to feel sorry for him about the whole Charlie thing, but now I think Dad was an asshole to her all the time and it caused her to bail out."

Money Hoarding

2006-08-20T16:07:00.000-07:00

Dad is so fucked up in the head. It's off any kind of measurable scale. In his twisted little nightmare world he'll end up penniless and out on the street homeless any day now thanks to Mom's disease. I'm beginning to wonder who is really ill here, Dad or my Mother. Lately I've been leaning more towards the verdict that Dad is actually the person suffering from mental disability... not Mom. He's become so weird with their cash flow that he won't spend hardly anything for Mom's benefit. Dad seems to have no problem buying expensive crap for himself on a whim whenever he wants to. If Mom wants anything and asks him for it no matter how inexpensive it is, Dad instantly shoots her down and says they can't afford it. Dad is doing the absolute bare minimum to take care of Mom while trying to bullshit the rest of the family into thinking he's going broke taking care of her. I know better.

What my Father doesn't realize is, I am in direct contact with Mom's doctors, my aunt and uncle, and some of their neighbors. I know what is really going on despite his idiotic claims. I've caught him in a number of outright lies already. For now, I haven't said anything to him about that stuff. I'm giving him enough rope to hang himself with. Dad's behavior is becoming more and more sinister. It's like he is deliberately trying to isolate Mom from the rest of us. Every morning Dad wakes her up, throws some clothes on her back and plunks her down in front of the television. Most days she gets fed TV dinners. When he's too lazy to do that he takes Mom out to dive restaurants and hits on waitresses right in front of her. Real class act there. I accused him of hoarding both his and Mom's retirement cash the other day just so he can spend the bulk of it on himself. Here is Dad's bullshit rebuttal.

----------

Had to take Mom out to get dinner, and a few new DVD's that she wanted. About $120 worth of DVD's.

Our financial advisor, thinks that I am doing a great job with the assetts that we have, and with the savings that I have been able set aside. Mom has had incredible medical bills that you know nothing about, and our insurance did not pay all of her bills. Not even close. I have come to the conclusion, that people will have opinions of this and that. What is important, is whom is doing what and who isn't. Whether I am right or wrong, I am alone, and doing the best that I can do. That is the end of the story. All of our bills are paid, up to date, and money set aside for next month. If that makes me subject to scrutiny, as a Money Monger, and "Hoarding Money", than I am guilty as charged, and damn proud of it. I would call it being "Financially Responsible', and staying on top of my fiancial obgligations. I always have, and always will !

I have been "chuckling" all day about the money hoarding thing. I just cannot believe that you came up with that one. Sounds more like something you heard from the 85 pound mouth with one moving part ( tongue ). I remember telling Linda that Jan could spend whatever amount of money she wanted to spend, as we had "Gobs" of money. That of course, almost made her eyes bulge out of her head as she is so cheap.

As I said before, Linda is an information freak, and Gossip is her entire life. So, whatever you tell her about us, will feed her for quite some time. I don't give a shit.

Just stop and think about this. If I were not watching out for both Mom and myself, who would ??

Sorry, but your criticizm is not on my agenda. Future messages will be canned.

Dad

Blackout

2006-08-16T09:05:00.000-07:00

Autumn had some friends of hers over for dinner the other night. Her guests were an older couple whom I've met before. Nice enough people. Arriving at Autumn's apartment a few hours before dinner was to be served, the four of us sat down in the living room for idle chit chat. I don't know how we got on the subject now or who was the responsible individual for starting it, but we talked about where each of us had lived and where we were from. I began telling them about my family. Both sides were long time residents of San Francisco. My grandfather Hugo owned three pharmacies and two drug research laboratories in the city. He apparently invented some of the first kinds of chewable vitamins and a kind of lotion to help with poison oak infections. By the time of his death in the early 1950s he was a very wealthy man. My mother went to private Catholic schools in the city exclusively from a young age. By the 1960s San Francisco had changed so much neither side of my family wanted to live there anymore so they all bailed out.

One of Autumn's dinner guests was particularly interested in knowing more about my Mom. She too went to a private Catholic school in San Francisco during the 1950s and she had a best friend with the same name as Mom.

I damn near fell out of my chair.

After giving this woman more details she was certain my mother was a long lost childhood friend. I couldn't be so sure. The only thing I could think of was to put her on the phone with my Mom's sister which I did. The two of them talked on the phone for a good half hour or so. When the call finished she was certain Mom had been the friend she thought of from so long ago.

Man, can my life be any more weird and fucked up than it already is? I mean what are the odds of shit like this happening?

Pleasant conversation continued on into the evening but I wasn't paying attention. Memories came flooding back into the forefront of my mind. Things that I had been trying to suppress. Family problems, Mom's terminal illness, Dad's mistreatment of her, all these things surged up uncontrollably. Dwelling on my family problems made me feel terribly depressed.

I started drinking. There were two bottles of good red wine on the table. I slammed glass after glass automatically until...

Looking up from Autumn's dinner table I noticed all four place settings had been cleared. There was no food, no guests. I glanced outside through the kitchen window. Pitch black. Last time I looked out there it was still daylight. Over my shoulder I saw the entire kitchen had been spotlessly cleaned. Dishes, pots, and pans were put away. Confused, I sluggishly turned my head to the left. Autumn was standing in the doorway between her bedroom and the living room staring at me. She was in her bathrobe. Her unflinching gaze was icy cold and filled with hate. It made me feel like trash.

Slightly hunched over in my chair at the dinner table I tried to speak. Autumn cut me off. Glaring with pure anger she said, "You were rude to my guests. I'm going to bed."

"I... wait... what happened?"

Autumn quickly turned around and shut the door behind herself.

Evidently I had done something bad. Whatever my transgressions were I no idea because of an alcohol induced blackout. That has never happened to me before. I couldn't think. Nothing made any sense. All I knew was, Autumn hated me and my presence wasn't wanted. I stood up to discover I had trouble keeping my balance. Staggering out of her apartment I managed to make it to my car.

The distance between Autumn's apartment and my house is slightly over fifty miles. I don't remember anything from the drive home.

When I finally woke up late in the afternoon I was severely hung over. Worried that I had done something horrible I called Autumn. She was very cold talking to me over the phone. She said my crimes included interrupting her guests as they were trying to talk, and shooting down their topics of conversation. I did not however call anyone an expletive, throw food in anyone's face, or flip anybody off. So I was just an annoying drunk. Embarrassing, sure. Do I owe her guests an apology? Probably. But did I deserve that kind of treatment from Autumn for my slip up? Driving home that night I could have easily wrecked my car and killed someone. At a minimum I could have ended up in the pokey facing a fat juicy DUI rap.

I feel like my girlfriend doesn't have much compassion or understanding for me anymore.

Menace On The 8th Hole

2006-08-15T12:29:00.000-07:00

The afternoon I was moving my parents into their new home, Dad took me for a quick tour around the house. As we were walking through the back yard Dad started laughing. He was pleased with himself. He said, "I chose this lot because we'll never get hit with golf balls here. Heh heh heh." I don't care where you live on a golf course, your house is gonna get pelted with golf balls. I know this, and if I were to buy a home it would not be anywhere near a golf course because I personally have a problem with that. Dad scoffed at me like I was a dunce when I suggested his house is most definitely going to take a few hits.

Their house backs up against a fairway on the 8th hole. My aunt and uncle live in the same subdivision just a few blocks away.

Inevitably, Dad's house did in fact start taking direct hits from hapless golfers. The first few times it happened Dad ran outside within seconds of hearing a golf ball impact somewhere on his house, found the offending ball, and waited there until a player came looking for it. As soon as that golf ball's owner arrived Dad instantly gave him or her lip and glared at them with anger. Later, one of his windows got broken if I remember right and everything worsened. From that point on if a golfer came anywhere near the house and Dad saw them through a window he would be outside in a blink of an eye screaming at them. Most of the time when Dad freaked out on players they weren't even looking for a lost ball. They were simply walking past his house minding their own business. That was ironic since Dad had been caught numerous times by his neighbors sneaking around outside their houses late at night with a flashlight looking for stray golf balls to confiscate. It was scaring some of the elderly people living on my father's street.

People being people, word quickly got out through the neighborhood about Dad's bad behavior. It even got back to the golf clubhouse. Players who had been yelled at by Dad would return to the clubhouse and complain about "that bastard on the 8th hole." Frequently my uncle would go on the course to play a round of golf with a good buddy of his and they'd be joined up with another player or two that they didn't know. When they started to play the 8th hole strangers that my uncle had been hooked up with would begin to make wisecracks about the "asshole that lives over there" and point at Dad's place. "You'd better not hit that guy's house. He's a real mother fucker." My uncle's friend would usually wait until they were just about finished playing the hole and then he'd say to the group, "You know, it's a shame your brother in law lives there." He'd laugh to himself while watching embarrassed strangers trying to apologize to my uncle for their rude remarks. Heh. My uncle didn't care.

Dad unknowingly is now a marked man in his neighborhood. During one of his latest episodes hassling a particular golfer he became so rowdy that this player almost punched the living daylights out of Dad. As it happens, the player who was nearly going to beat my father's ass is the police chief of their town. The police chief was so infuriated with Dad that he commented afterwards in the clubhouse "I'm gonna remember that guy, and I know where he lives."

Nice work, Dad.

Double Agent

2006-08-14T17:42:00.000-07:00

Autumn has started playing on both sides of the fence, like a cold war era double agent loitering around Checkpoint Charlie.

Recently she asked me how I would feel if she started communicating directly with my Dad via email. That question made the hair on the back of my neck bristle. Dad has been attempting to ruin my relationships and friendships since I was in high school. I learned early on that it was an especially bad idea to let him have much contact if any with girls I was dating. At a minimum, if he was able to talk with them while I wasn't around he'd say shit about me to my girlfriend. Dad would tell them I'm an idiot and a bum. He was trying to fuck things up for me and he succeeded on a few occasions.

I don't want Autumn to have anything to do with Dad because I don't trust him, I know better. Dad is a total headcase right now. You wouldn't believe some of the shit he's doing to his neighbors let alone my Mom and other relatives. Dad's gone entirely insane.

Unfortunately Autumn won't listen to me, she doesn't care about my opinions or feelings. So if I tell her I'm not cool with this and say "Please don't write to Dad," we'll have an argument about it and Autumn will go ahead and do what she wants. In a feeble attempt to avoid any further strife I told Autumn I didn't care and left it at that. I was convinced she was going to start emailing him whether I gave my permission or not anyway. She's absolutely stubborn, a woman who wants her cake and eats it too in every possible situation.

This is going to further complicate things and cause me more trouble. I just know it. I feel like Autumn is meddling in my family matters that she shouldn't be. I'm also having doubts about trusting her. There isn't much I can do about it for now. I'll have to wait and see...

9.13.2003

2006-08-14T10:14:00.000-07:00

"I did not care for your phone call today. You don't have the slightest clue about what you speak."

Incorrect. My sister and I have a very clear picture of what's going on there. You just don't like hearing the truth. Too bad.

