Goodbye, Dolly!

(With apologies to Jerry Herman . . . Sing it with me...)

Goodbye, Dolly,
Well goodbye, Dolly,
It's so nice to have you back where you belong.

(Anywhere but here!)

We needed rain, Dolly,
but you were a pain, Dolly,
With your blowin, and your growin',
You kept goin' strong.

We felt the room swayin'
With your storm’s sprayin’
But you didn’t bring the rain we needed then, so...

Take all your wind, Dolly
Take your counterclockwise spin, Dolly
Promise you'll never come this way again!


Total rainfall at our house in Victoria, Texas: barely over one inch. We're going to have to start watering the yard again this weekend, looks like.

There were times when the Weather Channel radar showed a wide swath of dark green rain right over us for fairly long periods of time, but not a drop hit the ground. Much of the past few days the sun has been shining brightly.

But now that I've complained, we'll probably get the next storm right through this area, category 4, and we'll all drown in the flooding. Some folks are never happy, right?

Hello, Dolly!

Please go away, Dolly.

Although I guess we could use the rain.

How about . . . Stay weak, Dolly, but give us about 3-4 inches of rain over a tw0-day period. Is that too much to ask?

If so, then just go away.

Stay tuned . . .

Pictures of a REALLY FOXY gal!

(With a title like that, who KNOWS how many hits I'll get!?)

Well, here she is:

TOLD ya she was foxy!

Over the July 4th weekend, Carol and I went to Alabama to play golf (go figure!) at one of the stops on Alabama's Robert Trent Jones Golf Trail. The venue was Capitol Hills near Montgomery. That location has THREE full 18-hole courses, each of which is different in style and character.

One of those courses ("The Senator") is links style, meaning no trees but just mounds along both sides of most fairways. These mounds are covered with DEEP, thick, ball-eating rough.

That's where we saw the fox. Actually Carol spotted her trotting across a fairway and heading into the mounds where she stopped to enjoy the view, and then to hunt for breakfast.

This shot I like to call "The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog." If you've ever taken a typing course (keyboarding now?), you'll get the reference.

But then she goes into hunting mode!

Here she's looking left . . .

Looking up . . .

Looking down . . .

And looking right. Ever hear of a fox-tail brush? Now you know where the name came from.

Oooooh! She heard something!

She stalks . . .

She leaps again!

Takes a perfect point . . .

. . And comes away with the prize!

What did she get? You tell me!

What's that? You want to know how the golf was? Who CARES about the golf with views like this around the course.

(I wonder if I could hire the fox to help me find my golf balls that ended up in that rough . . .)

Just found a great new blog

called "I work for lunatics."

Here's the link.

There's not much there yet, but it shows promise. Almost sounds like someone I used to read all the time who lived in Chicago.

Check it out. Tell the author John sent you!

I guess it HAD to happen.

My daughter Christina, her husband, and her son (my ONLY grandchild) came to visit from Tampa this week. We only get to see her about 2-3 times each year, and grandson is now three (and as cute as you can possibly imagine!), so we look forward to seeing them all.

There was only ONE problem. Christina had read my post of May 24 about the dreaded “C” (which shall remain unnamed in this post) and immediately began to experience its effects. Within a few days her car died (alternator failure), her toilet overflowed, and she dropped and broke a new, expensive pair of sunglasses.

All in all, I’d say she got off easy! A few days after she and her family arrived here in Texas, our home air conditioner failed.

Now it has only failed one other time in the last 9 years. So how would it “know” to fail when we have company staying here, AND when the daytime highs were in the low to mid 90s? How ELSE can you explain this except for the dreaded “C”? As is typical in these cases, the “C” tends to strike at the worst possible time.

Oh, the failure happened to be a $350 part, but NOT the compressor (which is still under warranty). Is that Convenient? No, it’s Crappy! And yes, BOTH begin with “C”.

So, we had to pay for the new part, plus labor to install the darn thing, plus a motel room for our visiting guests so they could get some sleep at night. And all of this when gasoline is approaching $4 a gallon! (Gasoline has nothing to do with our failed air conditioner, but I had to get my complaint in there about gas prices somehow.)

So stand by, dear readers. It appears another outbreak of the “C” is building up to full force. Just when we’ve gotten into hurricane season, too!

Kissing Frogs

The company I work for has 140 employees. By this time in 2010 I expect we’ll have 200. No recession here!

