New term for the day

  Your new term for today is “psoriatic arthritis.”  www.mayoclinic.com/health/psoriatic-arthritis/DS00476

  You MAY have seen an ad for it in Time® magazine.  I had several times, but didn’t really notice how much the arm  in that ad looked like mine (minus the question mark formed by lesions.)  My back & joints hurting has been an on & off annoyance for years.  I dismissed it all as “getting older”  — until this winter.

  In December the pain and stiffness got so bad I couldn’t get out of bed without help.  My whole left side will periodically go numb,  and there’s a constant sensation of electricity down my left leg.

  The VA neurologist says I have a pinched nerve in my left hip.  The MRI ordered in conjunction with this exam confirms that I have arthritis in my lower back;  likewise a dermatologist has confirmed that the lesions are psoriasis.  When I went to school, 2 + 2 = 4 , unless you were doing it algebraically, which means there could be some imaginary number lurking in there somewhere.

   My civilian doctor thinks the pinched nerve has nothing to do with the arthritis, but is a separate yet equally debilitating disorder.   So now I am doing battle with the VA about my arthritis trying to increase my disability rating as well as Workman’s Comp about the nerve.

  All this with an employer with all the compassion of the Marquis de Sade.  When I told them about this, their response was to move me from what was a primarily desk job where I had freedom to get up and periodically relieve the pain in my leg to putting me in training to go back onto the production floor, where I will be connected to a phone and a computer eight hours a day- at least.

  I went to my civilian doctor and asked for written work restrictions.  He asked “Why do you need those?”  Well, according HR at my employer, they can’t even file my Workman’s claim unless they have them, nor are they required to make any allowance for my alleged disorder.    The VA is reluctant to give me any WRITTEN work restrictions until all of my tests are complete.   They gave me some verbal advice, but this isn’t good enough for my employer.

  So I am limited to sitting for no more than 15 minutes or standing for more that 30 .  Also I can’t lift anything heavier that 5 pounds– which lets Bailey, our “Schnoodle “, out because she weighs 11 pounds.   At least through April 1.  That’s when I see the VA doctor and hopefully get something more definite.   And this is strictly enforced, because if  I try to sit for longer, the pain is more than I care to stand.   It’s  more efficient than one of those house arrest ankle bracelets. 

  This week-end, I started using a cane.  It’s not so much to help me walk, but to get up when I’ve been sitting for too long.   Matter of fact, it’s getting to that point about now.  Oh, did I mention that I am allergic to aspirin and other NSAIDs?  More later when I feel better.

It wasn’t my fault!!

The technical aspects of this story will take some explaining for the average non-computer geeks in the audience. However, having had my wife tell me more than once “I know you’re speaking English, because I recognize some of the little words in between, but I have no idea what you just said,” I will try to keep the techno-babble to a minimum. Once I get to the “meat” of this story, you will see WHY this was something that I broke which was very important.  I was working as a Customer Service Technician for a major computer company. The company for which I actually worked was a wholly owned subsidiary of the parent company, so I didn’t actually work FOR the Big Company (hereafter known as “BC”), but my supervisors, support and training were all through the Big Company. If this is not clear, never mind. It actually has little to do with what I broke. Then again.

Now the BC had a contract to repair, replace and maintain Point of Sale computers (aka: computerized cash registers) for a very large retailer we shall refer to as Big Box Mart (hereafter known as “BBM”). Part of this included upgrading the individual store’s network from a token-ring network to an Ethernet network.

A token ring network was quite the feline’s nightwear when it came out. You could run several terminals off of one hub, and have them all happily communicating like geese in flight. However, as with most technology, it had its drawbacks. If one goose, for example, was removed from the flock, the whole flock shut down. This could be a problem for the remainder of the geese, who want to keep going but can’t without the one that needs attention. With Ethernet, the vet could see the one goose while the remainder continued to make money- er, I mean on their flight south.

BBM is a very centrally controlled organization. All decisions, down to thermostat settings, are (or were at this time) approved by BBM Command Central in (ah now-that’d be telling you what organization BBM actually IS! Mom & Dad raised big kids, not stupid ones.) So when BBM Command Central decreed that this switch should be accomplished during the day, and not just during the day but at Noon, that was, as they say, that! This particular store was large enough to have two token-ring hubs. That way we could take half of the store off-line while the other terminals continued to working. This was the theory, anyway.

