Work war stories

cannot hold a candle to that - great job - but you make me LOL about yer arse........

... and something about abuzz?

i've got a war story -- i'll post it tmrw...

Hmmmm - millions - but a special one I recall was from student days - when I worked at a cellar coffee place - in full evening clobber and wreathed in forced courtly smiles and gushing hostessish - ptooey.

Anyway - the only way water could leave that cellar was via pumps - and when they failed - we were flooded.

One night, I arrived at work to find the kitchen flooded, cos the pumps had failed - and, coincidentally, there had been termites, which had been poisoned that very day.

So - the kitchen was awash in poisonous, dead termite-encrusted water - no washing up could be done once the first wash-up water was too dirty to use, cos the sinks wouldn't drain - and I was alone - but a note informed me that it was my job to get the poisonous soup out of the kitchen - at least enough to stop the lounge from flooding - all without the customers suspecting a thing, while serving them in a reasonable simulacrum of a serene, untroubled, warm and sophisticated hostess....


This meant hiking my dress up to my knees, mopping up - and hand-wringing the mop - putting my dress down, running up a steep spiral staircase in an unobtrusive manner with a bucket of poisonous dead termite soup - checking the busy street for cops - (water situation illegal - as was poisoning the storm-water) - and throwing the water into the gutter.

For nine hours - (it was a busy evening - and I didn't get to close up until after four am.) - I ran out to serve customers with the dress lowered - made coffee, served food, cleaned up in the lounge, wittily badinaged - then ran into the rapidly overflowing kitchen, hiked my dress up, mopped desperately, ran up the stairs with the buckets - while the dishes towered ever higher around me -

I realised I had got the rhythm wrong when a large crowd of male customers stared at my legs with wide eyes - and I realised my evening dress was hiked up to my thighs - and the bottom of it was dripping, cos I had been lowering it when I ran into the kitchen to mop, and raising it to come out!

That was a LITTLE difficult to explain.

Anyhow - at the end, the termites were all gone, the floor was spotless - but I had to get up at 7 am to run in and do the washing uo from the night before as soon as the pumps were fixed - cos the day shift would never have been able to do it and serve.

Oof.

Lots of stuff though there's confidentiality with legal practice. Here's a short one from auditing days -

When I audited law firms for an insurance company, one thing we did was ask for cash at the end for overpayments. This, of course, is not well-received, although some people take it better than others. Sat in a two-hour meeting with a bunch of attorneys once, and we went over the findings with a fine-toothed comb. Hey, whatever, I get paid the same no matter how long the meeting takes - it was the attorneys who were at a disadvantage, as the time wasn't billable (if they were billing other clients for their meeting time with us, well, of course that's unethical but there's little I could've done about that). So we sit, and there is yelling and the table is pounded, all while I sit there and quietly talk, and the accountant I was with was insulted (it seemed to me at the time to be veiled racism) - finally an attorney throws a file at me. So the accountant and I get up to leave, as we don't have to take that kind of guff from anyone. And now suddenly the lawyers are begging me to stay, hey, let's just work this out, etc. No apologizing, by the way, and the fact that I was the only woman in a room fulla men, including the rather burly guy who'd tossed the file, was something I had to pretend didn't rattle me at all.

We finally finish the damned meeting, and the guy who tossed the file at me comes over to shake my hand and ends up giving me an awkward hug. It was then that it really hit home to me that I was dealing with a group of socially dysfunctional folks. It was also right about then that I started to seriously think about how to get different duties at my job, and stop going on the road for 200 days out of the year to work with such lunatics.

One that comes to mind ...

