WOMEN'S SUFFERING-AGE & OTHER HI-JINKS

 

In honor of the anniversary of the 19th amendment I thought I would tell an "inspirational", nah, amusing story of one of my female rebellions. As a woman in a non-traditional occupation being "invisible" happened frequently. Sometimes it was a good thing when it gives one time to survey the issues and devise a strategy or when one is underestimated to good advantage. You either get a surprised or annoyed countenance turned your way when you dare to assert your right to intervene. All enjoyable. As I have stated before you need a thick skin and sense of humor in life. I think I took a whole month before I "P.O'd" the Mayor and Human Relations Director. I still blame my Mother for raising us to have a brain, ego and self-worth.

 In a previous position I was the lone female "safety person". As such everyone knew me and had probably talked to me at some point or another. It is always a little embarrassing when an old colleague stops me on the street to say hello and I am clueless as to their identity. But with odds of 1,000 employees to one (me) it is inevitable.  

Anyway there was a men's golf league fully supported by management (as half of them were in it) both financially and also with the privilege of leaving early for play once a week. Now anyone who knows me knows I am not the athletic-type. I am active and did a lot of climbing, jumping, crawling, lifting, carrying, etc. in my safety role, however I am not a lover of or adept at sports. Golf is especially taxing as it takes patience and practice - two things of which I am not an advocate. Frustration is the usual outcome. However I played with my husband and father. I saw it as a bonding exercise for the two of them. That I "sucked" at it was just the added bonus.

Anyway the female contingency at work started a golf league but unfortunately without the kind of support the men enjoyed. No financial incentives and no leaving early. Somebody has to answer the phone right? So they approached old non-athletic me and said "you need to join the men's league, everybody knows you". Well trust me, this was not a tradition the men wanted to change and my innermost thought was "why do I need another mountain to climb in the women's rights cause?" Well one more as it turns out. Fortunately two of my male office mates were willing to strike a blow for equality and  the team of "Larry, Darold and Darelle" was born. I am blessed they did not use my right name for the last place trophy.

Of course I got my rear quarters kicked each and every week. In fact one week I forgot my golf shoes and they insisted I play barefoot. Rather pleasant actually. Two things were really unfair though. 1) they made me hit from the men's tees (which usually meant I might hit it as far as the women's tees; and 2) I could not enjoy the beverage cart because this "she-bear" does not go in the woods like the boys can. One constant however was whoever got paired against me sweat bullets until they were reassured that I was not going to beat them. This motivates however. I once got a birdie (entirely by accident I am sure) and my opponent managed to eagle the hole. Figures.

However, it was amazing how much business was discussed throughout the exercise. As the one not drinking I was able to glean and store away important intelligence for later use. Also I received even more cooperation at work for just being "one of the guys". 

Digress:  Anyone in the business world knows that most deals and important discussions often take place in restaurants, golf courses and men's rooms. Yes. We actually had to chase down one of our more generous management reps in the bathroom after the union side had cornered him there during a contract negotiation. Imagine their surprise. However, the trick is to not be hung up on business, BS, talk biz, BS. It works.

Anyway after that humiliating (for me) first year, the guys opened the doors and golf became a mixed company activity. Eventually it became a separate but equal proposition. All the women ever wanted.

Another funny story from that time. I discovered the best humor or joke is the one you do not even know you are committing? performing? When I agreed to join the golf league my OH (other half) had only one suggestion, which is amazing because all the guys wanted to do on league was to give me buckets of advice on my game. Anyway he bought me pink golf balls saying no one would ever mistake which was my ball. Cute, as if the one five yards in front of me was probably not my drive. 

 Our general manager, a bachelor at the time, was quite a prolific serial dater. Working through the secretarial pool was more than just a saying. Anyway he noticed my pink balls and asked if he could have one for his girlfriend. Without hesitation, and without intention I might add,  I said "Sure how many do you want?"  It was only after I heard the guffaws from the other men and his red face did I realize what I had inferred.  OOPS. One of my better gaffes.....

BUMPER PONG

 

Had a little fun adventure the other day. The water route to and from the lake includes a low bridge that I am very dramatic about ducking when we pass under. But to be fair there is probably only about 6 inches of clearance for the captain who also ducks while maneuvering the tight channel. However with my claustrophobic nature I am practically prone, eyes shut upon entering the narrow passage. Grandson Joe finds this hilarious and sits up in his seat just to show me how he can bravely clear the obstacle without incident.  The day is coming my boy when you will be too tall like the rest of us. 