I’m the Human Resources Manager. That means that I’m responsible for all the recruiting, screening, selection, hiring, orientation and initial training for those new folks.

And, oh by the way, my little department also handles all the plant health and safety, security, benefits administration, payroll, training and recordkeeping, and general employee relations activities.

Not to mention the ISO 9001 quality program, and our participation in the OSHA VPP program as a STAR site. It seems I’m leaving something else out . . . Oh, yeah, I also sign all the payables checks, approve wire transfers, handle the uniform leasing and laundry service, and . . . I’m pretty sure there’s more.

Now don’t get me wrong: I’d rather be recruiting and hiring than laying people off! But many larger firms have a full-time recruiting group; that’s all they do. And there’s a reason for that. Recruiting—done properly—takes a lot of time, effort, and not a little skill.

You see, there are a whole lot of frogs that need to be kissed before a prince shows up. And every one of those frogs has to be treated like a potential prince until proven otherwise. Sometimes the frog/prince is only revealed in royal form after a certain style kiss. They don’t always respond immediately to a quick peck on the lips; some need a more probing, deeper kiss (in-depth interview) to reveal their hidden qualities.

On the flip side, some appear to be taking on a prince-like appearance only to have their true webbed feet and amphibian nature revealed later.

Even after an ineffective, unsuccessful buss many of those now-proven frogs keep coming back asking for another chance, another interview, etc. (Another kiss?!? BLEAH! I don’t THINK so!)

Part of the HR manager's job is to keep those frogs just happy enough that they don't claim they were somehow discriminated against or otherwise treated unfairly. (By definition, if they don't get a job offer something MUST have been unfair, right? “Hey, I’m not really an amphibian! Kiss me again and I’ll show you! It’s YOUR fault—you didn’t give me the right kind of kiss!”)

The trap I NEVER want to fall into is to answer honestly the inevitable question, “What did I do wrong? Why didn’t you choose me?”

Why not be honest? Why not just say, “Well, you’re a FROG, fly-breath, and being a prince is a BFOQ.” (In case you didn’t know, that’s short for a Bona-Fide Occupational Qualification. It’s defined as a quality which on the surface might appear to be discriminatory but can be a legal requirement in certain circumstances.) The reason is: there is just no way that a focus on the negative (“Why NOT me?”) won’t possibly come back later to haunt you as an illegal act of discrimination. (“Well, you hired three other candidates who were just as green as me!”)

So what do I do? I tell the truth! I always stick with, “Gee, I only had two (or three or four) jobs to fill, and a whole bunch of well-qualified applicants. I couldn’t hire all the ones I wanted to”(well, that might be a slight stretch). “But I’ll certainly consider you for the next opening I have if it’s something you might be qualified for!” (And THAT might be a HUGE stretch! I rationalize it by the fact that although my “consideration” might be about 0.5 seconds long, I’ll consider them!)

All that puckering up, and gathering of paperwork (applications and resumes), and setting up interviews, and following up afterwards, and answering the same questions a bunch of times takes time. A LOT of time!

But when the real, true prince appears (the well-qualified applicant with the perfect personality), it makes all that kissing (and gargling with Scope) seem worthwhile.

Till the next amphibian hops up off the lilly pad with its tongue out!

A quick trip to Lowes

When I first moved to this house 22 years ago, there were no “home improvement warehouse” stores in this town.

Oh, we had several lumber stores. We had a few hardware stores. There were at least a couple of specialty stores where you could buy plumbing supplies, or maybe electrical wiring, outlet boxes and light fixtures. But if you wanted to buy all of those things you had to drive around town and it might take you all morning.

Well, not any more!

Now, within one mile of my house you can find a huge Lowes, a Home Depot, and a McCoys building supply center! And that’s only if the nearby Wal Mart Supercenter doesn’t have what you need.

Right?

Today is Memorial Day, and Lowes has a sale on. Carol has been hot to get our backyard blackberry bed cleaned out now that all the blackberries have been picked, and part of the project is to extend a little fence we made out of PVC pipe.

Wait . . . A picture is worth a whole bunch of narrative. Here’s a shot of the end of that fence with the blackberry bushes behind it.

To extend that fence we needed six 10-foot joints of 1 ½ inch PVC, five tee fittings, five “cross” fittings, and some 5-inch nails to nail together some landscape timbers we’d already bought . I also wanted an extra-long 3/16-inch drill bit. Armed with that shopping list, we set out for Lowes at 9:00 am.