I was working in a florist shop. I did the accounting, general office, ordering supplies, but Valentines day was coming so I was expected to pitch in (didn't mind really) with the florists to take telephone orders, write up thousands of cards, set up delivery addresses and schedule them over a two-day period, then the day before Valentines we began preparing the bouquets, flower arrangements, wrapping, putting on bows, putting in the walk-in freezer. Worked 4 days straight - sleeping in shifts upstairs on a cot. Valentines Day itself was bedlam - we were out of flowers by early afternoon (and that was with two extra deliveries from the supplier). My fingers were raw from cutting and dethorning roses, aching from typing numerous lists and writing thousands of cards, my neck sore from taking phone orders, my voice hoarse from smoking consistently throughout (yeah, I know!) so when we finally closed shop, everything was wobbly. Stopped off for a drink on my way home and happened upon a crowd gathering to do a bungee jump over a river. Maybe it was because I was tired or not thinking straight but I decided what the hell, I'll do it! Walked up to the organizer and discovered he was having trouble finding anyone to go first so I volunteered. What a way to end the day! If I'd had any food in my belly it would have been all over the crowd but I loved it. Crawled into bed and slept for two days.

Well this one was good http://www.able2know.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=30762&postdays=0&postorder=asc&start=0 I should note that for a week, this was almost a 24-7 job due to the timing and circumstances.

did a lot of overtime in one place i worked. one weekend i had to do a full saturday & sunday. saturday around 6:00pm its starts to rain -- we're talkin' cats+dogs -- and doesn't let up.
well, there was a sofa in the manager's office. yours truly just happened to know where the secret key was hidden :wink:
so i said 'futt-the-wuck', i'll order some dinner, do a few more hours of work, then hit the sofa-sack. (there was an office cat at that time, so i had someone to keep my company.)

don't remember much about the overnight, except i definitely wanted to be awake and working early sunday am in case anyone else showed up (i don't think anyone did -- i possibly had the office to myself all weekend).
i used my coat as a pillow, and had a restless 6 hours of sleep. at one point the cat started playing with my sock-covered feet

that week i think i ended up working 74 hours -- one less than a double-week...

When I was 15 I started working at McDonalds so I could buy my own school clothes (parents didn't have alot of money at the time). My hours were 4pm-midnight mon-fri. One night my boss (who was about 35, married, 3 kids) asked me to take out the trash, so I did. The dumpster was in the back of the parking lot, dark of course, as I was standing there hurling trash into the dumpster, I looked over my shoulder and my boss is standing there, he lunged at me, threw his arms around me, I'm locked into this he man hands grouping all over me hug/hold, he starts grinding his groin against me (this all happened SO fast) he is saying thing's like "come on Paula come on", I scream "stop it" manage to get out of his clutches, (wasn't easy) and went inside grabbed my things and left.

I didn't tell my parents or anyone about this as I was the quiet child. But I did quit without notice.

Yikes Paulaj!!! Poor li'l kid - being groped by the boss SOOOO sucks!!!

I have a few kinda sad ones, so don't read on if you don't wanna - this is not for the squeamish...


This one was one of my working on the obstetrics unit ones:

It was my first day on that unit - and a woman had not long been delivered of a stillborn child. It was one of the ones where they knew the wee one had died in utero - but "normal" labour had to be endured.

Anyhoo, thankfully, these days, folk get to cuddle and hold their dead babes - for a few days, if they want to (the wee ones are returned to the cold room in the morgue in between - so...that..well, you know...).

The mum had requested grief counselling, so I popped in to introduce myself - to make a time that would suit her.

As it happened, the baby had just been brought up for them - and, very generously on the family's part, as soon as I introduced myself, they asked me if I would like to see their baby.

Of course, I said yes - and immediately the dead babe was entrusted to my arms.

I had actually never seen a dead baby before (actually, I am not sure if I had seen a dead PERSON before at that stage - except on film) - and, given the fact that the little girl had died in utero, her lovely face was marred with large black patches....but she was beautifully dressed, and lovingly wrapped in the clothes and blankets that represented her parents' love for her, and their dreams for their little girl. Her body was, of course, deathly cold......

I managed to keep my face on - but it was one of my "hide in the little-used loo on Level One until I stopped crying moments", after I had finished being with them that day.