Lately we have been entertaining one couple at a time on a lake tour. Takes about an hour and the Captain has a regular spiel pointing out the sights along the way. My role is strictly ancillary as well as being taxed with taking the mandatory souvenir photo for the guest's future enjoyment.

 One can only raise the canopy or Bimini they call it, after passing under the bridge. There are signs on either side of the bridge cautioning "Is Your Top Down?" which of course prompts the hanging of bra tops at times along the edge. The "Top" of course refers to the Bimini. I shudder to think of the fate and the horror of the unwary who do not realize the Bimini is always taller than the bridge. I explain all this so the next part makes sense.

Once free of the of the bridge we coast along slowly so we can put "Our Top Up". We also pull the bumpers onboard that are helpful if one gets too close to the walls while coming under the bridge. Upon our return trip, the process is reversed. I was efficiently tossing the bumpers out over the side when one just kept going. Oops. Now they are not that expensive, but expensive enough and a floating hazard to other boaters.

Our captain having seen the maneuver performed by another, confidently swung around and told me he would bring the errant bumper amid ship (between the pontoons). Leaning way out I of course missed it on the first run arrrggghh.  I listened for the sound of the hard rubber bumper being ground up in the motor, but apparently not an issue. So we made a second run. "Lie down on your stomach and reach out" he called.  So half on the boat, half in the water I made a wild grab for the rope. "GOT IT". Success is followed by wondering how one gets up gracefully, in front of guests, looking cool and confident. 

As far as I know they enjoyed and applauded no doubt believing it was part of the show and no lives were lost. 

These are actually two different couples, but the driver's the same. LOL.

THE AGE OF PANDEMIC: CHAPTER 23 Where's Waldo

 Although much of the shortages have eased, each market run is still an adventure of "what's missing now"? Although the drama earlier was all about the modern equivalent of the old Sears catalog (easy on the swipe), we were able to "cover" our ends with an adequate supply. Taking what was available meant that nasty one-ply variety creating the need to use extra squares in achieving adequate clean-up.

My favorite "Puffs" (non-lotion) tissues were nowhere to be found and so made do with store and unknown brands (when any was available) created no doubt from recycled Sears catalogs (hopefully unused). Eggs and milk were frequently available, so no real deprivation of my raison bran fetish. (Appears to be a pattern here-mostly related to efficient elimination). 

As stocks were replenished and some of the hoarders have gone back to work, most items have reappeared. However there have been a few issues. Why would "Mary Kitchen Corned Beef Hash" be unavailable for weeks? At $2.79 a can I would think straight ground beef and potatoes would be cheaper. Also I can never find the small (16 oz) cans of original recipe "Bush Beans". That is exactly the size that two people using it for chip dip can manage; smaller can does not do it and larger cans languish forgotten and unloved in the 'frig. Crunchy peanut butter. What is it with crunchy peanut butter? Lots of creamy, but I need that peanutty crunch. And onion salt! Why would onion salt from all distributors go MIA? Lots of oregano, garlic...parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme, but no onion salt? Ham slices are another precious commodity. I confess I am at the point of buying a whole ham, slicing it and vacuum sealing it. One week tomato juice; the next Italian dressing; the third chicken broth or cream of mushroom soup.

Different items have gone missing at different times rendering my grocery list more of a wish than a promise that is totally recyclable for the next shopping trip as I only cross off what I actually found. My favorite "Jello" sugar free creme brulee and "Heinz Genuine Dills" are only available at one store I visit infrequently so alas, I have learned to hoard a bit myself when the opportunity arises.

What is especially interesting is the herd mentality of the missing items. The entire shelf will be wiped out/empty. Which makes me wonder if people grab items indiscriminately when they see the supply running low. Like desperately scraping the last little pieces of gold fleck out of the bottom of the pan. "We don't actually eat this but by golly it's almost gone!"

On the plus side there is no doubt plenty of Foie Gras, Pule cheese (made from donkey milk) and wine. Lots of wine. One just has to make do with what one has I suppose.

VIVE LA DIFFERNCE

Though we are loathe to admit, we all have a certain amount of bias in our human make-up. Either from experience or upbringing, the prejudices against color, religion, national origin or gender exist in varying degrees. I think we may finally be realizing there is an inherent advantage in being a white male. Probably why they are so often the butt of humorous sit-com situations as a subtle and devious way of others trying to get the upper hand. 

Also I believe (or hope) that we are starting to realize our prejudices and are doing something about it. Though I am not the author it is true that "there is never a more dangerous people than those who have nothing to lose". Sitting back mildly and being discriminated against, maimed and killed on a daily basis has finally reached a boiling point and black and brown men and women are taking things into their own hands. I hope we are listening.