So here I was at the store, preparing to follow the instructions as prepared and sent out from BBM CC. There was no senior representative present from BC because they were all doing other stores, but it all appeared fairly straightforward. Remember, however, what they say about appearances. I coordinated with the local stores bicycle assembler / store tech support and proceeded to disable the first hub. Suddenly, we had several blue-smocked supervisors running in saying the front registers had all stopped working- at Noon. Apparently this store had the main switches for the individual hubs reversed from other stores, so that by carefully following the instructions from BBM CC and with no senior partner from BC with whom to confer, I effectively disabled this store in the middle of the shopping day. Had one of the senior representatives been present, they were aware of the switch-but they were all doing other stores. This can be a terrifying experience, unless one keeps one’s head. I simply re-enabled the front hub, which meant that the registers- I mean “terminals”- just had to go through their first-opening routine again. The store was down for less than 15 minutes-barely enough time for BBM CC to notice and call to ask why they weren’t receiving data.

I expected repercussions from this, but none were forthcoming. The store continued to trust my expertise, even as I installed the majority of the new terminals. Halfway through the job, BBM received permission to build a newer, even LARGER BBM on land across the alley from this one. Why did they put new equipment into a building they were vacating? Don’t ask me-ask BBM CC.

NaBloPoMo??

National Blog Post Month?  What’s next?? 

I just did this a coupla months ago, and look where it lead me.  Now I’m a member of two separate on-line writing groups and stumbled into the NaNoWriMo maelstrom. 

Likely the only person who will read this is the Green-eyed devil anyway, but that’s OK. 

Here’s a little poem I wrote for the Halloween Contest on Writers.  I took 2nd place (out of three entries, to be sure, but still 2nd.)

The Piper

Be alive and have fun like there’s no tomorrow;
For the piper is cleaning his tools today;
Someone must pay for my deep sorrow.

Today there is light and joy to borrow;
Every bacillus must have it’s day;
Be alive and have fun like there’s no tomorrow.

It’s not fair that my love now inhabits a barrow;
All of my joy lies encased in the clay;
Someone must pay for my deep sorrow.

All worms turn with the flight of time’s arrow;
For now you may yet drink, dance and be gay;
Be alive and have fun like there’s no tomorrow.

Now my love’s garden lies deeply in fallow;
But the piper is coming, and he knows his prey;
Someone must pay for my deep sorrow.

Payment in full is due upon the morrow;
Her silk thread was cut short by your drunken play;
Be alive and have fun like there’s no tomorrow;
Someone must pay for my deep sorrow.

© 2008 William J. Sier  (Just in case anyone gets any silly ideas)

  I wrote a story, too, but I’ll leave that for another day.

Polly Ticks, an she’s a-gonna go BOOM!!!

This was originally posted to Writers, a loose-knit group of people interested in writing as a profession- or just for the glorious joy of putting words together into sentences.  It was in response to the current thread on the presidential elections: 

The recent polemically wrangling rhetoric about political parties pandering to the baser instincts of the easily-fooled electorate, educated or not, among this obviously polarized pack of pundits has attracted my attention.

Normally, I avoid writing or speaking about, discussing or discoursing upon politics. I used to work for a small weekly newspaper here in Kansas which was actually little more than a soap box for the editor. However, he had a loyal following, primarily because of his conservative views. He once asked me “How did you and your wife get together, and how the hell do you STAY together?” I explained that we simply do not discuss politics in our house, a rule I’ve had to enforce on my sons once or twice. Likewise I dislike discussing politics with friends or acquaintances.

I have recently found a bumper sticker that I actually saw fit to put on my car. I wasn’t actually LOOKING for a bumper sticker, and the fact that I found it in what passes for a “head shop” in Kansas has nothing to do with it’s content.

Anyway the bumper sticker reads “Republicans/Democrats: Same Shit Different Piles.”

I claim no party, and no party claims me. I grew up in the day when people blindly voted a “straight ticket.” If you were one, the other was automatically evil. I refuse to be that way.

I can’t see any difference in what’s being said by EITHER side. They both some across to me rather like the adults in a Charlie Brown TV Special- noise, but nothing intelligible. Come to think of it, what can the President actually DO about these issues everyone seems so upset about? “Bush’s War” was impossible without the consent of the Congress. Support for education, research and all of the other touch-points likewise had to go through Congress, then stand the test of judicial scrutiny. Has the Office of the President been reduced to a mere “prole” scape goat?

Feed the dog, stable the pony and remember where responsibility really lays. Where were all of these people who are upset about abuse in Iraq when Saddam was using chemical Weapons of Mass Destruction against the Kurds? Peace and stability in the Middle East? Get real- the region has been in an almost constant state of war since the locked the gates of Eden. The longest period of stability in the Balkans was under the post-WWII constant threat of Soviet Intervention. Giving the world a Coke will NOT make it all better.

