Fires, Finding Eddie, and Food Professionals ...
, Lidia was in Home Depot with her husband Alex, and two youngest kids. They're walking around, having fun and buying items for the house. Suddenly, a man comes running into the store saying that someone's car is on fire. Alex turned to Lidia and shruged his shoulders ... cause that kind of thing just never happens to *you*. It's what you see on Fox 5 news and lend a sympathetic "wow" to your screen. They purchase their merchandise and leave the building to see a group of people huddled around a large truck fire....their, large truck fire. Smoke spiraling high into the nights sky, and the well kept, 2001 white 4x4 was all a blaze. Lidia, speechless and in shock reached for her cell phone. To call the cops? To call the fire dept? No. To take a photo with her phone camera. That in itself speaks volumes about Lidia's personality; and why it's no secret that she's one of my favorite people at work. They still don't know what caused the fire; but it seemed as though her main concern were the melted fishnet stockings the police found from last Halloween, plastered to what used to be called, the backseat.
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When you walk into work late, there's a certain "M"ystery that seems to take hold of your initial experience. As if those 10 or 15 minutes of you not being there allowed your co-workers in on some major collective secret. And you, walking through those front doors, give your apology and excuses with a heart still beating fast from the last half hour of driving above the speed limit in a small villiage - nearly running over a pedestrian crossing the street to buy the weeks worth of milk at the local Dairy Barn. You're walking towards to the punch-in clock, wondering when your life went from living in a college town to worrying about morning traffic and actually having a dairy barn in proximity to anything you do. You struggle to belong to the day, as everyone else seems warm and comfortable in their armless, rolling chairs ... busy with their own tasks. Lidia turns to me and tells me there's a Code M in progress, but it's only a practice run.
Definition:
Code M - Patient Missing; when a code M is in progress each professional member of the facility is assigned a specific task to try to locate the missing individual. Once found, you must take it upon yourself to apprehend the patient and bring them back to the facility S.T.A.T.
The person who we were searching for was Eddie, assistant head of maintanence - and all around bronx-boy. If Homer Simpson's phrases were actual sounds, a "DOH" would have definitely been my sound effect for the moment. Only 5 minutes earlier, as I'm pondering the dairy during my finger print analysis ...I had seen Eddie, walking towards the door. I complimented him on his jacket, and he had a strange "i'm up to something" smile. But he usually did. I told Lidia that, and she just laughed at me. He was "found" about 10 minutes later by someone in recreation. It's not like she won a 2001 fire-ridden 4x4 or anything, but it still would have been nice to be me.
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You work diligently at your desk, discussing Yankees baseball with your co-workers when the head of dietary saunters in with his usual "yea, you want me baby" strutt. "Hola Dianna." "Hola Mike." He asked me why I only had one button-buttoned on my shirt (I had on a white tank top underneath), and seemed all too occupied with my wardrobe. I explained that it was because I didn't feel like wearing a tight shirt. Somehow, this conversation leads into us having a wrestling match right then and there. It didn't happen mind you, but we tried hard to call eachother's bluff. He said he wanted to see if I could handcuff him, being that he's 6'4 and 250lbs. I told him to bring it, whereas I wouldn't dare back away from a challenge - especially one that through my potential career into light. He seemed impressed that I wasn't backing down, and asked me to bring in sneakers tomorrow for a "test of wills". I'm thinking this is one challenge I should walk away from...before I end up having my next journal entry end up on a sexual harassment petition.
____________________________________________________________________
When you walk into work late, there's a certain "M"ystery that seems to take hold of your initial experience. As if those 10 or 15 minutes of you not being there allowed your co-workers in on some major collective secret. And you, walking through those front doors, give your apology and excuses with a heart still beating fast from the last half hour of driving above the speed limit in a small villiage - nearly running over a pedestrian crossing the street to buy the weeks worth of milk at the local Dairy Barn. You're walking towards to the punch-in clock, wondering when your life went from living in a college town to worrying about morning traffic and actually having a dairy barn in proximity to anything you do. You struggle to belong to the day, as everyone else seems warm and comfortable in their armless, rolling chairs ... busy with their own tasks. Lidia turns to me and tells me there's a Code M in progress, but it's only a practice run.
Definition:
Code M - Patient Missing; when a code M is in progress each professional member of the facility is assigned a specific task to try to locate the missing individual. Once found, you must take it upon yourself to apprehend the patient and bring them back to the facility S.T.A.T.
The person who we were searching for was Eddie, assistant head of maintanence - and all around bronx-boy. If Homer Simpson's phrases were actual sounds, a "DOH" would have definitely been my sound effect for the moment. Only 5 minutes earlier, as I'm pondering the dairy during my finger print analysis ...I had seen Eddie, walking towards the door. I complimented him on his jacket, and he had a strange "i'm up to something" smile. But he usually did. I told Lidia that, and she just laughed at me. He was "found" about 10 minutes later by someone in recreation. It's not like she won a 2001 fire-ridden 4x4 or anything, but it still would have been nice to be me.
____________________________________________________________________
You work diligently at your desk, discussing Yankees baseball with your co-workers when the head of dietary saunters in with his usual "yea, you want me baby" strutt. "Hola Dianna." "Hola Mike." He asked me why I only had one button-buttoned on my shirt (I had on a white tank top underneath), and seemed all too occupied with my wardrobe. I explained that it was because I didn't feel like wearing a tight shirt. Somehow, this conversation leads into us having a wrestling match right then and there. It didn't happen mind you, but we tried hard to call eachother's bluff. He said he wanted to see if I could handcuff him, being that he's 6'4 and 250lbs. I told him to bring it, whereas I wouldn't dare back away from a challenge - especially one that through my potential career into light. He seemed impressed that I wasn't backing down, and asked me to bring in sneakers tomorrow for a "test of wills". I'm thinking this is one challenge I should walk away from...before I end up having my next journal entry end up on a sexual harassment petition.