I also firmly believe children are born innocent and are influenced as they go through life possibly out of the fear that some people have for those different from themselves. Any one who still thinks the Civil War was about State's rights needs to leave the table now. It was about maintaining a lifestyle, complete with fringe benefits, through the repugnant idea that it was alright to enslave other human beings that were not considered human. What is especially galling and gut wrenching is that there are many Americans who still believe the lie today, civil rights be damned. 

In examining my own experiences, and with the benefit of hindsight, my earliest recollection is playing with a little girl who lived across the field behind a large roadside sign near my Grandmother's house. I went to her house once and, though the memory is indistinct, I remember I thought it was odd that they had dirt floors. When I push my memory further I seem to see their skin color was not like mine although it made no impression at the time. Then one day they were gone. All I remember is I missed my friend. Though my Grandmother had a derogatory term for people of color I saw nothing but a little girl who liked to play games and throw a ball around. 

I also remembered a boy when I was in grammar school who was my friend and again the odd reactions he had around certain people, including another young friend of mine. He was Jewish. All it meant to me was he went to a different church. Even worse I remember a family that lived on the corner who had the most beautiful lawn. The father worked on it constantly and it was as soft and plush as a putting green. One night someone burned a symbol on his lawn ruining it. This was in the 50's and I could not understand why someone would do that. My parents did not excuse the behavior and said it was wrong. The family was from Hawaii so I can only imagine they were Asian. Again that they looked different from my family made no impression on me. But I will never forget how shocking the lawn looked after the vandalism and could not understand why.

The divider and chief's remarks this week about "suburban housewives (who are they?) won't have to be afraid as he won't let low income people (read black) in their neighborhood due to fair housing regulations" got me thinking. (Most of us are working and pack pistols so not sure if he is using a time machine). 

It took until college to understand the long-standing prejudice against non-white people moving into the suburbs. A classmate related how his father could not get a loan at a reasonable cost and realtors would literally steer him to "certain neighborhoods".  Because, of course, being approved for a loan and buying a house allows one to achieve equity which can then be parlayed into a better life. A better neighborhood means a better tax-based school district which prepares the student for higher education.  So starting behind the proverbial "eight ball" due to long-standing discriminatory policies, virtually guarantees the "non-desirable" would never achieve anything and thus could safely be accused of acting lazy and unmotivated . Funny how all that works.

As a child of Roy and Shirley it never occurred to me I would be treated differently because I was of the female species. We were exposed to everything and told we could accomplish anything. I learned.

After marriage I was working and a member of a credit union affiliated with my company. My husband and I signed for a car loan. The car was in my name, my paycheck was directly deposited and the payment came out of my deposit. After paying off the car I went back for another loan. After the paperwork was completed I was asked to "bring my husband in to sign on the loan"! Say what?  To their surprise and I hope education I immediately cancelled my account and went my merry way. 

Working in a non-traditional field of employee safety and usually the only woman, led to many interesting encounters and situations. Finding bathrooms and privacy were usually a challenge. Always carry extra tissues & hand sanitizer, learn to prop your foot against the door and never ladies, and I mean never, use the porta-potty on a construction site. I got quite skillful at locating places to change from office garb to work garb enroute to an emergency. The boots were a challenge however.

For example, upon receiving word of an electrocution at a worksite about a mile from the office and not knowing what I would find, I ditched the quick change act and hit the area in a dress coat and 3-inch heels. Signaling a worker to be ready I launched myself over the short barrier into his arms and slogged through the mud, blood and beer to the injured worker. They were just applying the paddles to bring him back when I got there. 

Digress: It is not nice and neat like it is on television. When defibrillators are applied to a person the view and end result are both terrifying and gross. 

After two rounds they were able to revive the man and bring him to the hospital. He survived but was never able to do electrical work again. Humorous side note: Arriving at the hospital I looked ok on top but 3 inches of mud were clinging to my shoes. In my best stern voice I said "I'm here representing the employer". Okie dokie. 

One has to be strong, confident and unyielding when following up at the hospital after an accident. Once on a inspection with the Union Safety Director I got a call that a guy was down at the plant and they smelled booze on him (this was 8 am!) I said  "transport him, don't say anything and I'll  meet you there." After arriving at the emergency room, they naturally addressed the bearded, older union skate to talk about the patient. I stepped up and said "you will talk to me, I'm the employer". LOL.  The emergency doctor later told me the patient had a 3.0 breath alcohol level. He didn't know how he was conscious, much less working. Well technically I guess he wasn't.