"Almost every day is devoted solely to your mother. One problem after another, one appointment after another, non stop. Medical Insurance problems, Life Insurance problems, bills up the ass."

So, deal with it. We keep hearing about it non stop right? Get some part time in home care to help with Mom. As I've said before and I'll say it again it isn't that hard. In fact I know you had a pretty sweet deal for a part time nurse recently and you deliberately sabotaged it. What the fuck were you thinking?

"We cannot travel, as we went to Calif recently, to see some old friends. Jan awoke ( crying ) at 3:00 am and wanted to go home. So much for our trip."

You should have known better. Mom needs to feel safe and secure and she confuses easily. Going on a road trip like that was dumb.

"You make one phone call, catch her crying, and raise hell with me. Well, why don't YOU take care of her for a couple of years, and lets see how you do."

Keep emotionally and mentally abusing my mother and that might come to pass... on your dime.

"What we have here, is a very sick woman, and her need for absolutely everything to be done for her. She has no need for a husband, just someone to attend to her needs."

Again incorrect. She has an overwhelming need for a husband who can step up and deal with her illness and make good sensible decisions. So far I've been observing a serious deficiency in that department.

"I would be very happy if I never ever saw Linda again, and I am aware that Jan needs or likes to see her."

Linda isn't a bad person. You just don't like her because she never puts up with your bullshit. Why don't you just drop the Linda-hating act ok? It solves nothing and to be honest nobody cares.

"I could go on and on, but the real truth is that you are incredibly ignorant of how difficult caring for Jan is."

Ah, yes. The classic Dad 'you just don't understand' line. I knew that was coming up again soon. Always does. Guess what? YOU don't understand. Everyone else does. Stop and consider that for a moment, if you can.

"Save your criticizm for someone else. If YOU can do a better job, then step up to the plate."

See my comment above, stupid.

Okay. So, the bottom line. I'm getting very very tired of your antics.
1) Get part time in home care for Mom.
2) Stop creating more friction between yourself and Linda and Larry.
3) Get some counseling for yourself from a psychiatrist. You clearly need it.

9.12.2003

2006-08-14T10:04:00.000-07:00

Looks like my sister has finally had enough of Dad's bullshit, too. She just forwarded this to me. After reading it I thought she did a pretty good job. The bummer is, I could have used some backup like this last year and the year before. Sigh...

----------

Hi Dad. All I asked you to do was not put Mom in the middle of your war with Linda. She can't handle the stress. It's a pretty simple request. If you want to act like a child and demand property back from Linda, do it yourself. I asked you to refrain from the constant stream of obscenities that come from your mouth regarding Linda. Hearing how upset it makes her should be enough to make you be the bigger person here. I think it's time you spent less energy on hating Linda, and more on making Mom feel safe. I'm not trying to judge you. I realize that you feel burdened with Mom's care. However, every time I make a suggestion on ways to cope with some of your problems, you shoot them down in the most negative manner. Your life is only as miserable as you make it. If you moved to Idaho to save some money, why don't you spend some of it on part-time assisted care for Mom? I'll keep saying it until you start doing it. Anyway, I don't want to start my own war with you. I'm probably one of the only people left that will talk to you. I apologize for some of my language, but not my sentiment. Do not ask Mom to conduct your war with Linda. Do not make her feel bad when she spends time with Linda. And above all, do not take this out on Mom. It's not her fault. She has a disease. What's your excuse?

7.31.2003

2006-08-13T12:59:00.000-07:00

Thanks for telling Dad how it is. I completely agree with and support everything you said to him. Sadly, this dialogue will not accomplish much. Dad is crazy and will never change. He desperately needs counselling. Anyway, I talked to Mom last night, and she sounded pretty bad. She said her stomach is finally feeling better because of some new medication, and she was happy about that. She also wants to know if you've still got your job or if you've been laid off. I will do the same as you in the future, and respond to Dad's disgusting emails with contempt. I've been ignoring them for too long. I'm going out of town today, and won't be back until Tuesday. I'll call you when I get back.

7.23.2003

2006-08-13T10:58:00.000-07:00

I wish that you had some idea of how helpful it would be, for me to have regular conversations with you. Guess, it ain't gonna happen.

We left on our first trip yesterday, to Mt Lassen, and an old Fireman "Buddy". Your mother woke up at about 3:00am this morning "sobbing" that she wanted to go home. We had lots of things planned, and it all went right into the shitter. All that I could think about on the way home ( 500 miles - was divorce ). So we are home, had an absolutely "FUCKED" time, and so on. I an going to try and get away by myself somehow, then on my return, am going to see an Attorney. I've had it ! She's drowning, and wants to take me down with her. It will cost me everything that I own, but, at least I will not be a candidate for the "Boobie Hatch" !

I am sorry that we cannot stay in touch.

Dad

I fucking told you not to take Mom on any long roadtrips. She needs to feel safe and secure, driving around for hundreds of miles would be scary and confusing to her. You didn't listen, so this is what you get. I have no sympathy for you there. And I'm angry you put her into a situation like that.

I think it's absolutely ludicrous you have even thought of divorce once let alone multiple times, with your wife being as ill as she is. You are a poor caregiver to Mom. Period. Everything is always about you and your money. I think that if the roles were reversed with you being the one with Alzheimer's, Mom would have done a much better job caring for you. You take every insignificant thing personally, as if it has been deliberately done to anger you. I don't understand this.

For some reason you decided to move out of state. I suspect you did this not solely for the property value in the Boise area. My feeling is you moved up there hoping to use Linda and Larry as cheap babysitters for Mom. And you're pissed off because that didn't go as planned. If you had stayed here in town you would have had much more support from friends and family. Rent your place out up there and come back. It's not too late.

You know what you could have and should have done by now. I'll risk sounding like a broken record:

1) Seek professional part time help in looking after Mom. You can get a break and go do things you want to do. 2) Seek full time care for Mom in a nursing home. It's inevitable this will be a necessity in the near future.

Is it that difficult?

Have you ever thought about the many years that we were there, and hardly ever saw you ?? The last few months that we were home, we still seldom saw you. I think that you were VERY selfish with your time, and not much of a son to your mother.

Maybe I'm not a great Care Giver, I don't know. I am doing the best that I can. The $$$$ money is solely for your mother's welfare, and I am saving every penny that I can. It will be spent on her, and I will have nothing at the end of this ordeal. Am I at fault for that also ??

As usual, I do not expect to hear from you, or see you. For a man of 36 years, you are very wise, and have accomplished much. If there was an "Oscar" for video games you would win hands down. As for being a caring son to your mother, you'd be on the "Gong Show" !

There will be no more messages !

You don't have a leg to stand on. You're going to divorce your wife because she's sick and in the same breath try to lecture me about not calling my mother on the phone. If I am a bad son, you are a totally shitty husband.

Okay, so you're saving $2,000 a month and you have been for a while. Gee, thats great. Where's the part-time in home care for Mom? Oh, that's right. There isn't any. But, we DO have close to 20 radio controlled planes in the garage. That makes it all better. Now let's see. There's this problem of being able to go fly them because there isn't anyone to watch your sick wife. Maybe a part time nurse would be the answer? Nope. You don't want any help. You've got it all figured out... good luck, chump.

You have made bad decision after bad decision compounding your situation. None of it was necessary in my view. You made things hard on yourself, definitely hard on Mom, and a pain in the ass for a lot of other people along the way. I don't expect this will change anytime soon. You continue to be emotionally and verbally abusive to Mom. We've all noticed it, we've all talked to you about it. At this point I think you simply aren't capable of doing anything better. It's a real shame.

Oh and by the way, I'm not 36.

You really set me off when you called me a "poor Care Giver",or whatever the term was. I am the ONLY person doing anything for Mom. All Linda wants is information, and has nothing to do with Mom. She will get nothing from me, so that she can gossip.

I expect that you are mad at me, and I do not need it. I am on the brink, of being able to control my emotions as it is.

I have found that sharing my feelings with others has brought me nothing but grief and criticism. I will share no more. No one wants to hear it anyway. This is my journey, and I will have to do it alone, and to the best of my ability.

I have not read your last two E-Mails, and don't want to as I don't want the aggravation, if they are negative.

I am sorry for losing my temper, but, you really don't understand at all, what I am dealing with. You may think that you do, but, you don't.

The E-mail stuff is over, and I expect that hearing from you will be sparse. It is a shame that Mom doesn't hear from you more often, but, that's the way it is.

Talked with your sister last night, and they are going to come up during the Holidays. Looking forward to that.

Take care of your own life and problems, and I wish you well.

Dad

"I am sorry for losing my temper, but, you really don't understand at all, what I am dealing with. You may think that you do, but, you don't."

Incorrect. You have been telling people your whole life "they don't understand." It is yourself who does not understand. The rest of us understand everything quite well. You don't have the world figured out. You don't have the answers. If you did, your life situation would be much more pleasant by now.

I am losing my patience with you.

Ye Of Little Faith

2006-08-11T12:13:00.000-07:00

Autumn called me earlier this evening. As soon as I picked up the phone and heard her voice I knew something was wrong. There was a slight tremble to her words, she was upset. Autumn had been acting strange for quite a while. I couldn't understand why and it made me nervous. She said she had something important to talk to me about. I told her I was listening.

She started to choke up like she was on the verge of tears. Then she said, "I feel like you have abandoned your mother... and... if I get sick... you'll do the same thing... to me." Autumn lost it. She began to cry.

Sitting on the edge of my bed it finally was dawning on me what was going on. I began to understand why she had been acting so weird. Autumn had been dwelling on my mother's illness and the way Dad had continued to mistreat Mom. Somehow, Autumn was turning the whole situation around so that it was all about herself. I couldn't believe it. What kind of completely fouled up logic is that? Staring at the wall, another realization hit me. This one hit me hard and it hurt bad. Like taking a strong punch to the chest I felt as if the wind had been knocked right out of me.

I was having trouble breathing.

What Autumn was really saying, what she was telling me quite clearly is that she had no confidence or faith in me at all. She was telling me that I'm just like my Dad. Pain welled up throughout my whole body. I never have felt so low in my life. I am nothing like my father. If I had a wife that was suffering from disease I would do everything in my power to help her, unconditionally. I would do the same for Autumn no matter what. Apparently she didn't think so.

Autumn had almost no understanding of my family problems. My mother was terminally ill. There was little I could do about that. Mom was living hundreds of miles away with a man who didn't care about her. There was little I could do about that, either. My shithead of a father had de-facto power of attorney over every aspect of Mom's life. Everything went through him first. What the fuck was I supposed to do? I couldn't go kidnap Mom and bring her back to live with me. I didn't have the space in my house nor did I have the financial means to support her. Knowing this made no difference. Autumn wouldn't listen to anything I could think of to say. She already made up her mind and talking about it won't solve a damn thing. I've been painted into a corner I can't escape from.

I told Autumn what I thought she wanted to hear. I would do whatever she suggested as long as it made her happy. That's all I cared about, really. It's the only thing that matters. I desperately needed Autumn's approval and acceptance.