Lowes had no 5-inch nails; only 6-inch spikes. So we left and drove the half-mile to Home Depot. They ALSO had no 5-inch nails, and their 6-inch spikes were more expensive than the ones at Lowes. We decided to just get the ones at Lowes, along with everything else. After all, they were having a sale, right?

We drove back to Lowes and counted out the nails we needed. Then we learned that they were out of the long drill bit I wanted, and had NO joints of 1 ½ inch PVC pipe. But they DID have some (not all) of the fittings we needed. We bought nails and fittings, and headed for McCoy’s.

There we found 5-inch nails, but we had already bought the 6-inch ones at Lowes, so we opted to keep the ones we’d already bought. We checked the supply of PVC pipe and fittings. McCoy’s had only three joints of pipe and no fittings.

We drove back to Home Depot. There we bought the drill bit, the pipe and the remaining fittings. We were home by 11:10, having driven (it seemed) all over town and having spent most of the morning to buy the items on that short shopping list.

Progress. Ain’t it wonderful?

I apologize!

. . . For yesterday’s post. I can’t believe I wrote that just 24 hours ago. But of course I’ve now been back on my meds longer and my mind is much clearer.

I mean, all that stuff about my abduction and interrogation! Ha, ha! Let me tell you what REALLY happened.

If you’ll refer back to a PRIOR post (before the one about the Hateful, Discriminatory Nazi Porn King) you’ll see that I was having a problem with sciatica. Now I’ve had bouts with lower back pain before, but never with numbness and tingling all the way down to my foot. That scared me a bit, so I overcame my macho denial proclivity and went to see a family doctor.

His diagnosis: herniated disc L5-S1 pinching the right sciatic nerve. He referred me to a neurologist.

Neurologist’s diagnosis: herniated disc L5-S1 pinching the right sciatic nerve. He ordered an MRI to see the extent of the bulging disc.

The other tests the neurologist ran became, in my deranged mind, some of the interrogation techniques I mentioned yesterday. The doc wanted to see if there was any nerve damage or reduction of conductivity of brain signals, so he pounded on my knees and Achilles tendons to check reflexes. Then he attached small contacts to my lower leg and ankles and sent electrical impulses from other parts of my legs to measure the speed of travel of the impulse and the amount of current transmitted.

I called this test the “cattle prod” test. The doc and his assistant would tell me, “This will make your foot twitch,” and then zap me! Yeah, it “twitched” all right! I dang near kicked the assistant in her pretty mouth!

The worst part was when they hit me with a charge from under the soft, back side of the knee. She had to push the contacts in hard (and THEY were NOT soft!) and then ZAP! My whole leg jerked. I was ready to answer any question they asked me at that point if they’d promise to stop!

The final test involved inserting very thin needles into three different muscles and then having me flex those muscles. Actually, that wasn’t too painful until the following day when those muscles ached around the insertion point.

And after all that came the MRI. This was one of the “unspeakable acts” I mentioned yesterday. They put me into an “upright” MRI device, which meant I was able to sit instead of lying down. You’d think that would be more pleasant, right? But sitting is the one position that causes my leg to ache. Plus, the walls of the machine pressed in on my shoulders and arms, and they were hot! I was stuck in that thing for 45 minutes.

The results showed clearly, to everyone’s surprise, absolutely NO bulging discs! Evidently the “pinch” felt by the sciatic nerve is from arthritis in the lower spine, not a herniated disc.

And really, that’s good news. It means I’m likely NOT a candidate for surgery, and that twisting and turning is NOT likely to cause any further damage or injury.

So, after all of that whining and complaining, I’m not nearly as “bad off” as I had feared. Sometimes my macho denial proclivity isn’t off the mark!

The explanation offered here is what Carol tells me really happened over the last two weeks. She insists that I’ve been going to work every day, and that our lives have been pretty normal. The van with the dark windows is no longer parked in front of my home, so I guess she’s right. The memories (or was it a dream?) about the interrogation are fading.

But it still seems that I remember someone talking to me at length about the “conspiracy” thing and calling my description of it “paranormal.”

(Or was that “paranoia?”)

Hmmmm.

I’m back! (For now . . .)

My friends, it has been an unbelievable two weeks!

Right after that last post of mine, “they” must have figured out that I knew the van parked out front was for surveillance. The very next morning (Monday) when I was going to work, they grabbed me!