Catharsis

I’m certainly glad that I wrote that last post.  It was very healthful, even if I did sound a little whinier than I intended.  I had never really gone through the whole process of “How We Lost Our Home”, and now I’ve written a new school year theme on the subject for my Creative Writing Seminar monitored by Ms. HeatherGreeneyes. 

I feel the need to write further, however, because of a comment I received on another forum to a similar posting.   Someone asked me “Did you expect someone else to help you get it fixed?”

I don’t any anyone to think that I don’t feel ultimately responsible for what happened.  I could have gone to my family for assistance, and did as a stop gap measure a couple of times.   However, when it came down to it, I finally told them “I made this bed, and now I need to lie in it.”  I should have realized that they were merely feeding out the rope from which I would eventually would find myself dangling.  I thought I was smart enough to get through it.  I had no idea. 

What irritates me is they gave me no quarter when I asked for help or tried to explain my circumtances to them.  They didn’t care.  Why should I now care that business pratices they went to school to learn have now failed them?  Why should my tax dollars be used to help them when they weren’t available to me? 

There was a federal grant program advertised here for people who needed assistance with home repairs.  However, we always were just outside of the income range–  we made TOO MUCH money to qualify.  Now these clowns with their gas-guzzling land yachts want schlemiels like ME to bail them out?

Is this a great country or what?

Where do I sign up?

Bush Officials Urge Swift Action on Rescue Powers
NYTimes.com

Bush seeks $700B for debt bailout
CNN

Economists: Financial bailout necessary
MSNBC

“People who go broke in a big way never miss any meals. It is the poor jerk who is shy half a slug who must tighten his belt. ” The Notebooks of Lazarus Long

Where were all of these helpful people two years ago when we needed a bailout?  We are classic “victims”, if that is the correct word, of the Mortgage Mess.

We had a nice house.  It wasn’t showy or very big, but it was ours.  Well, MOSTLY ours.  To quote a song by the late, great Jerry Reed “That me and the finance company own”.  “Owned” is the correct verb. 

Like (m)any other chump(s) in the late 90’s I tried to keep it as nice as possible, while enhancing the resale value.  New siding and windows came first.  It was really first-rate viny siding, and very good double-paned windows.  The contractor even knew a banker looking to make this kind of home improvement 2nd mortgage loan.  The plan was we were to get the work done, and then she was supposed to help us get a new mortgage at a lower rate for the whole amount.  That was the plan.  However:

“The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men,
Gang aft agley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!
(The best laid schemes of Mice and Men
oft go awry,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!)   Robert Burns, To a Mouse (Poem, November, 1785)

Next there were the termites they discovered while replacing the patio door. I’d never seen a termite before, but there was little doubt in my mind what those stupid little white ants were. Hello, exterminator.

After the loan went through and the work was done, I couldn’t find the loan officer. The offices where they had been were empty. This was not a fly-by-night operation. This was a real bank and a banker of some standing in the community.

So anyway there we are with a nice looking house and two mortgages. We should have sold it then, without the loan officer, but this was at a time when the local military base was undergoing a downsizing, with the major unit moving to Europe. Schools built to accommodate the families of soldiers and support personnel were closed, and houses didn’t move in that market. By 1993, we had filed bankruptcy.

After The Floods of 1993, the ground started moving at an accelerated rate. We escaped the water, but the false-stability of the ground was disturbed. First the foundation cracked. If you are unfamiliar with Kansas geology and building practices, imagine if you will houses built on the old flood plain of a river, down stream from the dam constructed to control the flooding but outside of the levees. “Geology” actually implies rock. “Sandy Clay” is a better description. Houses built upon slabs of concrete on land that calling it “unstable” is a gross misnomer. Water line breaks were routine, and to find a house without a cracked foundation and wonky walls was a rarity.

It got so bad we could see light coming in beneath the south wall in the master bedroom. The floors were like a rolling plain beneath the carpeting from all of the cracks. So another mortgage was necessary to get at least the south end of the house lifted. Then part of the ceiling started to collapse because of all the foundation movement.

My wife started talking about gasoline and matches. I started hoping for a tornado- less suspicious. They had discovered a small geologic fault running beneath the dam by this time, and everyone had earthquake insurance added onto their policy. I tried to convince my agent to consider that it all MAY have started with a small earthquake, but he thought I was kidding.