After hanging up the phone I continued to sit on the edge of my bed for a long time with my face in my hands.

Imbecile Relocation Program: Part Four

2006-08-11T11:46:00.000-07:00

Dad was unusually quiet all morning. We had loaded a large yellow rental truck with everything from the apartment. His early 1950s Chevy pickup truck was secured with chains to a flatbed car carrying trailer. As the two of us were at the rental truck's trailer hitch making sure both safety chains were locked in place, Dad said in a low voice, "I'm sorry about last night." Then he stood up and walked away. I could tell from the way he made his apology it was purely superficial, hollow. It didn't mean a damn thing.

The drive from town to Winnemucca, Nevada was long but uneventful. We stayed over night at a Motel 6 and continued driving the next day through desert into Eastern Oregon then we hooked over into Southern Idaho. Dad refused to use directions my aunt and uncle gave him. Once we arrived in the Boise area he managed to get us so completely lost that it took an extra hour and a half to find his neighborhood.

My uncle Larry met us at the house. He brought along Mom. Not five minutes into unloading the truck, Dad yelled at her and she started to cry. I caught up with him in the master bedroom. No one was within earshot so I pointed a finger up into his grill and I said, "If you do that one more time while I'm here you're gonna be laying on the ground looking up at me. Got that?" I was serious. Dad was long overdue for a KO.

Continuing to be a chicken with it's head cut off Larry and I kept tripping over Dad. He was being a nuisance. My uncle Larry is wise, he skillfully got Dad out of our hair by asking him if he needed to make any phone calls. After thinking about it for a minute Dad took Larry's cell phone and disappeared. Larry and I were standing at the back of the rental truck. As soon as Dad split, Larry looked me in the eye with a smile on his face and said, "That oughtta keep him busy for a while. Let's do some movin'." He slapped me on the shoulder and I laughed like hell. Well played.

Later that afternoon the contractor who built my parents' house dropped by. I'd heard Dad really made his job unpleasant and I felt bad about it. He seemed like a nice enough fellow. I told him, "My father is a very difficult person to deal with. I'm aware he gave you a hard time and I just wanted to thank you for handling it. Also, I'd like to apologize for the way he treated you." The contractor nodded and didn't say much. I think he wanted to say something, but thought twice about it. He was probably just being professional.

Flying home to California a couple of days later I felt like I had finally reached a light at the end of a long, dark tunnel.

Imbecile Relocation Program: Part Three

2006-08-11T10:51:00.000-07:00

Dad was standing in his apartment's kitchen. Glaring at me he snarled, "You're a drunk."

I am not a drunk. I wasn't drunk. In fact I hadn't had a beer all day. Ignoring him, I continued jamming things into boxes and securing the lids with packing tape. Being the unorganized oaf that he is Dad didn't have anywhere near enough boxes on hand for the move to Idaho. Mumbling another insult at me I decided enough was enough. Standing up I turned around and walked from his living room to the kitchen. I got in his face. "There is something you haven't been able to figure out because you're so fucking stupid. You need me. I don't need you. I don't have to be here, I don't have to help you. So why are you constantly fucking with me? Get that through your noggin you asshole."

Slamming the door behind me I walked down flights of stairs to ground level. Wandering through a maze of apartment buildings I eventually found my way out to the parking lot. It was late at night. Early tomorrow morning we were supposed to leave for Idaho. I seriously considered ditching out on Dad. I mean, fuck him. I have stuck with him for months and all he's been doing the whole time is cut me down. But then I thought if I can somehow make it through the next two days my father will be far away and I won't have to deal with him anymore if I don't want to.

My car took me to a nearby grocery store like it was on autopilot. I went inside to their produce department. I found a clerk and asked him for as many apple and banana boxes as he could scrounge. He was a nice guy, I ended up with a little over a dozen apple boxes. They are sturdy and most excellent for moving purposes. After loading them into my car I drove home to try and get some sleep.

Imbecile Relocation Program: Part Two

2006-08-11T10:26:00.000-07:00

Just a few weeks after moving my parents' stuff out of storage I found myself standing in front of the house I grew up in. This day would be one of the last I ever spent inside it.

Neurotic as hell, my father had rented a tiny U-Haul truck and expected me to help him move into an apartment. Instead of renting a large moving van or preferably a big truck he chose one of the smallest moving vehicles U-Haul has to offer. Making matters worse, each load we took to the apartment only filled about one-third of the moving vehicle's capacity. We made trip after trip back and forth between the house and apartment. It was totally unnecessary.

That day my father worked me to the bone for nearly twelve hours and didn't even buy me lunch. Autumn was kind enough to stay with my mother to keep her company. Dad wouldn't dare yell at her with Autumn around. He only does that when I'm there because I don't matter. This was no way for Autumn to be spending her weekend. I felt really awful about it while dealing with Dad's bullshit all day long.

Near sunset I was exhausted. The muscles in my arms were wiped out. I could barely carry anything heavier than a book. Hours earlier I told Dad that I was done for the day, but he kept pushing me. "Just one more trip." He said. That was like three or four moving van loads ago. Finally, he roped me into helping him carry a large wooden antique hutch that was part of my great grandparent's dining room set down the front steps to the driveway. I told Dad multiple times I probably wasn't going to be able to lift it because I was too tired. He didn't listen to me. So, we got about halfway down, both my arms gave out, and the hutch tumbled end over end until it hit the concrete driveway and splintered. It was ruined.

Imbecile Relocation Program: Part One

2006-08-10T17:50:00.000-07:00

Dad sold his place. He took the first and only bid offered on the house which was very low. Dad did this against his real estate agent's advice and knowing full well that his new home in Idaho won't be finished for another six months. Now he has a deadline to meet for moving out. His kooky plan will require me to move some of his stuff to an apartment across town, most of my parents personal belongings in and out of storage facilities, and then finally move him to Idaho. What fun.

Unaware that Dad had already taken some items into storage he called me up the other day to help him start the move. I met him along with one of his close friends from the firehouse, a really nice guy named George. George is such a good guy I've never really understood why he's been hanging around with Dad. Also, another of Dad's friends showed up with his grandson to help out. Very nice of them. That's Ron and Raygun. Raygun coincidentally works on my old instrument line as a technician at Bill and Dave's. Small world, huh?

We took separate vehicles to a storage company downtown and met up in front of what turned out to be one of three storage units Dad had rented. None of them were located next to each other, they were scattered across the storage yard. Dumb. What we were supposed to do was clear out his storage units so he can drive one way to Boise in a big ass truck and then put all this crap into storage there. Does that make any fucking sense? I don't think so.

Everything went okay for a little while. George, Ron, Raygun, and myself stayed busy loading Dad's rental truck. I was confident all of us were doing a good job packing everything in tight so furniture wouldn't break loose during the trip. Dad was pretty much useless and kept getting in our way. Then he decided it was time to flip his "fuck with people who are helping me" switch to the ON position.

As I was carrying boxes up the ramp into that truck I happened to look over my shoulder at just the right moment. Dad grabbed items I had just packed on board and he brought them back off the truck. I was like, WTF? He didn't say anything to me about it so I went over to the box he snagged, picked it up, and put it exactly where I wanted it in his giant moving truck. He was watching me. When I stepped off the loading ramp Dad hooked me by my right arm and dragged me off to the side where none of the guys could see what was happening.

Grinding his teeth with anger he said, "That isn't a priority. It stays here."
"Dad, you don't seem to get it. You're moving. That means if there is room on the truck it goes."

He let go of my arm and stormed away.

I walked into his nearby storage unit, picked up another box and placed it on the truck. Dad quickly stomped up the loading ramp and hauled that box out. I lifted a spare wheel for his trailer up and pushed that into the truck. Dad immediately threw it back into the storage unit. Again he grabbed me by the arm and this time he yelled at me in front of the guys. "You did that just to fuck with me!" He was on the verge of a total rage. Ron, George, and Raygun all stopped what they were doing to stare at us standing eyeball to eyeball next to the loading ramp. I told Dad the same thing like a broken record. "You're moving. If there's room it goes on the truck. Simple, isn't it?" George and Ron were inside near the cab securing some large items with heavy canvas straps. I heard some snickering. Dad became even more mad.

Hour after miserable hour passed slowly. Dad expanded his retarded antics to the point that Ron and George were making fun of him. He was removing stuff they were loading onto the truck, too. That was pissing them off. I was glad for once that people outside of my immediate family were seeing for the first time what a total moron Dad really is. Nobody ever believed me in the past when I told them stories about how my father treats people. They always think I'm making shit up. Dad truly is a nutjob. No thanks to him we eventually finished loading that monster of a truck and called it a day.

A Simple Rule

2006-08-10T16:59:00.000-07:00

Things between Dad and I have become increasingly strained. He's in a total freak-out panic mental rut. Right now he's retiring a few years early from his job as a fireman in San Francisco. It's because of Mom's illness. Financially paranoid and having failed to plan adequately for retirement years he's banking on his pension and selling his home here to buy a place out of state. Boise, Idaho is where he's decided to go. About two years ago I helped move my aunt and uncle to the Boise area. Real estate is inexpensive almost anywhere you go outside of California so Dad is counting on making a fat stack of cash from their house sale and pocketing the remaining money to live off of after relocating. Secretly I think Dad is hoping to use my aunt and uncle as babysitters to look after Mom because he's too cheap to hire professional help. That's the only reason why he's chosen the Boise area.

Being the unstable psychopath that he is, Dad is bungling almost every aspect of his retirement and move out of state. He's his own full time worst enemy. So far he's been screwing over his real estate agent here, fucking with the prime contractor who is custom building a home for my parents near Boise, jerking around his real estate agent in Idaho, and he's making my life a living hell. Dad constantly calls me up at odd hours day or night to bitch about everything. When he isn't complaining about the most insignificant shit he spends his time hurling insults at me. I'm a rotten son. I'm an idiot. To be honest I don't know how much more of this I will be able to take before I snap and start throwing punches. That's how bad it's getting. You know, there's a pretty simple rule in life that Dad hasn't learned yet. That rule is: don't fuck with the people you have to depend upon.

My stupid little sister is nowhere to be found even though she lives nearby in Oakland. I can't expect to receive any help or support from her.

Beating the shit out of Dad is sounding better and better every day. He goes out of his way to rage at Mom for no reason at all. It's cruel. Mom ends up wandering off in the house to go cry. I hate seeing that. Threatening Dad with a broken jaw only gets his attention for a few minutes. He'll knock it off for a short period of time and then he's right back at it again like nothing happened. Fucker.

To make matters even more stressful, Autumn has been acting really strange lately. Managing stress is not one of my better skills. I haven't been able to figure out why she's being weird but it's got me seriously worried. Usually I can tell what is bothering her. I know Autumn too well. Most of the time when I sense she is angry or upset for some reason I can talk to her about it and try to find a solution. She's keeping quiet. That's a really bad sign.