Credibility is always an expected and hard-fought battle for anyone , but sometimes it was more than just disdain for the newbie. My first visit to the Fire Department as the new Safety Director led to the following conversation with the Deputy Chief. He: "You'll never make it with these guys". Me: "Ok, tell me more". He: "Number 1, you're not a firefighter". True enough, but then he had to go on. "Also, you're a woman". Poker face intact I realized I would not get far with this dude, but eventually won the respect of the rank and file by getting them equipment and training that they wanted and needed.  Go with your strengths I say. 

PASSING THOUGHTS

 My Aunt passed away recently at almost 98 and my cousin has organized a ZOOM call with the family to reminisce and celebrate her life. Looking through the pictures and stories he shared in a separate folder brought a flood of memories and regret. Good memories of Aunt Kathleen in my youth and regret that the previous generation is slowly though lately, more quickly, moving on. We are the matriarchs and patriarchs now and it is a tremendous responsibility and privilege, though our hard-fought wisdom may not be considered of particular value to the younger generations.

They can "google" whatever they think they need to know. Technology can deliver the facts but not the passion; the "black and white" but not the color; the pictures but not the experience; the conclusions but not always the wisdom to know what is truth and what is fantasy. Trust me, I did not always want my elder's counsel but there were definitely times when I needed to ask for their opinion before I made my decision.

I usually read my longer school papers to my Mother seeking her input on logic, clarity and syntax. I recall one fictional story I created on a surprise nuclear attack in California where I had the main character in utter panic and consternation say he "ejaculated" his terse instructions to staff while running his hand through his disheveled blonde hair. Mom just mildly asked me if I thought that word was the one I wanted to use. In my innocence I defended the word choice as I wanted to convey the urgency of the situation. That was all. Though I imagine she and the teacher experienced great hilarity when retelling the story later.

I also had Mom on the phone when my daughter took her first "solo" trip upon obtaining her license. She stayed on the phone with me until Kristen arrived home safely which probably helped me accept that she could handle the new responsibility. Of course, Mother loved and fiercely defended her children and grandchildren so I did seek her advice on baby/child issues as well.....sometimes. 

Dad tended to give his opinion, loudly, whether solicited or not. Though when pinned down he often said "better ask your Mother". Shirley was not one to be taken lightly or ignored.  I did consult him about a major job change seeking his thoughts on money vs. job satisfaction. He made his points which solidified my thoughts and definitely helped me make my decision, though probably not the one he thought.

Speaking of seeking input, in my MIOSHA career I had the unique opportunity to create a safety curriculum called the MIOSHA Training Institute which also turned out to be one of the hardest projects I have ever undertaken. Long a proponent of standardizing training (30 consultants, 30 ways to teach the same topic), I was eager to take the reins. But of course none of us had ever built a school before. This was a case of taking 30+ independent professionals and higher-ups, yoking them to the wagon and convincing them to pull in the same direction. Fortunately I am stubborn and the devil with the details.

 In government work my mantra was always "what does the citizen want and how can we deliver value?" A view not always in the forefront. Not only did I have to be persistent in meeting the deadlines, I had to LISTEN to other's opinions ad nauseum and be sure that every voice was heard and acknowledged. Then I usually did what needed to be done, sometimes having to drown out the kicking and screaming. Especially when it was mandated that all instructors go through course development classes and create curriculum manuals, that anyone, could pick up and teach the course. Amazingly difficult to get buy-in on the concept.

So what is all this hard-earned wisdom and experience worth to those who follow? What will be said about me after I am gone? Maybe I should write a book and at least enjoy my own repartee. Oh right, I think I am. 

FUN AND GAMES at WORK

This week, at the "Lake Estate" there was quite a bit of discussion on jobs we have held - good, bad and ugly. Especially entertaining was the description of death-defying tasks that definitely required more safety procedures and PPE but so be it. I was booed several times for my incredulity at the lack of caution and the fact that some jobs people are expected to perform go above and beyond.  People are cheaper until you maim or kill someone I fear.  One description of working in a tunnel transporting limestone to freighters via conveyor systems was especially harrowing. It was nicknamed the Hurst tunnel (should have been Hearse) and had been known to decapitate the unwary.

If we survive, we appreciate the real-life training we receive when we are able to apply it later in life. If we really pay attention we learn respect for the people that have to do jobs like that. Something I appreciated when I worked summers in the local Oven Fresh factory. I got to leave in September and go back to college. This was their whole life, no end in sight, and I never forgot that lesson.

Another learning situation occurred as I worked from the time I was 13 until college helping my Mother run a paper route for an early morning newspaper. We went from individual house delivery to filling street racks and servicing dealers. This was 365 nights a year and from about 1 am to 5 am. Couple of hours of sleep and then off to school. I was always on the honor roll but who knows what I could have achieved with more sleep? To be honest I really was not one to study for hours anyway. Used to write term papers the night before they were due-lol. 