We had to wait until after 2000 to get his done, until the bankruptcy had been completely discharged, but eventually

we got the one end of the house done. I thought it was odd that the mortgage officer that we went through kept adding onto our income until it “fit”, but he assured me that this was a common practice, coming to an “average” income level for our area.

So once again we limped along for several years, in hopes of getting yet another refinancing to fix the other end of the house. I should have looked skyward for inspiration – I might have seen the leaks in the roof. Another refinance, only not for what we had planned. THIS guy told me he knew of an appraiser that “if he didn’t see it, it wasn’t real” so he urged me to smooth out and/or otherwise cover up the undulating floors. That way the house would appraise for more and we could get more of a mortgage. We got a nice chunk of change, but not enough to do the rest of the foundation as well.

Finally we felt we were in a position to finish the foundation work. Someone started building multi-story houses along a nearby street, and property values skyrocketed. We thought with the increase in value we might finally be able to get the foundation done and sell this house. We were in the process of preparing for this when we discovered that the termites had not really left. No the hungry little… devils had come up behind a book shelf we had on the eastern wall, making many of our books hors d’oeuvres before proceeding on to the main structure. We couldn’t even interest anyone in the house as a potential “flip” with this combination of problems. We couldn’t afford it, we couldn’t fix it and we couldn’t even sell it. So we lost it.

One would think I should have been suspicious of all of these clowns and their machinations, and on one level I suppose I was. But I kept thinking eventually we’d sell the house, and everything would work out.

So why am I asking about OUR bailout? What excuse do these financiers have? They hoped it would continue for ever, and everyone would wind up happy, rich and comfortable. The minute things got tough for them, they start crying for the government to help them. Nobody rode to our aid. We received no such compassion & understanding from them. I read about loan officers from these companies living in their cars and losing their condos, some living in their cars, and I say “wah!”

One mortgage company referred us to a debt assistance company. We had submitted all of our information to this outfit and they had sent it to them. So what did it accomplish? When I called to see what we could work out, they hadn’t even opened the packet. The representative had no idea what I was talking about, and just continued to demand payment.

Bailout?  Don’t those building have windows?  Feel free.

The People at the Other End of the Phone

It has taken me a while to get around to writing this post, which is OK, because I understand now more what actually happened. However, I’ll let the incident speak for itself.

I monitor call volume at a telephone customer service center. I won’t mention the name of the company for which I work, nor will I mention the name of the client. I feel this would be a breach of professional etiquette, if not in violation of some paranoid agreement they probably will I insist I signed of my own free will in the wee small hours of a wintry morning after an evenings’ revelry. They shall be hereafter referred to as the Company and the Client.

The Client has very strict ideas about the number of agents that they want “on the phones” at any given time. I have come to believe that they divine these numbers using a Ouija board and fish entrails, but however the get them, that’s what they expect. There are multiple centers, so someone has to keep track of how many agents there are through ALL of them to see how we measure up against the predicted number.

The Company is in the business of running call centers. They have the experience to know how many agents are necessary. Those of us that have worked for the Company for longer than a day or two have seen all manner of calls wander down the wire, and all manner of unforeseen incidents that can affect the number of calls received by any call center on any given day. It’s frequently feast or famine- either we’re up to our butts in alligators or we’re organizing Canasta tournaments.

One weekend the Company, in league with some upper to middle range representatives of the Client, decided to show those with decision making power within the Client that these numbers were unrealistic. So it was decreed that we would have NO MORE agents answering calls at all centers than the number provided by the Client’s bean counters. For example, if the predicted number of agents needed for a particular half-hour period was 150, we could have no more than that number taking calls at ALL centers. This called for co-ordination between centers on an unprecedented scale. It also meant that no matter HOW many calls we had waiting, if we had MORE than 150 people “on the phones”, we had to take them off an have them do training or attend team meetings or clean the center or organize a Canasta tournament.

The problem was that we frequently had as many as 200+ people in the queue waiting to be served, JUST at the call center where I worked. Those calls were left unanswered. Too bad, but a point had to be made. It was very confusing, let me tell you.

However, it left me wondering. What about all of those people at the other end of the phone, who called in expecting “customer service?” WHERE was the customer service in this exercise? How many customers were sacrificed to this little spat?

A Public Service Announcement About Removing Tires

I have noticed a fair number of people finding my little corner of the blogsphere by searching for “getting a tire off of a GEO Metro” or “hammer as tire removal tool” or “brute force VS. explosives in tire removal”.

Before any of you get too involved with an ATF investigation while upsetting your neighbors, let me assure you it IS possible. 