No Mustangs

2006-08-10T13:48:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been thinking about getting an old classic car of some kind for weekends and a few roadtrips only. Something fun, something that won't ever be my primary transportation. I really like stuff from the 1950s-1960s era although I've never actually owned any kind of a fifties hotrod. Growing up around old muscle cars I have come to the realization that I will never be able to get my fascination with vintage autos out of my system.

Now isn't the time to be buying another car, but I have been pondering what I might like to pick up. I'd also want to get something cool that Autumn would enjoy. It would be fun to have a burly hotrod to drive around with her on back roads when we spend time together during weekends. For some reason 1964-1966 Mustangs have been stuck in my mind as a potential candidate.

This past weekend Autumn and I were walking into the house from the garage and I popped the question to her. "Hey Aut, I was thinking about sometime in the future buying another classic old car for us to goof around in. What do you think of Mustangs? You like 'em?"

Autumn looked at me and flatly said, "No."

Surprised, I asked why. What was it about them that she didn't like? She didn't really have an answer for me. I said, "Do you not like the way they look or something?" I got the feeling from her roundabout response that was it. She didn't like the body style, but she just didn't care for them in general. Hmmmm.

Well, I guess THAT idea is out the window.

Customer Simulation Tyrants

2006-08-10T12:16:00.000-07:00

I was talking to some of our Button Up guys the other day about how things were going on the back end of the line. Working as much as I do between the environmental lab and our chamber area I don't see the light of day anymore. I had no idea what was happening out on the shop floor with regards to regular production stuff.

Apparently now that Customer Simulation is a full fledged department there have been a bunch of conflicts and problems. With the exception of one or two people, most of of their screening staff in Customer Sim was made up of employees who weren't useful on their instrument lines. They're dregs. People who just can't get along with others and or are shoddy workers. Some of them are using their position in Customer Sim to fuck with people they personally don't like back in their old areas. In some cases our Button Up guys told me Customer Sim staff are deliberately sending units back to the instrument lines that don't have any problems. Units that essentially don't have any electrical malfunctions or anything wrong cosmetically. It's become somewhat of a power struggle, a pissing contest.

Meanwhile instruments that need to ship out to customers are becoming increasingly late. We're missing shipment commitments. That's no good.

A few of the Customer Sim people are becoming tyrants. They're rejecting most of the work they see on a daily basis for petty reasons. When employees from each production line go into their Customer Sim area to pick up supposedly broken instruments and fix them, arguments are starting. It's wasting more of everyone's time. Line supervisors are having to make personal appearances to sort things out. To an extent some of those managers are being dragged into the verbal mayhem. It's so stupid. None of this would be necessary if we still had veteran workers inspecting finished instruments before they leave production lines for shipment.

Apple Cores And ESD Shoes

2006-08-10T12:00:00.000-07:00

Shitfoot is a pretty fuckin' funny dude. I really like working with him.

Nobody around here thinks much of Greasy Guy. I particularly dislike him and I'm vocal about it. I try to be up front about that though so instead of just talking shit behind Greasy Guy's back I choose to beat him down in person, to his face. At first I had hoped ripping him up all the time might actually help motivate him to get his act in order but as time passed that hope faded from view.

If there was one person here who can't stand Greasy Guy even more than I do, it would have to be Shitfoot. I don't know why. Maybe they had a brawl of some kind or other that I am unaware of. Perhaps it's simply a clash of personalities. Anyway, the past few nights at work Shitfoot and I have been hanging out in my cubicle eating our lunches. Shitfoot usually eats an apple or two with each lunchtime meal. When he's finished with each apple and there's nothing left but a mangy core instead of tossing them into the trash can he's been jamming them up into the toe of Greasy Guy's ESD shoes. Fucking cracks me up. By the time Greasy Guy returns from Malaysia those apple cores will have become thriving communities of insects.

I will be blamed for it, of course.

Talking one evening about Shitfoot's propensity for clever, malicious practical jokes, he told me a story about a guy he used to work with at a diesel repair company. Someone made Shitfoot so angry that he found a dead mouse and placed it in the hood of this person's sweatshirt. I guess he wore the same sweatshirt every day and never washed it. After a time that dead mouse he was carrying around with him began to stink badly. Everybody in the shop thought that guy never bathed or something. Hilarious.

I need to remember to always stay on Shitfoot's good side.

Cleaning The Cube

2006-08-09T15:05:00.000-07:00

Smoke Jumper dropped by my cubicle this afternoon to inform me of a customer tour that was going to take place in a day or so. I didn't have much of a reaction, we have tours from high profile customers frequently. Nothing new there. Before Smoke Jumper left he looked over towards Greasy Guy's half of the cubicle. On his desk there was a mountain of broken PC boards mixed with a spaghetti weave of various cables. Not a single cable was usable. One end was completely cut off or had a fray of loose wires poking out on every single one of 'em. There were mangled sections of aluminum instrument sub-frames, and broken hard drive cylinder heads. Buried deep underneath containers of wasted microcircuits there was a few plastic to-go boxes with half eaten meals still in them. They were weeks old and had turned into thriving mold colonies.

Towering over Greasy Guy's junk pile like a miniature skyscraper was a pyramid of empty soda cans.

Pointing at that Sanford and Son graveyard of useless crap Smoke Jumper said, "You need to clean that up before the tour comes through here."

I scowled and almost yelled at him. "Why do I have to clean up his shit? It's his mess!"

"Greasy Guy is going to be in Malaysia for the rest of the month. Just get rid of it, okay?"

Fuck. I'm always cleaning up after that bastard whether he's here or not. This sucks. I decided not to screw around with the whole deal. I was going to turn both keys and press the shiny red button. Greasy Guy's side of the cube needed to be nuked. Cleansed by fire. Walking around the building I located one of the janitor's rolling dump wagons. They've got these big gray colored carts that are about five feet long and a few feet wide. When a nearby janitor wasn't looking I swiped his cart and rolled it right up to my cubicle's opening. Scooting past it I started grabbing armloads of Greasy Guy's junk collection and tossed it into the janitor's portable trash bin. Everything went and I mean everything. I didn't care how much Greasy Guy might yell at me when he got back to see his precious broken parts stash missing. Saving the soda can pile for last, I sprinkled them liberally over the top of the garbage wagon and then I hauled it out of the building. Yeah!

Religious Pests

2006-08-06T13:56:00.000-07:00

So I'm sitting at home minding my business, drinking a bottle of Red Hook ESB and listening to The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. Fish sticks were sizzling in the oven. Outside, it's a bright sunny day. Calm and cool. Not a single cloud in the sky to be seen. Everything was well with the world.

Then the phone rang.

Expecting a call from Senor 23 I reached for the receiver, but thinking twice I glanced over at my caller ID box. A local number that I didn't recognize was displayed from a person named Pat. I don't know anybody named Pat. Figuring it wasn't a telemarketer, bill collector or other annoying asshat I answered the call. I was wrong.

"Hello. I'm calling my neighbors in the area today to ask for their help with volunteer work. Working with at-risk children. Would you be interested in helping?"

Actually, I had been looking for an opportunity to volunteer somewhere. I was hoping to help kids in schools with writing skills or something of that nature. Especially trying to help kids that were on the verge of dropping out. Unlike Autumn who was volunteering at a maximum security prison teaching total fuckups how to add and subtract I wanted to catch people BEFORE they ended up in prison. Help get them back on the right path BEFORE they became society's throw aways. So I was interested in this stranger's question.

I said, "Yeah I've been searching for a good volunteer opportunity in the county but nothing suitable has come up. What have you got in mind, mister?"

"Well, I'm with the Jehovah's Witnesses over on Sonoma Avenue and..."

"Whoa whoa whoa. Hold up there guy. What's the JW's got to do with it?"

"Have you heard of us before?"

"Yeah. You guys and the Mormons are the two worst religious organizations for being nationwide pests. Proselytizing. Always showing up on my doorstep telling me how great your religion is. I don't believe you should be doing that. It's a crime. Also, I feel people are better off finding religion on their own. If that's what they require in life they can seek it out. It should not be foisted upon them via their front porches."

"We feel that God has spoken to us and that this is our mission in life to share our message. Through his Word there is the power to save mankind from tribulation... the end times."

"No. God hasn't spoken to you guys. You're making all that stuff up just like the Mormons and Seventh Day Adventists. God hasn't told you to do any of that. And I know what you're talking about with regard to Revelations. You are probably trying to use the current conflict in the Middle East as a sign that the end times are upon us. It's a scare tactic. You have no idea how many times I've heard that one since I was a kid. The end times are not upon us. Doomsday is not lurking right around the corner waiting to jump out and get us."

"Have you had bad experiences with organized religion, sir?"

"Yes I have. I don't know how long you've been in town here Pat but I used to go to Christian Life Center which was up on the North end. We lost everything, the school, our church, everything. It was all because our pastor was taking church donations and illegally spending it on whatever he wanted. Private real estate, among other things. From my personal experiences in life I have observed Christians are the biggest hypocrites on the face of the planet. I refuse to have anything to do with their religion anymore. They continue to claim to be moral while all I see them do is beat their kids, cheat on their spouses, lie to friends, and steal from their employers. But that's okay because all you have to do is say you're sorry to a dead guy on a stick and then you can go right back out and commit more crimes. No thanks, man. That ain't for me. The rest of the time I observe Christians exerting massive amounts of effort focused on non-important external influences like music and films. To be a good Christian you have to stay away from certain books, movies, and records you know. That's stupid. What matters is what is on the inside of each individual. What kind of a person are you really? How do you treat other people? Are you honest? Are you kind to others? These are some of the things that are truly important and they miss that point consistently."

"I wasn't aware of Christian Life Center. I've only been living here for the past three years. Don't you think that through the word of God there is the power to stop wars? Through him there will be no more Tsunamis..."

"Okay. I want you to stop for a moment and consider the comment you just made. Stop tsunamis? That's just mentally ill. And stop wars? You obviously haven't been paying attention to much history have you? Most of humankind's suffering through conflict has been directly caused by religion. Each group is always saying 'we have all the answers' meanwhile pointing the finger at every other rival religion saying 'they're wrong and they will surely burn in hell' or whatever. The fact is none of you doofuses know what's up and none of you have all the answers. As soon as people finally come to the conclusion that religion is more of a problem instead of a solution I think we will finally have worldwide peace. Everyone will be better off without it."

The line was silent. So I kept going.

"And why are you hiding on the other end of a phone today being a pest? It's a gorgeous day outside. Instead of doing this junk you could have been out there working with kids, volunteering to take them to the park or something. You could have been volunteering at the library or cleaning up trash from a creekside. I mean, you could make more of a direct impact helping out society as an individual rather than doing it as part of a religious organization. Besides, I'm always suspect of organized religions working for charitable purposes because I don't think you're serious about it. In my opinion, the only reason why Jehovas Witnesses, Christians of various denominations, and those damned Mormons do altruistic work in the community is just to bring attention to yourselves and your brand of faith. It's not genuine."

"I'm not talking about band-aid solutions for society's problems."