I was bound and blindfolded. They tossed me into the back of that van like a sack of potatoes (did I spell that right? Dan Quayle knows!) and drove me around for several hours. When they finally jerked the hood from my head I was in a small room with a single naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling providing dim illumination.

Then the interrogation began.

I was subjected to electric shocks! I was pierced with needles! I was denied access to my meds and held incommunicado! Unspeakable acts have been perpetrated upon my person! Oh, the pain of it all!

But did I tell them anything? HA!

They confiscated my computer and read ALL of my old blog posts. They asked me about each one of you, but I disclaimed any knowledge of you. Michelle, they wanted to know how I knew someone from South Africa! Karyn, they informed me that your name was really a pseudonym! Who knew?!

Then they found my posts about the . . . (shhhh!) “ycaripsnoc” and wanted more information. Well, I confess. I told them. I mean, how could I NOT tell them when all the details were spelled out in various blog posts? And besides, by then I’d been off my meds for over a week!

So be warned! Having been publically acknowledged after such a long period of silence, the ycaripsnoc is liable to be unleashed with terrible strength upon all of us! I only warn you for your own good, but be prepared for terrible “seeming coincidences” involving failures of mechanical, electrical, electronic and structural devices and entities.

In fact, I fear that the earthquake in China AND the cyclone that hit Myanmar may be only the first outbreak of forces. Who knows WHAT else might happen? Natural disasters are just the beginning.

Anyway, after I divulged everything about the ycaripsnoc the interrogators seemed to lose interest in me. They gave me a shot of something, and I next woke up in my own bed this morning. My computer is back. Everything SEEMS just as it used to be!

Carol claims I was never gone, but I know better! However, some of the more vivid memories of the interrogation are beginning to fade now that I’m back on my meds. But that’s probably all part of the drugs they used on me—likely they included an amnesia-inducing agent.

I’ll fool them though! This post will be written proof of what happened to me even after my memory of it is gone.

I guess.

I THINK I was gone.

But I’m beginning to wonder . . .

Meet the hateful/discriminatory Nazi porn king

According to some, that would be, uh . . . me.

Several years ago my son-in-law downloaded some freeware utility program onto my computer. It did what it was suppose to do, but it also contained a worm that allowed its creator to send pornographic emails through my computer (and thus seen as coming from MY IP address!).

It took me a while to convince my ISP (Internet Service Provider) NOT to cancel my account once the complaints started coming in. I removed the nasty worm, and all was well again.

That explains the “porn king” part of my title.

As for the hateful and discriminatory Nazi part, that came yesterday. Here’s the story.

In 1974 I bought and moved into a small house in Corpus Christi. This dwelling had been built in the 1930s and had one electrical circuit (protected by a single 30-amp fuse) serving the entire place! The first thing we did was hire an electrician to have the place wired according to modern codes.

But in the attic (which I had entered to install insulation, since it had none!) I found a folded-up burlap bag. Pictures below.


Well, I thought that was interesting; an actual piece of WWII Nazi memorabilia! I decided I'd keep it, since someday it might be worth something.

But Carol has been saying for some time (several years, I think) that it's time to get rid of that old thing. So yesterday, since I still can't swing a golf club (see post below), I decided I would list the item on eBay and see what I could get for it.

After all, a quick Google search found a very similar bag which had sold on a different auction site recently for $60! Hey, that's a small tank of gas these days!

And although a search of eBay using the word "Nazi" resulted in well over 2,000 items (mostly coins and stamps) being auctioned, not one of them was a burlap bag! I figured I had a real find. A unique item! It might actually bring enough for TWO tanks of gas!


I prepared the listing, entitling it "Nazi burlap bag." I arranged the pictures, went through all the details of figuring shipping costs and payment options, and submitted entire thing for auction.

Several hour later I received the following email:

Dear tx_duke_of_earle,

You recently listed the following auction-style listing:

280225922979 - Nazi burlap bag

The was removed because it violated the eBay Hateful or Discriminatory policy. We notified members who placed bids on the item that the listing has been canceled.

In order to ensure that all listings are consistent with the spirit of the worldwide community, eBay members are not allowed to sell items that may be viewed as promoting or glorifying hatred, violence, and racial or religious intolerance. Items that promote organizations with these views are also prohibited.

