For One To Have Shown Up At My Door

 

A 4-Pronged Mission

• The Benefit
• The Stamps
• The Blood
• The Rug
  

It was Tuesday, August 9th, and like the Manson Family, back in 1969, I decided it was time to get busy and knock a few things off my "to do" list, before the list became overwhelming and put me in a state of paralysis, from knowing that I couldn't get them all done in one day; then not being able to decide which was most important, and so tackling none of them.

First, I called the Department of Labor about a notice that I got back in 2017, which I had decided to end 5 years of procrastinating about; and just call the number listed on the back of the thing, to find out if I was eligible to get the $160 listed under "benefit amount" on the thing.

I had been procrastinating, I believe, because it was better to live under the impression that I might have 160 bucks sitting somewhere, as if in a bank; and that it might come in handy at some future time. I also always thought that the Department of Labor would be staffed by lazy people and everyone put on hold for long periods, while being asked to stay there, since their calls are important, type of thing.

Within about 20 seconds an English speaking female came on, and informed me that I should have already gotten that 160 bucks when I left whatever company that had established a 401K in my behalf. "If the amount is less than $3,000, they give it to you when you leave," she said. 

Fired For Cause

So that must have been part of my "severance pay" when I was fired from Langley-Ford, a company that manufactured equipment that measured parts-per-million of various things; probably municipal water supplies, which kind of ties in to the rest of this post...

The reason I was fired, was that I had hung a warning notice, I guess it was, in my work area, where other employees might have photos of their children or framed awards for "employee of the month," or whatever.

I was 2 weeks into reading Unlimited Power, by Tony Robbins and had been following the principles laid out in that particular book. This had led me to send a box of chocolates to a female employee named Melissa, on Valentine's Day. I'm not sure which principle that was congruent with, but it was probably within the first 4 chapters of Tony's book; maybe as part of "The Morning Question," that he suggests we all ask, upon waking up, which I paraphrase as: "How can I contribute, today?" and might have elaborated into: "How can I bring joy to someone else, today?" or something.

Earlier in that book, I had completed a worksheet which involved dreaming of the optimal life for yourself. Imagining that you had "unlimited power" and could dream anything into reality; what would your life look like? Where would you live, what would you wear, what kind of relationships would you have, etc. etc. The reader was asked to dream "big," as if everything would indeed come true, so spare no extravagance, type of thing.

So, I wrote about being able to stay home in my apartment and work on music from sunup to sundown every day; and to get paid to do so.

The very next day after having placed the box of chocolates, along with a card on Melissa's desk, and then slunk off, I was called into the office of the head honcho.

Melissa, Melissa, Melissa...

He was a bit apologetic and told me that he was bound by rules that he didn't particularly agree with, to inform me that I had violated the company's policy on "sexual harassment," and then read to me from a clause in such that referred to the giving of "unwanted attention," to include "unwanted gifts," to someone else in the work place.

He told me that I wasn't in trouble or anything and seemed to indicate that the definition of "unwanted" was entirely at the discretion of the recipient of anything, and that, since Melissa was a Jehovah's Witness, and that they deemed Valentine's Day to be a pagan and unholy observance, that I had offended her, at a deeply spiritual level with the box of chocolates. "I'm required to notify you of this; that's the only reason we're having this discussion," he added, almost with a roll of his eyes.

He then handed me a neatly typed one page notice that outlined the company's "sexual harassment" policy, then went on to state that, upon February 14th, of that year, I had given one Melissa A_____ the gift of a box of chocolates and that Melissa A_____ had taken offense at this and that, in the future, I would give no more unwanted gifts to Melissa A____ etc.

Since I had recently written and recorded a song that had a chorus of "Melissa" in it, repeated 3 times; and since the warning letter I had gotten had mentioned her in 3 different places, kind of symmetrically; I wound up using a yellow highlighter to highlight the 3 instances of her name; and then hung the thing on the bulletin board area of my little work area. Ostensibly, this was to remind myself that Melissa, Melissa, Melissa was trouble, trouble, trouble. Warning! Danger, Will Robinson! type of thing...

But then, the very next day, the second biggest honcho, named Pete Lincoln, called me into his office and fired me, saying that my hanging the thing in my cubicle was "exactly" the type of unwanted attention that the thing self-referenced.

Well, the Labor Board, or whatever the unemployment benefit division was called in Massachusetts, disagreed with Mr. Lincoln's assertion that I had been fired "for cause," and awarded me unemployment benefits in the amount of half of what I had been averaging working at Langley-Ford; and since the company had been in a production squeeze and we were being forced to work at least 60 hours per week, this had been a pretty nice amount.

And so, about 2 weeks after having completed the worksheet in Tony's book, I was living the dream life I had described by penciling it into the space provided somewhere in chapter 2. I was staying home and working on music all day (the discipline of having worked 60+ hour weeks over the past year or so paying dividends in that regard) and I was getting paid for it.

Before I was done with "Unlimited Power," there would be at least one more relevant incident that I might as well add here.