"Whatever. I-"

Pat interrupted by telling me to have a good day and then he abruptly hung up. Typical. As soon as the person they happen to be debating against starts to actually make them think a teeny bit they freak out and run for cover. It won't matter one way or the other what I said to him, but I hope that guy considers my points and maybe, just maybe loses some sleep over it.

Free Automobiles

2006-08-05T10:09:00.000-07:00

Canopener called me later in the week. He wanted to ask a question concerning the Starfire. "Would your feelings be hurt if I put it up for sale on eBay?"

I thought about that for a couple of seconds. "Nah, man. Go for it." Canopener has three kids to take care of. He's the family bread winner and if he made some money off of that old heap, more power to him. I just wanted those cars out of here as soon as possible. That's why I was giving them away for free.

"Do me a favor though, when you place the eBay ad send me a link. It's gonna be funny to see how much it sells for." I wondered if it might sell for more money as a broken car than what I paid for it ten years ago when it was still running.

The Cougar left today. Oswald came up from Los Angeles to check it out. Despite it's poor overall condition he was totally ready for a challenging restoration project. Since the interior fire at Accurate Frame ate up some of the Cougar's electrical wiring harness there has been a direct short to ground. If it sits for more than a few days without being started up, the battery goes dead. Both of us drove to a nearby auto parts store and bought a brand new battery for it. After installing a fresh battery and dumping half a paper cup full of gasoline directly into the carburetor, the Cougar had no problem coming to life.

Standing at the edge of my front lawn I watched Oswald drive away. It was really strange to see my car leaving without myself sitting behind the wheel. For a brief moment I felt tears welling up in my eyes, but I quickly locked that down. Taking a deep breath I turned around and walked into the house. Seventeen years is a long time to have a car. So many memories.

I hoped Autumn would see from my actions that her comment really struck home with me, that I was listening to her. Autumn's opinions and thoughts mean a great deal to me because she is the most important person in my life. Sometimes I don't think Autumn realizes that fact. I wanted to show her that I am able to make changes in the way I live no matter how difficult those choices may seem at the time.

South County Vehicle Retrieval

2006-08-04T11:12:00.000-07:00

Canopener came by late this afternoon to fetch the Starfire. I expected he was going to show up in my driveway with a large tow truck or some variety of car hauler. Instead he brought a pickup truck with a small tow trailer. I guess he grabbed whatever was handy from his company's available equipment. Leaving the truck blocking one lane of road he hopped in to the Oldsmobile and pulled it's parking brake. Putting it in neutral he was ready to back out down the driveway. I warned him about having no brakes. Canopener's attitude was, it ain't nothin. Heh. I pushed against the car's front bumper and away he went. Rolling out to pavement he pulled hard on the steering wheel and hooked smoothly past his tow rig coming to a slow easy stop. Good job.

Now was the difficult part. We didn't have any extra help from anyone. Our mission was to push that heavy solid American steel up on to the tow trailer. Both front wheels had to be planted directly above the trailer's axle. It had ramps leading up and over but they were short and steep. Canopener straightened out the front tires by reaching in through a window. In order to pick up speed and gain momentum pushing that bastard we left a long distance between us and the trailer. Hopefully both of us had enough strength to power on through.

Canopener said, "You ready?"
"Yep."

Simultaneously both of us pushed as hard as we could from either side of the rear bumper. Walking, then running I felt the front end rise upwards towards the sky for a moment. Then an unbelievable amount of force rushed back against my arms. The Starfire's hood leveled out. Rolling backwards towards us Canopener and I got the fuck out of the way. Neither one of us wanted to be crushed. Our second attempt was no better. My beast of a dead car would not cooperate. Gently rolling to a stop past us we regrouped at the bumper for one more try.

We failed. Both of us were getting tired.

Canopener stood there in the street thinking. Then he turned to me and said, "Now we're gonna do what you're NOT supposed to do."
"What's that?" I suspected something bad was about to happen.
"Let's push it up against the trailer."

As soon as we reached it and the car's front tires were barely making contact with ramps, Canopener put the Oldsmobile into park and he engaged the brake. With a big, shit eating grin on his face Canopener looked at me saying, "Don't worry. This is going to be FUN. You'll like it, but you should stand back."

Uh oh. I ran over to the sidewalk.

Jumping into the cab of his pickup truck Canopener started the engine, threw it in reverse, and buried his foot into the accelerator pedal. Both rear wheels of the truck began cooking off like a funny car at a quarter mile drag strip. Clouds of thick, pure white smoke belched out of each wheel well rising past trees. The squealing sound coming from those tires was truly horrible. It echoed through my neighborhood with such ear splitting volume I anticipated any second everyone on the block would come running outside to see what the commotion was. And the smell, nasty. It was like someone had just incinerated ten thousand rubber bands. Inching backwards the trailer ramps scraped along pavement like a spatula and scooped up both of the Starfire's front tires. Lurching once or twice it creeped up and over until finally coming to rest in the trailer's grip. Canopener did it.

Stepping off the sidewalk I met Canopener at his truck's trailer hitch. In his best white trash hillbilly voice and with a smile on his face he said, "That's the way we do things in South County."

After securing the Oldsmobile with chains and heavy straps were cinched down over it's front tires Canopener drove home. I watched as he hauled that beauty of a classic ride down the street until he made a left turn and disappeared from view. Thinking to myself, I was happy and also sort of sad at the same time to see it go.

I had one more corpse of a vehicle to ditch. My local police department had ever so kindly given me extra incentive to do so. They had come by at some point earlier in the week and tagged the Cougar for impound removal in ten days. It's really got to go away. The sooner, the better.

Two Dead Cars

2006-08-03T11:09:00.000-07:00

At least I'm not carrying around two dead cars.

I've been giving Autumn's comment quite a bit of thought. After considering how much money I'd have to dump into the Starfire and the Cougar to really get them back to decent condition I've decided it's not worth it. Buying fully restored classic cars that someone else has already invested time and money into would be cheaper than trying to do the work myself. That's the thing with old cars. You rarely get a return on your investment out of them. At best, you break even. Maybe at some point in the future I will be in much better financial shape to afford a hotrod or two. Now isn't the time.

When I moved into this place a few years ago I had the Oldsmobile towed here by a nice old fellow who doesn't ask any questions. In many ways he reminds me of the actor Bruce Dern. He's got a rusty, beat up tow truck and he'll haul just about anything with it for cash. He doesn't care if the vehicle that needs to be moved is currently registered or if it's insured. All he wants is cash up front. He's a very useful person to know. The last time he hauled the Olds for me he expressed interest in buying it. So I called him up first to see if he wanted to snag it. Tow Truck Guy told me he would have a while ago, but he was getting too old and just sold off his whole car collection. All he had left was one hotrod and a vintage fire truck which was for sale. Bummer.

Canopener had also asked about the Olds once. I called him and asked if he wanted the car. He thought about it, then said yes. Cool. That was going to work out well because he worked for a heavy equipment rental company. They had car haulers, trailers, probably even had tow trucks of their own. Canopener planned to be by to pick it up in a couple of days.

One down, one to go.

Just for the hell of it I went into IRC late at night and hit our clan's Urban Terror channel. Plenty of gamers were in there lurking like usual but nobody was saying anything. I typed in, "Is anyone here interested in a 1968 Mercury Cougar?" Nothing happened for a few minutes. All of a sudden I received a private message from one of the Urban Terror development team members, a guy who went by the player name "Oswald." He started asking questions about the car. Actually Oswald seemed really interested in it so I told him about every single thing that was wrong with the car. I mentioned the recent fire that had burned up a bunch of it's electrical wiring harness, all the cosmetic damage inside and out, etc. I sent him recent pics of the exterior damage. Oswald still wanted the car.

Well, shit. That was easy enough. All he's got to do is come get the damned thing.

Pack Rat

2006-08-02T12:27:00.000-07:00

I don't remember what started it now or why I said it, but rather jokingly as Autumn and I were walking into the house I called her a Pack Rat. Irritated, Autumn glared at me and instantly shot back, "At least I'm not carrying around two dead cars." That's a common enough tactic to take during a petty squabble isn't it? Shift attention away from yourself as quickly as possible so you don't have to actually think about the point being made. Opening my mouth to say something in return I decided against it and just shut up. She was right of course. I do have two very dead cars now. That fire in the Cougar did more than just cosmetic damage it seems...

It is also true that Autumn is one of the worst Pack Rats I've ever seen.

Autumn's apartment is rather small. It's not that great of a layout inside but what it lacks in available space is entirely made up for by the gorgeous view of the surroundings.

Every closet in her apartment is jammed with personal belongings. This also includes a storage locker downstairs in her apartment's garage. It's all stuff Autumn rarely uses. Old clothes, an Amelda Marcos sized collection of shoes, hat boxes filled with random junk, far too many Christmas decorations, roll upon roll of gift wrap paper, a beading kit complete with hordes of various beads, boxes of photos from overseas trips she never looks at, shopping bags crammed with who knows what.... it goes on and on. Actually, it's impressive the sheer volume of crap Autumn has been able to hide. I've started to think of her apartment's closets as black holes gobbling up whatever is fed into them. Problem is they're defective black holes. Instead of consuming matter and spitting items out in another dimension halfway across the galaxy all that junk stays put making for one hell of a fire hazard.

Another of my amazing Autumn Pack Rat observations is a cycle her bedroom goes through periodically. Like a pendulum Autumn's bedroom swings back and forth from total disaster area to spotlessly organized living space. At any given time during the week whatever item is no longer immediately needed will be discarded. Dropped to the floor and left where it fell, her bedroom will transform into an obstacle course of bath towels, clothes, paperwork, and shopping bags until you can no longer see carpet with the naked eye. Eventually this clutter will be too much for even Autumn herself to handle and it will all be magically spirited away to hungry, gluttonous closets.

I can forgive all of that though. It's kind of amusing.

What I do have a problem with is the refrigerator in her apartment. That shit is scary. Autumn loves to cook and she's damn good at it. She's always in the kitchen mixing up something tasty from scratch. I'm constantly amazed at her level of kitchen skill. On the negative side, all those leftovers have to go somewhere. That somewhere is a white painted metal closet commonly referred to as a refrigerator. Autumn doesn't like to throw food stuffs out so more and more leftovers wrapped in foil or crammed into plastic yogurt containers pile up fast in there. Then she forgets about them. Bad things start to happen. The refrigerator has a tough time maintaining a constant temperature because of everything so it stays wet inside all the time. Real icky. Plastic bags filled with what was once fresh produce like cucumbers turn into brown and gray sacks of liquid mulch. Jars containing unidentifiable substances transform into rot. I'm genuinely concerned one of these days she's going to eat something that's gone South on her and end up seriously ill...

BBQ'd Cougar

2006-08-02T11:11:00.000-07:00

I walked around to the back of Accurate Frame's building where my Cougar was parked. Opening the passenger's side door a cloud of white fire retardant powder rushed out. I poked my nose inside. Damn, it smelled bad. The whole interior reeked of smoke and fire extinguisher that had combined into something nobody's car should be- a wet BBQ pit. If I thought the upholstery needed work before... it really was going to need it now. Along the top edge of the rear seat, the leather had been charred black by flames to reveal gaping holes through it's cushions. Totally destroyed.