Of course, wee baby nurses and doctors face this stuff as soon as they hit the wards - but it was a confronting moment for me - I am a wuss....



The next one was a bit later.

A woman had been admitted in prem labour - and the nurses had picked up that this was a disaster waiting to happen...

The father was, as I picked up immediately, and later was able to confirm, an extremely violent man - as with most such people are, in my experience, this meant that he was emotionally a traumatised baby - with a baby's heavy dependency needs, intense vulnerability, primitive rages and inability to understand that other beings are real, with their own needs and rights. This brew is, of course, a disaster when matched with a new baby.

The mother was so traumatised (by her life in general, not just by the father's violence) that she had, as far as I could tell, pretty much shut down years before - and lived in a fairly permanent state of dissociation - a common female reaction to the same events that may more likely create violence in some men.

Anyhoo - these folk were as capable of caring for a baby as a pair of other babies would be - only they had big bodies. This type of situation is a perfect recipe for murdered babies.

My role in such cases was rather complexly dual....partly assessment and searching for evidence that might legally enable the welfare authorities to intervene, before a death or severe injury occurred - and partly offering genuine support and assistance to the couple, to maximise the chances that they might be able to care for the child, as well as ensuring that what support services there were were in there (if the couple will accept them - often these are the very folk who will not - so one has to gain their trust very fast, to smooth the entry of later folk) if the baby had to be sent home with them.

I did get their trust - (I was kinda hoping I might be able to talk them into going straight to a live-in service from hospital - which would both give them the best chance for success, and keep the baby safe..)

In the event, when the babe was born, she was not well - and I caught up with them in neonatal intensive care, just as the baby's heart stopped.

I can remember being absolutely crushed by the father - because when he saw me, he grabbed me and hugged me, probably quite unconsciously, in his intense emotional reaction to watching the doctor do cardiac massage on the baby.

As I struggled to breathe, locked in his arms, and overpowered by his intense body odour - I was intensely aware of his real grief and horror, and feeling very sad for him - and I was watching the totally uninvolved mother (evidence gathering), and trying gently to involve her, and support her, and watching the wee skun rabbit in the doctor's hand - absolutely struck by the conflict of seeing the wee atomy struggle for life, and cheering her on - as well as my experience was whispering that the poor little thing would be, in many ways, better off dying there and then.....since I was aware that we probably did not have enough evidence to force the welfare to intervene - and I have seen what happens to shaken babies, and thrown babies - and battered and neglected kids - and I had and have so little faith in the sytem that pretends to protect them...

The little one survived that episode, but died a few days later. I really could not be so very sorry. In a strange way, I think, the parents were relieved, too - such moments kind of tell people, I think, however briefly, that they are not able to be good parents, before the denial sets in...

dlowan

Those are incredible stories and experiences (especially for a bunny :-)

My heart goes out to children that are brought into this world under such taxing circumstances.

No one get's to pick their parents.

Or their bosses!!!!!

Can you imagine what would have happened to my boss if I made that info public. He would have been screwed, I was under age.

There is one that came to mind when I read the first post, and then more when I read dlowan's -- how awful.

The first one is that I was struggling to make my little pitiful program into something legitimate (before I struck out on my own), and really wanted to get a specific post-secondary education certification that would ramp up the credibility and be a great recruitment tool. It was usually the job of my boss and her secretarial staff to do this... she didn't want to. I argued and argued and argued for it and she said "fine, you do it." She agreed to pay the fee if I did the work of it.

So I rolled up my sleeves -- it was an absolutely enormous job. I had to create a book-length collection of forms, procedures, curricula, etc., exactly conforming to their very stringent demands. The back-and-forthing had gone on for quite a while and there was only about a week left before the deadline.

But I went to it -- 12-hour days (where I had to do my usual 9 hours+ of work a day as director of the program), horrible painstaking exact work, had to create almost everything from scratch.