The person at the Midas™ shop to whence I took my ailing Metro said that sometimes the rim on this model will rust around the center, causing it to stick to the suspension:

http://www.iautobodyparts.com/rimswheel_covers-catalog/geo/metro.html

Geo Metro Wheel

He figured my WD-40 soaking and driving it to the shop loosened it sufficiently to facilitate removal. 

Personally, I still think the car was laughing at me.

That smell isn’t just coming from Denmark, Hamlet.

“I think, however more than just Texans are going to be affected by this storm. It is said that 25% of the oil refineries are located off the Texas coast. There are already places that are advertising $5 gas.”

http://www.greeneyewire.com/foo/bracing-for-hurricane-ike/

Having just returned from Illinois, where I found Regular Gasoline going for $4.05 a gallon, I was glad to return to Kansas, where it’s only $3.75. Also, we saw places in Missouri where it as $3.40 a gallon. And yet some places are charging $5.00 a gallon, because of Hurricane Ike.

I remember the evening the First Gulf War started.  I was still working Security at Farrell Library on K-State, which meant I stayed until everyone was out and locked up.  I was listening to the news about the beginning of the air strikes, when “what to my wondering eyes did appear but”,…– no, not a miniature sleigh or any number of reindeer but TWO EMPLOYEES OF A LOCAL GASOLINE EMPORIUM CHANGING THE PRICE OF THE GASOLINE ON THE SIGN!!  There was NO WAY anyone could have effectively known what, if any, affect the opening of hostilities wold have on the price of gas, and this station owner was out raising his prices.  I haven’t bought fuel from him since.

Immediately after 9/11 gas stations raised their prices, and fools lined up to top off their cars at the inflated price.  This before we had any solid PROOF that it was Middle Eastern extremmists whohad carried out the attacks!!  (And lest you ask “Who else would do such a heinous thing?” allow me to point out that the Oklahoma City Bombing as carried out by a white-bread caucasian Gulf War Veteran.)

Oh for heaven’s sake!!  The freakin’ hurricane was probably still miles off shore when they were raising gas prices!! 

I believe this exchange from a 1980 movie called “The Formula” explains much:

 Arthur Clements: [proposing that Titan Oil can raise their gasoline prices] The people will accept the 12 cents now because we can blame it on the Arabs!
Adam Steiffel, Chairman Titan Oil: Ah, Arthur, you’re missing the point: We *are* the Arabs. …We’re not in the oil business; we’re in the oil shortage business! 

Why do SOME places have $5.00 a gallon gasoline and others have it for $3.40??  Is Missouri that much easier to reach than Georgia and South Carolina ?  Aren’t they actually CLOSER to the Gulf and all of those refineries?? California is another place I heard mentioned.  Aren’t they ALSO a major oil producing state? 

What The Market Will Bear.  It’s a basic tenet of business schools, although I’ve never attended a single one.  I did sell produce and Christmas Trees out of our yard in Illinois, and I had a paper route.  I know that if you have what people want (or think they need) they will pay for it. 

Ask any pusher.

I just can’t watch

My wife is in watching the History Channel’s broadcast of footage from 9/11/01.  Whenever I walk through the room, it’s like a train wreck you see happening but can’t do a thing about–  I can’t help but look.  But I can’t just sit there and watch.

I have not forgotten.  I can never forget.  I can remember the expression on the man’s face who told me it was not a small plane that hit one of the towers–  nor was it an accident.  But I don’t even want to go into a minute-by-minute description of what I did when where or with whom.  I haven’t forgotten.  I just don’t feel the need to wallow in that time. 

My Dad was a bombardier in World War II.  He flew missions in B-24’s in North Africa and B-17’s out of England.  Before Dad died late last year, one of my nephews asked him how could he get into the plane every time, knowing what was in store.  “Easy,” Dad said, “I figured I was already dead anyway.” 

I remember as a kid, he said that he never even wanted to fly again.   One day he and I took a ride over to the County Airport.  MUCH to my amazement, we got INTO a small plane owned by a co-worker of his and went for a pleasant flight over the area where I grew up.  He flew several more times after that, even to England for a reunion of his bomber group at their old base. 

Dad was great fun to watch WWII movies with.  There would be fighters diving at bombers and Dad would come out with “That model of Focke-Wolf wasn’t out at that time!” or “That bomber group was in the Pacific then!”  When the movie Memphis Belle came out in 1990, he was persuaded to go see it.  Afterwards, I asked him if the film was accurate.  “Yes,” was his reply, “and I never want to see it again.”

That’s kind of the way I feel about 9/11 video.  Some day, I may feel the need to watch it all again. Today is not that day.