The frustrating thing about this is, I was going to remove the rear seat before I took it to the shop as a courtesy. It's a ten minute job. But, laziness caught me by the shirt collar and I decided to let them handle it. That was their job, after all.

Ed and myself sat down in his office to discuss how we would handle this. He was visibly nervous and completely embarrassed. I think he was worried that I would take him to court and sue him or at the very least make him pay for fully restoring my car's interior. A full restoration would cost thousands of dollars. Because the Cougar's interior was already thrashed I reasoned it would not be fair to make his shop pay for brand new carpet, headliner, leather bucket seats, etc. If I had brought the car to him in new condition and this careless accident happened I would think otherwise.

We came to a gentleman's agreement. Ed's welding work was going to run into the $400 to $500 dollar range. Replacing the rear seats would nearly be that much. I suggested Ed ditch the bill for welding, and I wouldn't hassle him for money to fix the entire interior. Seemed reasonable enough to me. Both of us shook on it. Done deal.

Driving home I had to roll all the windows down because of that wet BBQ pit smell. It was overpowering. At least the rear end of the car felt like it was firmly planted on the road again. Their repair work to those shock mounts at least was good. When I got back home I parked the Cougar out front. There it sat for weeks collecting lawn trimmings and hornets while I thought about what I was going to do with it next.

Talking To Ed

2006-07-31T13:00:00.000-07:00

Downtown there's an autoshop specializing in hardcore metal repair work. It's called Accurate Frame and Welding. Shortly after I ran over a good sized deer with my 1968 Cougar I had to take the car down to Accurate Frame for some serious welding. Both front shock towers had been split in half by the dead deer's corpse as I crushed it to the pavement. $600 dollars worth of welding later the car was in good shape up front. I did not at the time realize both my rear shock mounts had also been destroyed in the same accident. Behind the back seat both shocks mounted directly to the body on the top side. When that deer passed underneath the rear axle, it forced it upwards so violently that both shocks shattered through their body mounts.

Since I bought a Ford Focus to use as my daily driver I decided I could finally get to restoring the Cougar. Two or three weeks ago I dropped off the Cougar at Accurate Frame. I wanted those shock mounts fixed. Figuring the job wasn't that big of a deal I expected to hear back from the shop by now. They haven't bothered to call. Normally I don't like bugging shops when my car is being worked on because the guys there might get angry and deliberately slow down or sideline the car. This seemed like too long a period of time for such a simple welding job though.

I called the shop.

"Hello? Yeah, hey. I'm the guy with that '68 Cougar. Just wondering how the job is going."
The lady who answered the phone sounded nervous. Not good. After hesitating she said, "Uh... ummmm... uhhhhh."
"Is there a problem?"
"Uhhhhhhhh... you're going to have to talk to Ed."
"I'm going to have to talk to Ed, huh? Okay. Put him on the phone."
There was a long pause. Then Ed started talking.
"We caught your car on fire."
"WHAT?"
Ed said, "I told that dumbshit to take out the rear seat cushions but he didn't listen to me. He poked through the body from underneath with an arc welder and it shot some sparks. It caught the interior on fire, burning the back seat..."
"I'll be right over."

Shit.

No Brakes

2006-07-31T12:05:00.000-07:00

Autumn has continued to pester me about fixing up the Oldsmobile. This weekend she suggested I take it out of the garage and at least give it a wash as it's been sitting in there collecting dust for the past couple of years. Problem is since the motor is half torn out of the engine compartment I'd need help pushing it out to the driveway and even more help getting the car garaged again. It's a heavy beast. I agreed to take her up on the suggestion because I didn't want to make Autumn mad. Lately that's been especially easy to do.

I called Senor 23 and asked him to come by and help us muscle the car outside. He showed up not long afterward and I hopped into the driver's seat. The interior was musty and filled with cobwebs. It really had been years since the last time I sat behind the wheel. No motor meant no brakes. This was going to be dicey, all I had to stop the car was it's parking brake. It would have to do. Putting the Olds in neutral and releasing the parking brake I gave Senor 23 a go ahead to start pushing. He was standing directly in front at the bumper. Gently, the car rolled backwards. I felt the rear tires cross over a bump which meant I was on driveway concrete. The trunk deck edged downwards and I picked up speed. Too much speed. With my left foot I jammed on that parking brake- and nothing happened. Backing down the driveway faster and faster I had no way to stop the car. Nooooooo!

My driveway opens up on to a very long, busy residential street. People often speed on down the road even though the limit here is 25mph. I was doomed and I knew it. In a second or two someone was going to slam into the Oldsmobile as it burst into the lanes or I was going to sail clean across to the other side of my street and split a parked car in half. Senor 23 could tell from the look on my face that I was panic stricken but there was nothing he could do. There was no way he could stop this beast. If he tried, the momentum and weight of the car would simply knock him down to the pavement and roll right over him. He'd be dead for sure.

As I jammed into the road I got seriously lucky. There was no traffic. I did the best I could steering like a mofo while coasting in reverse. Over the yellow line I went. I angled my path so that I narrowly missed two parked cars and gently came to a stop on sidewalk curb. Whew.

We pushed like hell at the rear bumper and got it back to my side of the street. With more help we were able to get it partially up the driveway. I stuffed two wheel blocks under the rear tires. It wasn't going nowhere now, but when I was done screwing around with this monster I'd need even more help to get it all the way up into the garage. Before it got much later in the day I grabbed my phone and started calling buddies to come over. I explained the situation and had three more guys show up at the house. We were going to need that many people at a minimum.

Washing the Olds took a while. When we were done I stepped back to take a good look at it. I'd forgotten how nice the light metallic blue paint job looked. My next door neighbor commented that he thought my car was gray. Heh. That's how dusty it had become. Autumn took a few pictures of the car sitting out there on the driveway after it was all cleaned up looking sharp. Then the six of us pushed it into the garage and called it a day.

* from left to right: Senor 23, Devil-T, factory peasant, Biskits, Adult Baby Diaper Man.

Focus

2006-07-29T13:45:00.000-07:00

Car shopping during the past two weeks has been fun. It isn't at all like I expected it would be. I anticipated salespeople at dealerships would be trying to swindle me at every step of the way, but they've actually been low key. No pressure. Most of the dealerships let me wander around by myself to explore and told me to come bug them if I had any questions. Climbing in and out of their vehicles messing with stuff has been cool. I hit all of the major Japanese automakers and most domestic manufacturers. Here's what I found out.

Toyota has two kinds of cars I zeroed in on, the new Celica and their sedans. Celicas look kind of girly. I didn't fit inside them comfortably though even with the driver's seat pegged all the way to the back. They cost more than I wanted to spend on average with the base models lacking any real options or features. Visibility out the rear window was poor, cluttered. I decided Celicas weren't for me. They're in the same category as the Acura RSX in that the cuteness factor is too high, too foofy. Toyota Celicas are girl cars and I can't take any dude seriously if he steps out of one. Just like the RSX. Toyota's sedans were also a disappointment. I had to cram myself in behind the steering wheel. Visibility was far better than the Celica of course but again cost was a factor and base models had little in the way of creature comforts. I crossed Toyota off my list.

Out of all American made cars, Chevrolet had to be the absolute worst. Boring ass bland corny lookin' flimsy P.O.S. vehicles all the way around that only a mullet wearing toothless dumbshit with a healthy beer gut could love. I don't know what GM's fucking problem is but they can't get anything right. Just like Ford, they haven't put out a truly solid ride since the late 1960s. I've had a few of their products from back then and they were rockin'. Someday, when Chevrolet finally has something worth a shit maybe I'll seriously consider their offerings.

Saturn was never an option. Those cars are entirely retarded.

Mazda had the new Protege 5 sedan. Since Mazda is one-fifth owned by Ford my employee discount would work with them, but it was about one-fifth as good a price break. Nevertheless I hopped in a few of their cars to see what was going on. Like Toyotas they were on the small side which didn't work well for me. I really liked the instrument cluster though. The speedometer and tach had a white background with black lettering that reminded me of being in a race car. For the money, I could get one of these with a manual transmission and a tape deck. That was about it. I put them down as a definite maybe. The rest of their vehicle lineup didn't suit me.

Honda has a reputation for long lasting durability. I spent little time investigating their whole vehicle line. Nothing jumped out at me. Their body styles strike me as purely utilitarian, boring. I did fit better inside most of their stuff though. Perhaps Japanese who buy Hondas are slightly taller than average. Kekekekeke!

Chrysler sucks.

Volkswagen is poo. They are notorious for having tons of expensive mechanical problems, bugs, and performance issues. Plus those Nazi bastards brought back the beetle which I've hated consistently since I reached the old age of 4. Unforgivable. The curse of freeway systems since World War II, those stinking noisy air cooled overgrown lawnmowers infested with dirtbags had no reason to EVER be updated into a new-fangled fuel injected traffic roadblock. I hereby decree all VWs as soon as they come off a production line anywhere in the world should immediately be transported to the nearest scrapyard and summarily crushed. Amen.

Wandering through remaining various dealerships I finally made it to the last stop... Ford. Everything in their lineup was fairly boring sort of on par with Chevrolet. However, they did have a slightly larger version of their European hatchback called the KA available. I'd seen the KA advertised in a British magazine a year or two before and thought they looked pretty good. At the time I was angry because it seems like American automakers frequently have more interesting vehicles for sale but you can't get them Stateside. They're for the Euro market only. Weak. The larger US version of the KA was named Focus. A rather dumb name but whatever.

Hauling myself into a Focus sedan driver's seat I was surprised. I not only fit with plenty of room to stretch out, but I could see everything. The visibility was amazing. With the employee discount I could get one of these little suckers fully loaded. Cruise control, automatic transmission, 6 disc CD player, air conditioning, side impact air bags, and a power moon roof. Damn. It would cost far less than a comparable Japanese sedan with no extras. I took one of 'em for a test drive. That was when I appreciated the visibility. It was like driving a sliding glass door. Very different from driving the Cougar which after a Focus test drive seemed like I was inside a concrete bunker looking out through a gun hatch.

So I bought a blue one. Gave 'em a five thousand dollar down payment and used the Ford corporate employee discount plan. The whole deal was so reasonable that even if I get laid off from work soon I think unemployment will easily cover my $254.00 a month car payment. Not too shabby...

Bug Sue

2006-07-28T22:53:00.000-07:00

Close to my cubicle there is a phone located in an aisle of assembly's production area. Late in the afternoon when most of dayshift has gone home it becomes very quiet throughout the building. Sometimes during that part of my shift I am frequently sitting in front of my computers monitoring tests and filling out spreadsheets. If I'm not tapping away making racket on my keyboard you'd probably never know I was there. At least I assume you'd be oblivious to my presence. Especially if you were being loud and obnoxious, babbling insanity non stop over that nearby phone.