With about 4 days left, and maybe halfway through, we got horrible news from my sister-in-law. At 9 months pregnant, she'd had excruciating headaches, was rushed to the ER, and was found to have a large (I think "orange-sized" -- I remember it was fruit) brain tumor that required an operation ASAP. First a c-section for the baby (who was about to term, not a problem for the baby) then a brain operation, with an OK but not fantastic chance for survival.

So. We HAD to fly down there. We decided this Monday night, my flight was slated for about 2:00 PM Tuesday (E.G. went right away, I came later, still before the surgery), and the deadline had been Friday. I went right to the office and worked my ass off. And I did it -- I crossed every T, dotted every I, it was a thing of beauty. Dropped it off with boss, who had to add some cover forms before submitting the whole shebang. Then I sped to the airport and barely BARELY made the plane.

So on no sleep, utterly exhausted from all of that, I was plunged into the drama in Texas (where my sister-in-law lived.) Ended up being the main support person there. Advocated for naming the baby before SIL went into surgery. Advocated for everyone saying whatever they would want to say to her if the worst happened -- in case. (Nobody else seemed to be there doing that kind of thing.) Advocated for SIL in face of distraught and as a defensive mechanism overly-controlling MIL. Lots and lots of that sort of thing for a week, including being primary caretaker for the new baby. (SIL pulled through, still fine as of now. Had one recurrence that was treated with a new procedure that doesn't require surgery called gamma knife.) (And the new baby experience is what pushed me over the edge into OK, we GOTTA have a baby... started trying the next year, after some ducks were in a row.)

Anyway... after all of that, came home. Whew. Did this, did that. Nothing about certification yet -- the next step was a site inspection, and I was surprised that I hadn't heard anything yet. But ya know, bureaucracy. Then, at a staff meeting, I asked about it. My boss said smoothly, "Oh, I didn't submit it, I decided it wasn't appropriate for us, and by the way our new facility in Burbank..."

ARGHHHH!!!!

I glared at her witheringly throughout the meeting (co-workers said I was way scary) and pulled her aside afterwards and said "WHAT?"

She hemmed and hawed (one of those lovely conflict-avoiders) and escaped.

It developed that she (who hadn't known me for long ) just plai didn't want to do it but was tired of my pestering and so told me to do the application because she thought it would be impossible that I'd get it all correct -- it was a PROJECT -- and then she could point to an error and blame me. But she couldn't find any errors, so...

Man I was pissed.

Wow.

I have told this story on a2k before so I'll make it short. I once worked 72 hours in a row, with perhaps 4 hours sleep in there, getting the writing for a land use exhibition done and the displays and photos mounted in a local museum before the Opening. There were some others helping, specifically a then-helper who is now a long time friend. I had some quick and useful advice from a exhibition design consultant, who wisely left. The co-directors of the exhibit were not only useless, one of them was a hundred miles away with the materials for about a third of the show - that part of the exhibit didn't get done, until at least ten days later (I was done with it...)
This was not a small museum..

That lives on in my memory as primo example of the unwisdom of staying with a job you know is going in the wrong direction, just because you (I) am not a quitter. Quit first, I say now, if at all possible.

Amen to that, Osso.

A young, drunk, schizophrenic was in a co-worker's office...

I heard them getting loud through the walls, and only women were in the office. Everybody was piled outside in the hall, discussing the drama--but no one would go in.

I entered and explained to the irate man that I was new and asked if I may observe my co-worker for training. He didn't give a **** what I did, it seems.

I looked at my wide-eyed, deer in the headlights co-worker, who showed me a piece of paper, "Call 911."

I nodded to her, and told the man I was sorry I intruded. I called 911, and then paged my co-worker over the intercom to come to the front desk.

It took four cops to get this guy out of the office.

We had scenes like this all the time.

I'll have to come back and drop a few off from time to time.