Accordingly, members are not allowed to sell items (such as helmets, daggers, and medals) that bear the Nazi, Neo-Nazi, or Aryan Nation symbols. Even if members block, crop, or simply don't show the organization's symbol in their listing, the items are still not permitted on eBay. Members are also not allowed to sell items that were owned by or affiliated with Nazi leaders.

Okay then! I somehow failed to realize that I was promoting any organization that "glorified hatred, violence, and racial or religious intolerance." I just wanted to sell an old burlap bag!

Now, if half of what I read about the FBI, NSA, and Office of Homeland Security is accurate, I am probably now on at least a dozen lists of possible terrorists or hate criminals. Likely the next time I try to fly on a commercial airline I will be detained, strip-searched, and subjected to all kinds of indignities and accusations before (IF) I'm allowed to board the plane.

In fact, this morning there's been a strange van with blacked-out windows parked in front of my house, and I think someone has rifled through my garbage cans.

I'm going to check with the State Department to see if my passport is still valid. And if you don't see any blog posts from me for several weeks, you'll know they've got me in an interrogation room somewhere beating out of me everyhing I know.

Come to think of it, you might want to reformat your hard drive to erase any evidence that you've ever read this blog, or YOU may be up for interrogation next!

Sciatica

I’m like a lot of guys – or people of both genders, I guess. I’m subject to occasional lower back pain.

Sometimes it’s brought on by an event; like lifting and twisting, or jerking hard on the starter rope of a chain saw. Other times I just wake up, roll out of bed, and go to my knees in sudden pain.

Carol takes apparent pleasure in telling people about my “bad back.” For example, when the neighbors ask her why she does all the heavy lifting during a yard project she’ll tell them, “Oh, I don’t want John getting near these concrete blocks – he’ll throw his back out.”

Which could be true. And which I don’t mind, because she can seemingly lift several times her own (rather slight) weight and never have a twinge.

When I have these bouts, the pain is almost always centered in the same spot on my left side. This made one doctor think that maybe I had a bone problem rather than just muscle pain, but we never pursued that theory.

Anyway, what I have now is different from anything I’ve experienced before. It has all the classic symptoms of sciatica.

It began on Sunday at (you guessed it), the golf course. I had noticed a little soreness on my right side for several days, but nothing severe. We played golf on Saturday (scroll down for the picture!) with no problems. I walked all 18 holes.

But on Sunday, on the second tee, I took a swing and felt that “take your breath away” sharp pain that told me immediately, “Your golf is finished for today!”

The stabbing, pulsing nastiness was centered right about where they typically give you a shot in the buttocks. This was different from my normal back pain. I could bend just fine, but certain motions sent a searing flame down the back of my right thigh.

By Monday morning my thigh was aching and the soreness was descending into my calf. By Monday afternoon the whole right leg ached, and the sole of my foot was almost numb, but with that “pins and needles” tingling that signals either a loss of circulation or a nerve problem.

Classic sciatica.

The sciatic nerve extends from the lower spine all the way down the back of each leg. Any inflammation of that nerve causes exactly what I’m experiencing.

The internet tells me that this pain usually moderates and goes away within a few weeks. To maybe a year!

I’m counting on a lot less than that.

Gorgeous day at the golf course!

And look what we saw:



This little guy was so tiny, I'd guess he was just "dropped" last night.

How tiny was he?

Well, here's a shot of him with me just a few feet away. All curled up like that, he was about the size of a football.



Yes, that's what I look like in my golfing togs. Ain't he cute?

(No, the fawn!)

A Recent Editorial

. . . in our local paper. See what you think. My comments are below.


In the minds of many, the "zero" in the term Zero Tolerance is clear and unequivocal.

In street vernacular, the concept is expressed thusly: If you do the crime, you gotta do the time.

But recent events involving the discovery of a gun on school grounds in Port Lavaca have others questioning whether a Zero Tolerance policy flies in the face of common sense.

Here are the facts: On Monday, a K-9 unit conducting a routine drill found an unloaded gun in a truck driven by a 16-year-old student at Hope High School in Port Lavaca.

School officials, following strict Zero Toler­ance school policy regarding guns on campus, expelled the student.

On first glance, this appears to be an appropriate use of the school policy of Zero Toler­ance. After all, recent tragedies at schools and universities around the country have made it painfully clear that guns have no place in our educational institutions.

Zero Tolerance proponents argue forcefully that the policy is necessary to prevent future tragedies. The unambiguous nature of this policy, proponents say, is a powerful tool to keep weapons away from our schools.