That's what a blonde haired lady whom I call Bug Sue does on days when she bothers to come in to work. She either doesn't care if anyone is listening to her nutty conversations or she's too jacked up on Meth to notice. Bug Sue is a classic Meth Chick(tm) if I ever seen one. She's weathered in a bad way like a worn out middle aged stripper. Her hair is usually unkept, she's got sores all over her arms, and her clothes are dirty. Whenever Bug Sue is around I try to avoid becoming entangled in conversations with her. To be honest I don't even want to be within fifty feet of the woman. I keep a low profile.

The reason why I nicknamed her Bug Sue is because she's covered from head to toe in bugs. Naturally. Why else would I call her Bug Sue? Some of the creatures are purely imaginary, and some are very real. Little remains of her mind thanks to being burned out on Meth. Her imaginary bugs are big enough that when she thinks one is crawling on her skin she tries to scrape it off. Scraping can be performed with anything from fingernails to a screwdriver. It's all good. That's where some of the sores on her arms are coming from. The real bugs are too small for Bug Sue to see with the naked eye. Those bugs are called Scabies. Scabies are microscopic mites that burrow into an infected person's skin causing sores. As you can imagine, Bug Sue has many different kinds of scabs and lesions visible because she is constantly scratching at herself. Scabies happens to be highly contagious. Another reason for me to stay away from her at all times.

I learned of Bug Sue's scabies from one of her colorful phone conversations. Apparently she picked up a bum from under a bridge or down by the railroad tracks and brought him home to have lots of rowdy sex. He's no longer homeless thanks to Bug Sue's kindness and he has rewarded her with plenty of fresh hot-off-the-miscreant scabies. Mmmmm yummy. Lately Bug Sue hasn't been able to drive herself to work though because her car done did broke down. So she has been hitch hiking to and from the factory suckin' off lowlifes for transportation. This has also been brought to my attention thanks to Bug Sue's mentally ill phone use.

While all of this behavior makes me cringe, I wasn't too concerned until yesterday. When Bug Sue arrived in the area she brought a can of bug spray with her. That was entirely unexpected. It appeared to be of the Black Flag/Raid variety. Straight up poison. She set the can of insecticide on her workbench and proceeded to build an instrument. As Bug Sue pulled PC boards one by one out of their protective packaging, she hosed down each board with poison. The circuitry was completely contaminated with chemicals that are not good for electronics. In fact those boards were most likely ruined causing thousands of dollars worth of damage. Bug Sue claimed PC boards were infecting her with critters. To prove it she placed a white paper cup on her workbench. The paper cup was for trapping bugs as they crawled off circuit boards onto her arms. She happily announced capturing a few of those pesky beasts.

Shortly after a supervisor had Bug Sue removed from the area I walked to her workbench. Peeking inside that paper cup insect jail I saw nothing, of course. I concluded that Meth-vision was required in order to see the captive bugs.

Halfshirt's Butt Snorkel

2006-07-28T21:48:00.000-07:00

Over in the instrument assembly area I've been hearing nothing but complaints coming from the dayshift crew about a guy named James. Since I haven't worked instrument assembly in what seems like forever I'm completely out of touch with who is doing what at any given time in their group. Everybody keeps whining about James and I couldn't figure out who he was. From the sound of things I imagined James was a cranky old bastard with authority who had been working here for decades. Expecting to see a gray haired old man that smelled like a mix of stale coffee and tuna fish I was startled to discover that James is actually a pudgy white guy in his early 20s. I finally spotted him today. As far as I'm concerned he's a nobody nothing and I fail to understand why people are letting him get away with being a punk.

Complaints range from James being excessively abusive in his choice of words when talking with coworkers to bossing them around like he's their immediate supervisor. He has no power to be telling anyone what to do. Two people have mentioned to me they wanted to haul him outside and stuff a fist into his face more than once. They were afraid to because James has claimed he's a black belt in Karate or some shit. I scoffed at that. James looks like he couldn't fight his way out of a size 12 dress. Besides, anyone who really knows a martial art has no reason to publicly announce it to anyone. I smell a fake, a coward.

James is Halfshirt's personally appointed Butt Snorkel. A royal kiss ass. Since Halfshirt was demoted from working in the NPI department and sent back to regular production he's been mad about it. For a manager his attitude is very poor. Not wanting to have much of anything to do with production work Halfshirt told his team in assembly that James is the area's lead. I seriously doubt Halfshirt can do that. Essentially this dumb kid who has no experience was put in charge of an instrument line. Bad idea. The line has been plunged into chaos and turmoil since then. This could really backfire on Halfshirt if things get worse over there. He might earn himself an exit ticket on the next round of layoffs. I'll keep my fingers crossed.

Layoffs: Round 3

2006-07-28T17:11:00.000-07:00

We're still entirely top heavy with more managers than you can shake a stick at. In the first couple rounds of layoffs most employees who lost their jobs were small time. Hourly wage, paid with peanuts style salaries. Hardly any supervisors or department managers were hit. From my perspective it's aggravating because we've lost some real hard working people that didn't cost much compared to useless managers who bring in high paychecks for doing next to nothing. Low overhead employees directly contribute to our success. Managers don't. If anything else they just sap company resources and muck things up worse. For every deadbeat supervisor who continues to suck down fat stacks of cash we could have spared ten above average production workers.

Round number three of layoffs has snared some management. I'm happy to see it happen. The interesting thing is instead of these individuals being shown the front gate instantly most of them are being shuffled over to work on Oracle for a few months. Then they are thrown out. Oracle has been such a colossal disaster since it was launched that there are literally hundreds of people working long hours trying to make it function properly. Apparently a whole army of consultants are working on it as well. Because Oracle's databases and supporting software turned out to be a gigantic steaming pile of shit many employees will be able to hang on for a few more months before their final day arrives. What a strange set of circumstances that must be. You've been eliminated, yet in order to receive your severance you are obligated to assist the company with repairing a massively broken project. I wouldn't be very motivated to put forth more than a token effort if that happened to me.

Recently I had two friends in town from Ashland, Oregon for a visit. I invited them here to work for a tour. Neither one of them had seen anything like this before. While we walked from department to department we passed by an empty floor of one building that had nothing but hundreds of office chairs stacked up half way to the ceiling. Every piece of office furniture and equipment had already been removed weeks earlier. You could see clear across to the other side of that building in any direction from where we were. The only things out there were those piles of chairs cordoned off with yellow tape like you'd find at a construction site or a police crime scene. I mentioned that this is where our microcircuit department used to be, with three shifts working nearly seven days a week. I pointed out across the shop floor to the chairs and I said, "Every single one of those chairs used to belong to someone who was laid off. They're all gone due to offshoring."

That put things into grim perspective for my guests.

Buying A New Car

2006-07-28T15:16:00.000-07:00

The Cougar is wasted. I've been feeling bad about it pretty much since the deer wreck. It's front end is thrashed, the paint is completely shot. Under the hood sits a tired 302 leaking oil from everywhere. That motor was rebuilt by Dad and myself when I was still in high school. Back in 1987 I think it was. On the inside, the headliner is ripped to shreds. Safety pins hold it up in enough places so I can see out the rear window. There's a giant crack in the dashboard that's split it in two. Both front bucket seats need reupholstering badly. The driver's side is so destroyed that I stuffed an old shirt into it to keep my backside from hitting the floorboard below. There used to be a vinyl top on the roof but it disintegrated. I hacked the rest of it off the car with a dull carpet cutter which revealed a whole heap of red rust.

Basically, my car is a genuine cop magnet. No matter where I am driving that thing around as soon as a patrolman spots it they're anticipating a juicy bust with plenty of ticket writing. I keep my shit in order though and I don't bury my foot in the pedal doing stupid stuff. The cops always leave disappointed when everything checks out okay. Sometimes I get the feeling they'd like to bust a taillight so they can at least give me a fix it ticket, but the lights back there are armored. So are the headlights for that matter.

Seventeen years is a long time to have the same car. I'd really like to restore the Cougar, but to do that properly I can't be using it as my daily driver. I need something else. Something brand new for a change. All I know is old classic cars from the Sixties. The Cougar is as recent as I get. 1968. Maybe it's time I buy a brand new ride and park this mangy beast so I can fix it up. Could be a fun project and I won't have to worry about getting to work every day. While I'm at it I should finally do something with that Oldsmobile too. Autumn has been bugging me to get it running again. She's a hotrodder at heart with a secret lust for big old cars and their big back seats. Rebuilding that engine is going to be a serious chore though. Not sure I'm up for that.

Ford has extended their employee discount to our company because we exclusively buy their vehicles for our nationwide fleet. Not too many of our people know about that benefit. Through Ford I can instantly knock thousands of dollars off a car's asking price and there's no worry of negotiating with salespeople at a dealership. Ford Corporate handles the whole thing. I'm supposed to go in and just pick out a car and that's that. No haggling or bullshit. I think I'm going to check it out. Might as well see what the Japanese have to offer while I'm at it although I don't expect to fit inside any of their cars. I'm just too damned tall and those cars are made for little people anyway. Won't hurt to look though.

Exporting Greasy Guy

2006-07-28T12:04:00.000-07:00

Ah. Things are getting back on track in the chamber area. Everything is organized and clean for once. As soon as Greasy Guy left for the airport I grabbed a bottle of Lab Clean and a box of blue shop towels. Walking through the chamber area and the environmental lab I scrubbed all of Greasy Guy's gray filmy forehead slime off the observation windows of each temperature chamber. You know what? I can finally see shit properly in the chambers. Yeah!

I've got three months of Greasy Guy free time running Mini-Rel. I'm in charge of the gig. Without him around I should be able to get caught up with management's production schedule, turn this whole operation around. I swear that guy is the biggest obstacle we have to meeting deadlines. It's like having a speedboat with a big block V8 in it, but you can't pull a water skier up and out because you're dragging three anchors along the lake bottom.

Someone had the bright idea to send him over to Penang. He's going to be training some of their technicians to perform Mini-Rel procedures. I feel sorry for those employees because they're not going to learn much from Greasy Guy except bad habits. He's also going to eat all their food. Those poor Malay...

DoD IG

2006-07-27T20:31:00.000-07:00

I made an anonymous call to the Department of Defense Inspector General's office today. For the past year or so Malay employees from Penang and Singapore have been telling some of us here Stateside about serial number swapping on US Government rated orders coming through our Singapore division. Malay working there have been told by their management teams to change serial numbers on instruments that have been 100% built in Malaysia, and then ship them out to US Military and Government agency customers as boxes built in Singapore. Real dirty stuff going on there.

In the past all sensitive US Government orders were produced entirely Stateside. This included orders for defense contractors and foreign militaries. That is no longer the case.

Under current US laws Singapore is the only foreign country in that region of Asia that has been approved for working on military orders. However there are very clear restrictions on how they are built. For example, our products can be tested in Malaysia and they can have some assembly work performed in country. At least 51% of the unit must be built in Singapore. Well, that's just not happening. At first they were playing sort of a game, shipping boxes back and forth between Penang and Singapore then re-serializing the finished instruments. Now apparently they aren't even wasting their time with that. They're just doing the whole thing in Penang then shipping new instruments to Singapore and scraping the Malaysia serial tags off.