After a while, the unemployment benefits expired and I was working at a Domino's Pizza place, back in my home town. Langley-Ford had been in the college town of Amherst, Mass., where I had been attending U-Mass, but had taken "a semester off," to work full time (+) in order to bankroll some money, so that, when I returned to school, I could do so in more luxury*

But, I was still slogging my way through "Unlimited Power," having stalled somewhere around Chapter 12, which covered the biochemistry of the brain and advised that, if a reader was currently using alcohol and/or drugs, she should pause her reading, then return to the book after having succeeded in removing such from her life.

Through a blessing out of the "Doctor Christopher's 3 Day Fast and Cleanse and Mucous-Free Diet" course that I had embarked upon, I had finally arrived at an alcohol and pot free life, by the time I was back in Gardner, Mass., which had been my community college town.

So, having been seen with my copy of "Unlimited Power," at the Domino's Pizza, one of my co-workers made the comment of "So, I guess pretty soon you'll be pulling up in a Rolls Royce, huh?" as, I guess, a cynical commentary on "self-help" books in general.

About a week later, I was in downtown Gardner, and along its one main street, not far from the music store was parked a genuine Rolls Royce. Had it not attracted a few gawkers, I might not have even recognized it as such. To me it was "luxurious" the same way the most plushly appointed coffins are in any undertakers show-room; but, there the thing was, with an "RR" ornament on its hood (or it's side, I forget).

Then, soon was approaching an elderly looking man with white hair and a pleasant smile on his face.

I said something to him along the lines of how "I had to laugh" when I saw his car; and then told him about the Tony Robbin's book and what the other employee at Domino's had said.

"I'm a huge admirer of Tony Robbin's," said the affable old guy, then added that he had been to some of his seminars etc.

"I'll tell you what," he said, holding his set of keys out to me. "I get the sense I can trust you; how would you like to pull up in front of the place in a Rolls Royce, and give them something to think about?!"

I was able to park directly in front of Domino's, then hop out and kind of skip into the convenience store adjacent to it, buy some sundry item, then give the gaped mouthed crew a little wave before riding off. The old guy was sitting in front of a cafe by the music store, reading a newspaper, when I returned his keys to him. The parking spot I had left out of was had still been unoccupied.

So, Langley-Ford must have already given me the $160 bucks when they fired me. Well, that's better than thinking I might have it waiting for me somewhere; now I can let go and move on.

Eliminating Bacon

The second order of business was to call the plasma place, which I did, and was informed that the second blood sample I had given had also been under the limit of "6" and had even been down from the 5.7 that had gotten me bounced, to 5.6. 

I had a feeling that might happen. I was feeling pretty depleted when I gave the second sample. I should have waited. I felt the way I usually do after donating before I had even done so. It was like whatever proteins I was eating weren't "sticking to my ribs" around that time. I feel much fuller now, which might have to do with adding bone broth to my diet and eliminating bacon...

Then it was off to the food stamp place, rather than trying to sleep first. I had forgotten to call them, or go online, before the date specified on a letter that had sat in my mailbox until it was almost too late.

Oddly, rather than my account having been closed, as per the dire warning in the letter, it was open, and for then next 2 years, rather than the 1 that is normal. They couldn't understand how it could be open all the way to 2024. The agent I was dealing with soon had all of them looking over her shoulder at her screen in bemusement.

One explanation I can come up with, with regard to that, was that I had called the FEMA people after the hurricane last year, and wound up talking to a young lady, with whom I seemed to strike up a friendship. We wound up laughing and joking about this and that for almost an hour. 

I could hear her poking at a keyboard as she really seemed to be trying hard to find some benefits for me. Alas, she had to sadly inform me that I had already gotten the maximum hurricane relief funds, for sitting in a dark, 99 degree apartment for what amounted to an 11 day power outage, a year ago.

After our friendly conversation, though, I started getting $347 a month on my food stamp card, instead of $247. And now it apparently has been green lighted for 2 years. The power of human engineering cannot be underestimated. I might just be pulling up in a Rolls Royce in a couple weeks...

"A Fan Would Help"

And then, the 4th and last matter of the water seeping into my apartment, I was able to talk to the heating and air guy, who just happened to be taking a break in his truck when I returned from the food stamp place, about. He said that my apartment was "on the list" that he is working on; and the problem of the air conditioner draining onto my floor, rather than down some hose, should be solved soon.

In the meantime, he suggested that I get a fan and direct it at the wet rug.

I went inside, and was thinking "a fan, huh?" when I fell asleep on the couch while some ground beef was heating up on the stove in some flax seed oil. I woke up in a place so full of smoke that the cliche of it being hard to see your hand in front of your face, applied. Enough smoke had gotten out into the hall to set the alarm in the elevator off, which I could hear. The ones in the hallway were silent, though.

Then there was a knock at my door, which turned out to be the maintenance guy, holding the nice fan, seen in the picture above. He positioned it, so as to draw smoke out of my place, and then put another large one at the end of the hallway to push smoke out through the door to the parking lot. 

I suspect that there has been a tacit agreement made between a fire department sick of showing up in full gear every time a resident leaves something on the stove, and a maintenance crew willing to shut the alarms off as soon as they start yapping.

They used to be required by law to show up every time an alarm went off. I think there is now some common sense, and some cooperation, going on between the two parties now. I wasn't berated at all for having fallen asleep and smoked the place up.

And, it had only taken me a few minutes of sleeping on the problem of how to get a fan for one to have showed up at my door...

*that was in 1989, and I have yet to resume my education at UMass.