 My older siblings helped when they could or were still at home, but I had the curse of being 100 pounds soaking wet and could leap in and out of the station wagon like the Flash at breakneck speeds. So I usually won the duty. As this was downtown Grand Rapids, the lightening speed was partly fear I suppose. We had our share of suspicious characters eyeball us, and until the police got to know our car, plenty of suspicious law enforcement scrutiny. One memorable night I had the honor of being flashed by a gentleman in the lobby of the YMCA in all his manly glory. I popped through the door, let them know "pervert on the loose" and popped back out to the car. No doubt he was disappointed at my non-response. I missed out on many night time activities with friends, and I was not the sweetest disposition at 1 in the morning, but I do not resent or regret helping out when the family needed it. 

One lasting benefit (question mark) of my midnight adventures was I discovered how extremely stubborn I could be, sometimes to my detriment. When the large, burly man on the delivery truck tossed down the bundles of heavy newspapers I never complained, just took the drop and loaded the car. My Mother sighed and said "if you would just use a little honey instead of vinegar he would probably load the car for you".  Nuh uh. I liked the challenge.  However, I do think he was loading more than newspapers for the cute blonde that also had a route and waited to "load" after the rest of us were done. 

Collections were a dreaded part of the job. The vendors and dealers liked to complain about the bill, or didn't have the money right now, or could I run to the bank and cash a check for them. Being young and small and shy (I know shocker) I would just stand there and look at them until they finally and grudgingly came up with the money. In my head I just believed they owed the money and I had no idea how to counteract their complaints anyway. I also got 1% of what got collected so a bit of an incentive. Well what I found out was standing there quietly works wonders on the "savage beast".

I utilized that strategy throughout my career whenever I had to deliver bad news. Such as refusing a 3rd raise in six months to a highly placed executive, being screamed at by a police chief as he did not like action taken by my department, having my life threatened by a disgruntled employee. Amazing if you just stand there, do not back up, and wait, they have no other course of action. There are times when one can only get into a unnecessary and protracted situation if you argue or placate when you know you are right. Just wait it out, but no rolling of eyes or sneering allowed. 

 

DEMON SPAWNS

Well that's a relief to know that invisible demons and witches impregnating women in their dreams are the cause of so many surprising pregnancies. Much easier to explain to Dad and Mom why a mysterious bump has manifested itself overnight. Truthfully with so many succubus and incubus roaming around at night throughout the ages it's amazing anyone gets any rest. In the 1600's those doggone mischief makers were identified, railroaded and dispatched with reckless abandon no doubt aided by the ergot fungus.  Remember this was also an anti-science crowd. Although I always questioned why a true witch would let her or himself be "murdered" if they possessed the accusatory powers. "Smite me thee saith? How would thee enjoy a hot cauldron up thy nether regions" should have been the obvious response.

On the flip side the self-same demons are also the cause of infertility, endometriosis, cysts; probably acne, boils and hemorrhoids. Which begs the question. Do demons obtain specialties in demon school - some for pregnancy, some for infertility, etc. Though there are some human doctors who have been caught providing their own "demon sperm" at fertility clinics. Perhaps they are also demons. And don't get me started on the alien DNA (do they mean from Canada?) that causes people to reject religion. Always someone or something to blame; forget about free will.

These are some of the theories espoused by the Reverend/Doctor Stella Immanuel, a graduate of the University of Calabar in Nigeria (go Malabites). I support people's right to practice their religion. Good gosh there are actually people who dance with snakes. At least until all the jerking around and yelling by the "reverend" irritate the snake enough to end the manipulation.  But again, their choice. 

Where I start to have a problem is folks with Rev/Dr. Immanuel's gall (and credentials) showing up at the Supreme Court to condemn all the rest of medical science and thrust their particular brand of lunacy as the end-all cure for the pandemic. Again their choice. But when the science-phobic President of the United States picks up on the aforementioned lunacy and supports her "theories" is when things become really ugly. There are actually people who believe everything that falls from his pouty lips. I believe the real reason is his monetary stake in the lab that produces hydroxychloroquine. Also a case of "nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I'm gonna eat some worms" thinking.

Granted there are probably not that many folks who follow Dr. Immanuel's "alternative" religion but by golly, the Trump master has their vote.  The upside is if his supporters continue to follow his crackpot ideas and anti-intelligence heroes the less of them we will have to contend with when this whole nightmare is over.  Talk about your demon chasing dreams.