The longest day I had started at 5am and ended at 10pm. An early morning out of town appt for an elderly client, and a rape reported at 4:55pm. I had to drive her to a battered women's shelter out of town. Emotionally grueling. She was already suicidal, and had taken a gun to school because of cruel teasing. I couldn't tell the family where or why I was taking her. Difficult.

Ack - such stories! And Soz not up for murder???

Those ares cary days, Lash.

When I was a brand, sparkling, new social worker in corrections, I got left alone to hold the fort one day.

Now - in jobs that can get scary in my field, there is a sort of unwritten rule that professionals always look after clerical staff - so, when our clerical worker gave me the alarm signal on the phone, I came barreling downstairs at 100 miles an hour - never mind that she was twice my age, three times my weight, and had been doing her job for years, while I had been doing it for a few weeks.

In reception was a huge, drunken man - obviously highly emotional (ie angry) and covered from head to toe in tats (normal for the job) and knife scars - (not so very normal).

He was standing over the receptionist, screaming at her, and she was so white that I thought she was going to have a heart attack.

Working only on a "I have to protect her" thought, and being very new and never having handled such a situation alone before, I stupidly invited him into the nearest room - our lunch room - no phone, lots of knives, (but, as it turned out, he had a huge one in his pocket), and I let him get between me and the door.

Also, I hadn't actually whispered to the receptionist to call the police - and she, while very efficient, was not a deep thinker - and she also worked on the "the professional will handle it" mode - so she assumed I could handle it, and went peacefully back to her typing, not especially troubled by what was going on in the next room. This I did not realise at first.

So - my mission as I saw it was to try to calm him down, and keep him peaceful until some help arrived - which I estimated I couldn't do for more than a few minutes, he was so crazy and drunk and clearly very violent. However, the local constabulary were only down the road - and I figured they would be there within five minutes.

So - I set out to find out why he was so agitated, and what he wanted - talking, of course, very softly and calmly - this worked beautifully for ten minutes or so. I can't remember what he actually thought he wanted - but I do remember it was impossible - and he started screaming that another staff member had promised him this (in a phone conversation - he was a new - to us - client).

Ok - so I used calmness AND humour (20 minutes - WHAT is keeping the cops?) - this was good to the 30 minute mark.

Then I decided to begin to try gently to terminate the interview - knowing this was when things might get a little more difficult...

Yep - he got very angry - pulled out his knife (just to play with, of course) - and began talking about how much he hated women - and loved to cut them - clearly enjoying the game of saring me - we were still on a tenuous thread of civility and counsellor/client pretend stuff - so I decided to play along with this, and look unfazed - while measuring the chances I had of getting to the door before he did - knowing that if I failed, we would either be in a hostage thing, or a violent attack thing, or he would cave, recognizing the stupidity of what he was doing. I had no information about him at all - how violent he was (multiple rapist, as it turned out - and violent generally - but "burning out") - so I was reluctant to do anything that could escalate things, and I was still, though doubtfully, expecting the police. And praying that the damned receptionist would at least call me out for an urgent phone call, if she did nothing more sensible!!! (This being standard operating procedure when we were worried about someone)

Anyhoo - two and a half hours later, other folk arrived back - and came in. In the interim I had kept him from escalating - but couldn't get out - and I had chest pain!!!!

He went nutso elsewhere that night - and landed back in prison.

I sooo never let myself knowingly get into such a dumb situation again!! I mean, sometimes they are inevitable - but NOT getting yourself in a room with no phone, and them where you cannot get out.

But - as Lash knows - these are prolly more psychological props than protection - what is helpful is really just your skills in keeping folk calm, and ability to suss if it is getting really dangerous. And - if it is really gonna happen, it will. Where I work has no security of any kind. But - it is like traffic accidents - no point worrying.

Gulp.

Speaking of enormous restraint -- what did you do to that stupid clueless receptionist?! TWO AND A HALF HOURS?? Geez!!