But there are important mitigating facts about this particular case.

First, all parties agree that the student was unaware that a pistol was in the vehicle.

Second, no one on campus was ever threatened by the weapon.

And, finally, the vehicle the gun was found in was the pickup truck of the student's father, who works for the Calhoun County Sheriff's Department.

We have spoken out many times in this space about school officials' right and respon­sibility to ensure safe campuses. Calhoun County ISD officials acted within the scope of the zero tolerance policy by expelling the student.

But, we maintain, in this particular instance, the "crime" doesn't fit the punishment. We wonder if, in cases where there are clear mit­igating facts, Zero Tolerance does more harm to the student than the good it is designed to do in promoting school safety.

We wonder, in this case, if a rational review of the facts shouldn't lead to the student be­ing reinstated.

We wonder if zero tolerance in this case goes just a bit too far.


My comment: Excuse me!?! You “wonder?”

I wonder too. But what I wonder is: What the HELL are you “wondering” about? At least you had the good sense to put the word “crime” in quotation marks.

Any rational person would be able to see immediately several things:

1. There was no crime committed. Period.
2. Therefore no “punishment” (to the student) was appropriate.

Given the fact and circumstances of the discovery of the gun, the student should have been taken from the school and the incident investigated. Absent any knowledge on her part (the sudent WAS a girl, by the way) of the presence of the gun, or of any intent to do harm (both of which, in my opinion, shouldn’t be too hard to ascertain), then the focus should be placed on the careless father – the irresponsible party in this case.

(Further comment):

This case illustrates a common principle that has been expressed from Biblical times (or before) to today. To paraphrase from Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians, “the letter (of the law) kills, but the spirit gives life.”

Yeah, I know. In context Paul is talking about the letter of the Old Covenant law, and that the Holy Spirit gives life. But in another context, and often today, we can find laws and rules that are intended for good (the “spirit” of the law), but which, if enforced strictly to their letter with no ifs, ands or buts, end up being (take your pick): stupid, unjust, cruel, harmful, counterproductive, etc., (i.e.: they “kill”).

I’ve got lots of examples. But this post is already way too long, and I don’t usually take a political stance or “preach” on this blog, so I’ll close.

For now.

The power of a badge and a gun

Last night one of our temporary contract employees put down some tools and left the area for a few minutes. When he returned, the tools were gone.

He was unhappy, which is understandable.

But things progressed from looking around and asking questions, to raised voices, to aggressive body language, to threats and pure unbridled belligerence. A few swings were taken. Luckily, none landed.

The on-site contract supervisor asked for some backup from our off-duty sheriff’s deputy who was moonlighting for us. The law officer came to the scene, and all belligerence stopped immediately. There’s just something about that badge and gun that often takes the fight right out of a man.

The unhappy employee was escorted off the plant site, relieved of his entrance pass, and sent home to cool off.

It turned out that they weren’t his personal tools anyway, but some he was using that belonged to the plant. All he’d needed to do was go over to the warehouse and check out some more. We would then have either found the tools, or been watching for them trying to walk out the gate at shift change; but he would have been cleared and still on the job.

Sure, getting a replacement set would have required him to go (in a golf cart, by the way) some distance away and request it, but that would have been easier than working. But long hours and many days with no time off bring about short fuses.

We decided that our temporary security force (the deputy) was certainly worth what we’re paying to have them there.

H R was giving out pink slips

(Another Turnaround Tale.)

And I was loving it!

I made a big show of walking down the hall, handing employees an 8 1/2 by 11 sheet of pink paper, and telling them, "Here's your pink slip from H R!"

One or two of them actually started to get a look of shock on their faces, but that look was quickly replaced by a grin.

What was going on? We have so many vehicles more than normal in the plant parking areas that we had to assign different parking zones to people depending upon where they reported to work. The folks who work in the Adminisration building were assigned to the north parking area. Each area was color-coded. Guess what color went with the north parking area.

The idea was that in the morning we have attendants at the entrance to each parking area. If you don't have a piece of pink-colored paper (your parking slip) with "North Parking Area" printed on it, you won't be allowed into that lot.

My point is that a huge amount of planning goes into one of these turnarounds to ensure not only that we have enough workers and materials, but that there are extra rest rooms (porta-potties, mostly), wash rooms, eating areas, clothes-changing areas, and other necessary infrastructure and facilities to handle 5-10 times the normal crowds.

