Entegeschichten
So I got something of a surprise a few weeks ago that I had meant to share, but hadn't bothered yet. I was heading out of work one day a few weeks ago and as I was leaving I happened to look to my left and saw a box stacked up behind some other stuff in the refinishing shop area. What's so special about a box you say? Well, it was not the box specifically, but what was written on it. This particular box came from LE Johnson Products in good old Elkhart, IN. Now, I don't generally get to see a whole lot of stuff from back home very often so that in itself was something of an oddity. But the real wierd bit is that not only did I live in Elkhart for nearly eight years, but I worked at that same company as a summer job. God, that was a horrible job. They are a sliding door factory. Actually, Mykal and I both worked there. We both got fired due to the management being considerable douchebags. Myke was unfortunate enough to have clocked in three minutes late one too many times. (i.e. three)
My firing from that place of employment was a little more sinister. Our good friend Kayla's family has a lakehouse on Lake Michigan where we all would congregate during summers. One particular weekend we were tubing and I was on the tube with my then girlfriend. (hey had one of those wedge, two person tubes) At one point, she decides that she's had enough and is going to get off. Which leaves me, scrambling on this big damn flotation device. Before being ripped from the unforgiving nylon, the thing actually caught air and I flew for a good 50 feet before the slack finally caught and the tube was yanked rather sharply in a downward fashion. It hurt.
The next day was Sunday and my shoulder hurt really bad still. I figured I'd just torn a muscle or something minor like that and I'd be fine in a day. Monday comes along and I go to work. After about fifteen minutes it becomes very apparent that I can't lift my arm above my chest, nor can I lift more than about ten pounds with that arm. Herein lies the problem as my entire job pretty much consisted of lifting my arms above my head, and moving heavy shit around. I go to my boss and say that I should probably go to the hospital as I'm in screaming agony at the time. He agrees.
I visit the doctor and get checked out complete with x-rays where I find that I have not merely torn a muscle in my shoulder, oh no, I have ripped my rotator cuff. This is bad. Like, physical therapy, bad. So the appointment is made for that coming Thursday and I go home. Later that day I call work and talk to Paul (the boss) and explain to him what has happened. I ask if it's okay for me to go to the appointment, he says sure. The next two days I get put at a differnt machine (as I can't exactly do the job I'd been doing for the previous two months). Thursday comes and to the therapy I go. Friday I come in to work, arm in sling. I work the entire day, and five minutes to quitting time I get called into Paul's office where I'm told that due to my absences this week I've gone over the allowed amount and I didn't have to come in next week, or ever again. Assholes.
Anyway, yeah, LE Johnson box at work. Kinda funny, actually.
Explanation of the subject title, go here. See if you love it nearly as much as I do.
My firing from that place of employment was a little more sinister. Our good friend Kayla's family has a lakehouse on Lake Michigan where we all would congregate during summers. One particular weekend we were tubing and I was on the tube with my then girlfriend. (hey had one of those wedge, two person tubes) At one point, she decides that she's had enough and is going to get off. Which leaves me, scrambling on this big damn flotation device. Before being ripped from the unforgiving nylon, the thing actually caught air and I flew for a good 50 feet before the slack finally caught and the tube was yanked rather sharply in a downward fashion. It hurt.
The next day was Sunday and my shoulder hurt really bad still. I figured I'd just torn a muscle or something minor like that and I'd be fine in a day. Monday comes along and I go to work. After about fifteen minutes it becomes very apparent that I can't lift my arm above my chest, nor can I lift more than about ten pounds with that arm. Herein lies the problem as my entire job pretty much consisted of lifting my arms above my head, and moving heavy shit around. I go to my boss and say that I should probably go to the hospital as I'm in screaming agony at the time. He agrees.
I visit the doctor and get checked out complete with x-rays where I find that I have not merely torn a muscle in my shoulder, oh no, I have ripped my rotator cuff. This is bad. Like, physical therapy, bad. So the appointment is made for that coming Thursday and I go home. Later that day I call work and talk to Paul (the boss) and explain to him what has happened. I ask if it's okay for me to go to the appointment, he says sure. The next two days I get put at a differnt machine (as I can't exactly do the job I'd been doing for the previous two months). Thursday comes and to the therapy I go. Friday I come in to work, arm in sling. I work the entire day, and five minutes to quitting time I get called into Paul's office where I'm told that due to my absences this week I've gone over the allowed amount and I didn't have to come in next week, or ever again. Assholes.
Anyway, yeah, LE Johnson box at work. Kinda funny, actually.
Explanation of the subject title, go here. See if you love it nearly as much as I do.