Our latest generation of instruments are unreliable and have so many serious electrical failures at all stages of the test process that no guarantee of limiting assembly work in Malaysia to 49% could ever realistically happen. I've been aware of these allegations for some months, and I was able to verify that US Government rated orders are in fact being almost exclusively built and tested in Penang then shipping out to the Singapore facility where they get the serial number switcheroo. I have access to all of Penang's computer systems so I can see individual instruments flowing through their test process. In addition to that I have a record of how long each unit has been in their area as well as how much assembly work they've performed on them. The more failures each box has, the more assembly work must be done. On average it's a massive amount.

Thanks to the negative environment our Shareholder Value CEO and his cronies have created here it's been easy for me to gain access to more and more information while investigating this. Employees are fed up, angry, and disgruntled. I've carefully approached a few key people asking for help concerning this serious issue and everyone has been very supportive. In addition to gaining access to the Penang systems, I was also given accounts with high levels of access in our ordering systems. That way I can look out ahead six months in advance, identify every single US military order and wait to see which production facility it magically appears in.

Part of my plan is to gather enough information over a long period of time so that I can show a pattern of deliberate, willful wrongdoing on the part of this company. I don't want to make serious accusations like this and not have much hard data or facts to back it up. If I'm going to do this I need to absolutely body slam these fuckers.

I've spent a great deal of time thinking about the situation and there are a number of things that concern me deeply. The Malay have many good workers there, but it is predominantly a Muslim country. Animosity towards the United States is at a much higher level now since the invasion of Iraq. Employees there who distrust and dislike us on religious grounds will have a much easier time deliberately damaging or sabotaging instruments if they know the end user will be a branch of the US military services. They also may be more likely to study how a military customer programs their units, settings and so forth, if those units ever end up back in their facility for repair. We do have security scrub procedures for sensitive customers but you never know; someone could be careless. What if sabotaged test instruments end up in the hands of military users who depend on that equipment to stay alive and it prematurely malfunctions? Maybe someone gets killed. Personally, I don't think it's worth risking.

So I call in to the DoD IG's office just to ask some questions. I need to find out what's legal, and what isn't. Put things into a framework. Who knows, I could be way off base with this and the laws have changed. Or something. Anyway, when the phone stopped ringing a tired old woman's voice with a heavy Southern accent greeted me. I explained that I worked for a high technology electronics company who supplies all branches of US military service with instruments. I also carefully explained the situation with our boxes built in Malaysia and Singapore. I voiced my concerns then I asked a simple question. It was a yes or no question, really.

"Is it legal for my company to manufacture US government defense rated orders in Malaysia?"

The slow, tired old Southern woman's voice drawled, "You'll have to check with your employer."
I was completely stupidified by her response. I'M going to have to check with MY employer about this? Like I can just go up to top management and ask "Hey guys is it cool for us to be switching serial tags on our military boxes in Singapore? Isn't that illegal? Huh?"
WTF?
Just to be sure I wasn't going insane or that my ears had suddenly picked up a random brainwave transmission from alien beings on planet eleven I asked the same question a second time. Again she gave me the same answer. "Check with your employer." This was amazingly retarded, not at all what I expected from the DoD.

Yes it is illegal for US military orders to be built in Malaysia.

OR

No it is not illegal for US military orders to be built in Malaysia.

It's not that tough of a question to ask a representative of the Department of Defense. Is it? Completely perplexed I asked another question rather sarcastically. "I don't think my employer is going to tell me one way or the other if our operation in Malaysia is breaking any federal laws, Ma'am. Nor would it be wise to ask. So where would you suggest I look to find an answer?"
She replied, "I don't know."

That's fucking great. I hung up. Guess I'm on my own with this one.

An Unemployed Drunk

2006-07-27T20:06:00.000-07:00

Great news when I came in to work today. The Drunk got herself fired. Not laid off. No severance package. Fired. That is the coolest shit EVER.

The Drunk was pulling a fairly idiotic scam that finally caught up with her. Since 1996 she's been showing up to work almost every day totally bombed. Her peers knew about it but for some reason they looked the other way and tolerated it this whole time. She has an office at two of our factories here in the county. So what she did was place a notice on her desk at each office saying she was at the other site. If anybody was looking for her they'd just assume she was at the other division for a meeting or something. Then she stopped coming in to work altogether. What a genius. I guess The Drunk got away with it for quite a long time before someone noticed.

I laughed for a while.

When I first met The Drunk she was my boss in Spokane, Wa. Hired in as a Material Coordinator, my job was to train in every aspect of the instrument line and then take over responsibility for ordering all of that product line's parts and supplies. It's a tough job, but I could have easily handled it. Because of the job's scope it came with a decent pay rate. Weeks after I arrived on site in Spokane to begin work I was sabotaged by one of The Drunk's kiss asses who was pissed off that she didn't get the Material Coordinator job. I had the position swiped out from under me with no recourse or avenue to make a grievance. I lost a considerable amount of money over the years thanks to The Drunk and that is why I am particularly happy to hear she's been kicked out. I hope she buys a bottle of fortified wine and ends up face down in a muddy ditch.

Potatohead Rumors

2006-07-27T14:04:00.000-07:00

Now that Potatohead has officially accepted his severance package and taken the coward's way out (wise choice), Shoelaces and I have been coming up with a colorful variety of rumors about him. This place is a giant rumor mill here. Employees love to hear fresh dirt on their coworkers past or present.

My personal favorite is one Shoelaces invented. He's been telling people here at work that he saw Potatohead standing off to the side of the freeway selling boxes of oranges. Shoelaces does a convincing job telling that one to wide eyed employees. It's awesome. So far it's been a very popular rumor that's spreading quickly throughout the division.

I've been telling everyone Potatohead got a job working construction, digging ditches because that's all he could do. Usually I add in an extra juicy tidbit- his wife left him. But I only tack that on for the ladies. Not that any of them thought Potatohead was a studly man or anything. Quite the opposite. That's what makes it so amusing.

Someone else started one that goes something like this. After leaving here Potatohead got a job working an auto parts counter at Kragen. That's also a decent lie, but it might actually be close to the truth. One guy who keeps in contact with a former pet of Potatohead's (who was also laid off recently) told my source that he is in fact working auto parts. He's running a parts warehouse though. It's not retail which of course if it were would be ultimately humiliating for Potatohead. We're cooking up some even more rowdy stories about Potatohead just to see how many people will fall for them. It's going to be a good time.

Me Me Me Me Me

2006-07-27T13:32:00.000-07:00

"I don't know what I'm going to do. Your mother's sickness is going to cost us the house, our retirement, everything."
Here we go again. It's the same conversation every time. My eyes were rolling back in my skull as I spoke into the phone.
"You have medical benefits. You have a substantial pension coming from the fire department."
Dad snapped back sarcastically, "That won't cover long term costs of putting her in a nursing home. I'll go broke. I won't have anything left. No retirement, no house, nothing. This is going to be real fun for me. Work all these years..."
"Real fun for you? What about Mom? She's the one with the disease, man. You think this is going to be a grand time for her? She's scared as hell right now."
"I'M THE ONE WHO HAS TO DEAL WITH IT!"

Oh, the drama. Me me me me me... that's all I hear from Dad.

"You know what? You need to stop worrying about these doomsday blacker than black what-if scenarios. Worry about what you have some control over now. Research different kinds of medical insurance. Find out if there are some financial options. Investigate alternative treatments or new drugs that might be available. Right now you're constantly stressing over this junk which is years away from happening and you don't have a god damned clue about any of it."

I cringed before opening my mouth again to say it because I knew Dad was going to jump on the chance to drag me down with him as far as he could. I was going to try to stick by him and be a good son even though I'd have to wade through his constant bullshit piled ten feet high. Dad and I really aren't friends. Never have been. Mom was the person I had to keep myself focused on. She's the one who is in need, not this jackoff.

"I'll help do some ground work, research some things, and look into this stuff."

He'd just fuck it all up anyway.

No Retirement

2006-07-27T12:38:00.000-07:00

Mom's situation is worsening all on fronts. Not only is the disease rapidly causing more of her cognitive skills to erode, she's also constantly being messed with by Dad, and on top of that the company just effectively burned her out of her retirement. After working here for 20+ years with less than a year to go to age 55 her supervisor in MTA completely fucked her over. This is really bad.

What happened at work was this: Mom's boss clearly stated that she cannot return to work unless her doctor writes a legal letter saying she is healthy and can perform her job duties normally. That would be impossible since there is no cure for Alzheimer's. There are a few risky drugs with multiple negative side effects that may help slow her mental deterioration down a bit but that's it. Feeling like she was being backed into a corner, Mom panicked and snuck into work late on a Sunday night to collect her personal belongings. My father isn't very bright at times and he went along with this goofy scheme. Apparently one of Mom's coworkers was there when they crept in, saw her clearing out her locker and desk then reported it via voicemail to their line manager. The reaction from her supervisor that week was predictable. She called it "Job Abandonment." Honestly I don't know what else Mom could have done. Nobody was willing to help her out with this understandable and difficult personal situation.

I suspect her manager is terrified of being laid off so she's following company policies to a ridiculous degree. She'll end up being laid off anyway, regardless of how she handles this.

It's rather sickening that our company is treating one of it's longtime employees this way. Bill and Dave used to take care of their own, especially when they contracted terminal illnesses. Right now it looks like Dad is going to have to sue the company for her medical benefits and retirement. They don't need this on top of all their other problems.

My father isn't the best person to have around as a caregiver. In fact, he is downright worthless. There are only two things Dad seems particularly concerned with in this world and those are 1) himself and 2) his bank account. So far he has shown little ability for dealing with Mom's disease. He's not treating her very well. She frequently becomes confused over real simple stuff and instead of Dad helping her out he gets all angry and starts yelling at her. Yelling only makes her more upset and confused. It's cruel. I've asked him a number of times to stop acting that way towards her, then I've told him to stop and now we're getting to the point where I'm threatening him with violence if he doesn't stop. I swear he's such a fucking asshole. And he wonders why I rarely ever talk to him or visit.

See, Dad has this aggressive obnoxious Type A personality. He's real weird about everything in the house always being spotless and in perfect order. As a kid I used to call him "Mr. White Gloves" behind his back. If I had dared to make fun of him to his face I would have got the daylights beat out of me. He's obsessed with little pieces of fluff on the carpet or crumbs on the dining room floor. Everything is always spotless. With an Alzheimer's patient around they do stuff like going to place a pen on the counter, but a few feet away from it just drop the pen on the floor. In their mind they put it on the counter like usual but in reality it's lying on the ground. Any person who had even a small shred of compassion or understanding would know you pick the pen up for them and put it away without complaining, or yelling, or having an angry meltdown. In the grand scheme of things shit like that doesn't matter. Well, in my father's fucked up little world an incident like that is cause for a total freakout. Similar petty problems are coming up all the time every damn day. He just can't handle it. I wish he'd shut up for a change.