Just like a big public event, parking has to be controlled as well.

Oh, and this weekend we had a first! On Sunday, we randomly tested 34 people for drugs and alcohol, and nobody tested positive! (First test in two weeks that didn't result in at least one worker leaving the plant.)

As you can tell, we really DON'T look forward to these turnarounds.

But we don't usually get to hand out pink slips, either.

Another Turnaround Tale

Several days ago at my plant, an employee (out of several hundred) of contract firm “A” approached an employee of contract firm “B” with a proposition. Something like . . .

“Hey, man, I got a great idea. There are hundreds of us A company employees here, and nobody can keep track of all of us at one time. There are also hundreds of you B company guys here.

“Why don’t you help me get hired onto B company’s payroll to work with you?

“I’ll keep my job with A company. Every day I’ll show up, report in to both bosses, and keep busy. If your boss asks you if you’ve seen me, you can vouch for me that I’m really doing a great job. I’ll punch both time clocks, and nobody’ll know that I’m pulling down two pay checks.

“I’ll split my second check with you! It’ll work!”

And you know, it just might have worked!

Fortunately for us the B company employee declined, and came to tell our plant safety supervisor, Jay, the story. Jay called the on-site superintendents of both A and B companies, passed on the allegation, and left things in their hands.

They investigated. They determined that the story was the truth.

They debated the merits of letting the dishonest employee actually carry out his scheme for one pay period and then file theft and conspiracy charges. (Please note that I spelled “conspiracy” with a lower case “c”. I DO NOT want to stir up the OTHER one, with the upper case “c”!!) But The B company superintendent didn’t want to let his company be scammed, even as a “sting” operation, so the A company boss fired the conspiring fellow and sent him off to attempt his dirty deeds elsewhere.

It’s a shame he didn’t apply his craftiness to better ways of getting his work done. He might have been able to earn his way into a much bigger paycheck he didn’t have to split with anyone.

Well, anyone except Uncle Sam. (I had to throw that in, since today is Tax Day Eve.)

Turnaround Tales

Process plants, such as refineries and chemical manufacturing facilities, take what they call “turnarounds.” They will shut down a production unit, “turn it around,” (perform major maintenance and cleaning which can only be done when the pumps, motors, and other equipment is cool and de-energized), and then start it back up again to resume production.

Since the plant is losing huge potential income and profits while it’s out of production, management spends great sums of money to ensure that the turnaround takes as short a time as possible. This includes working half the plant personnel on days and the other half on nights, 12 hours on and 12 hours off, seven days a week with no days off until the turnaround is complete. It also includes hiring outside contract firms to provide hundreds of additional skilled, semi-skilled, or unskilled laborers to get the work done quickly.

Yes, my plant is in the middle of one such turnaround.

We’re a small plant. Our normal staffing level is 140 employees plus about 50 permanent contract folks. Right now we have over 500 people in the plant all day and all night, Mary Ann. (That’s a song reference, in case you didn’t get it. Harry Belafonte. Some sources have it as “Marianne.”)

Having that many temporary workers in a small plant for a month or so requires some adjustments. For instance, we had to create a new parking lot for the nearly 400 extra vehicles coming and going twice each 24-hour period. We also had to arrange for some extra plant security, especially around shift-change time, to prevent a lot of tools and other expensive equipment from walking out the plant gate hidden among the crowds of people.

Last Thursday our plant employee gate attendant (NOT a security guard) noticed a man walking by dragging a length of heavy-looking insulated wire. She stopped him and asked what he had. He dropped it and ran to his car.

The wire turned out to be a heavy-duty copper welding lead, probably worth all of $25 at a metal scrap dealer but costing several hundred dollars to buy. The county sheriff was called, the man apprehended, and charges were pressed. The point wasn’t so much to punish the man as to make a point to all the others who might be tempted.

In fact, the man was mostly unhappy about the fact that he was caught when, he said, nobody else was; the inference being that many were getting away with similar theft.

Yes, he confessed. We made a public show of having three sheriff’s cars (with lights flashing) park for over 30 minutes at the plant entrance before taking the man off in handcuffs.

It was mostly for show. We also had several deputies stroll through the big new parking lot looking into cars. They weren’t really expecting to find anything, but they were very visible.

Will all of that help? Maybe. But probably not as much as the fact that we’ve now hired several off-duty deputies to stand at the gate in uniform (wearing their weapon) as people come and go at shift change. We’ll see.

Today I signed the biggest check...

. . . of my entire life.

The amount was over 1.3 million dollars!

Too bad it was a check from my company to a vendor who is providing manpower and materials for a major process unit refurbishing.

No, I don't get a cut. And no, I don't have the sole power to approve amounts like that. By policy all checks for over $5,000 require two signatures.

But for a few minutes, mine was the only signature on that puppy. I considered making a copy and framing it, but decided it really wouldn't impress anybody so what was the point?

Anyway, right now we are going through a 30-day maintenance shutdown on most of the plant's equipment. This happens about once every three years, and it's VERY expensive. One of the biggest costs is the lost production while we're down, so we spend whatever it takes to minimize the downtime.

Including bringing in several hundred extra people to disassemble things; rebuild, repair or replace them; and then reassemble them. Also including replacing a lot of items that may have useful life left in them, but which might not last all of the next 3 years. We don't want an equipment failure to force us to shut down early, or on an emergency basis.

Why do I sign checks when I'm the Human Resources manager? Well, it's one of those practices that are in place to make stealing or embezzlement more difficult. The more people involved in the process of paying your bills, the bigger a conspiracy would have to be to actually steal.

So one person approves the invoice, another prepares the check, another (one or two) actually sign(s) the check, and yet another mails the check to the payee. The finance manager oversees this process. I got to be one of the "lucky" ones whose signature is registered at our bank.

Thus today I signed away well over a million dollars with a flourish of the pen, shrugged as if it wasn't my money and so didn't matter, and went onto the next check.

**sigh**

I thought about putting my name on the "Pay to the order of" line, but decided I like my job too much.

(Maybe if it had been 3 million . . .)

Golf course hazards

You never know what you’re going to encounter on a golf course. Including, of course, errant golf balls struck by other golfers – or even by yourself!

I think the most painful injury I ever sustained on a golf course was self-inflicted. The ball was close to a concrete cart path and had to be hit across the path toward the hole, but kept low to avoid tree limbs ahead.

Yes, I know . . . if you stay in the fairway you don’t face these problems. But c’mon—not even Tiger Woods’ ball lands in the fairway every time!

Anyway, I took a mighty swing and succeeded in keeping the ball low. In fact, it was SO low that it hit the one-inch-high edge of the concrete path and ricocheted back and up striking the back of my leading wrist as I continued the swing toward a follow-through. That follow-through was never achieved. I let go of the club and was completely convinced I had broken the wrist.

No, I didn’t let loose with a string of colorful words. Don’t be disappointed—it wasn’t due to my great restraint. Nor did it have anything to do with my respect for the sanctity of the quiet, pastoral environment. Rather, it was simply a matter of my inability to draw a breath or find my voice in the face of the blinding, searing pain!

Turned out it was "only" a deep briuse, but it still hurt like . . . Well, it hurt.

And there are other hazards to be aware of on the course besides those white spherical missiles. One such hazard is the amazing Texas tree-climbing turtle.

What? You don’t think turtles can climb trees?

Well, think again. I have photographic proof!

And lest you suspect that I might have placed that turtle in the tree, here’s another shot—this time with TWO turtles on their way up.

Everyone knows about water hazards on golf courses. Almost every course has at least a few well-placed wet areas that have an unnatural attraction for white plastic-coated spheroids. But what many fail to realize, or think about, is what (besides hundreds of golf balls) might be IN that wet area.

Here’s one example:




(Any of you herpetologists out there care to tell me what species this is?)

And finally, there are aggressive, nasty geese.

What . . . you don’t think geese are particularly hazardous? Well, take a gander at the face of this . . . er. . . gander. He’s hissing! Check out that tongue!




You’ve heard the expression, “As rare as hen’s teeth,” right? You think a goose doesn’t have teeth? Well take a really close look at this guy’s oral weaponry, and tell me that you’re not reminded of a Tyrannosaurus Rex.

Have you seen this one?

(It's making the rounds of internet email.)


"I GOT STOPPED FOR SPEEDING YESTERDAY.

I THOUGHT I COULD TALK MY WAY OUT OF IT,
UNTIL THE COP LOOKED AT MY DOG IN THE BACK SEAT . . ."

Well, I thought it was pretty funny.

But maybe that's because I don't have a dog any more . . .

And because I HAVE been known to "push the limits."

A bit.

At times.

(I particularly liked the claw marks on the seat!)