WHAT I DID IN 2004.
At a job fair in the Student Union Building, I gave a representative from Micron a resume.
They called and left a message on my answering machine. It seemed that they wanted to
interview me the next day, Friday, the start of spring break. I had plans to bail out of town.
Returning the called left me with only the option of a message on their voice mail. You
have to just love phone tag. In the message I stated that I would be back in a week and
would then be glad to be interviewed.
Sitting back and looking at their job fair handouts, I noticed that they work their people in
12 hour shifts, with an unpaid half-hour lunch. That's 12.5 hours in my union book. Then I
noticed some strange clause about midnight shift differential only being paid if 50% or more
of your crews complement worked a midnight shift. If someone is on vacation, someone calls
in sick, and people are on their regular days off, what happens if I'm the only one left from
my crew on midnights? NO shift differential? Well, I never had the opportunity to ask.
The phone rings; it's human resources asking if I would meet them at the school,
at 4 O'clock. Apparently I didn't communicate sufficiently in my voice mail message that I
was leaving town. I don't think it was me since having pulled an A in my communication class.
It must have been my NEW YORK accent that confused them. YO! I'm F---ing leav'n
town tomorrow, call me back treee days after next Friday, and I'll be glad to twalk to you.
I repeated myself; she replied "she would tell the interviewer". I guess they must have been
upset that I shunned them, and didn't drop my pants begging to work 12.5 hours for slave
wages on a midnight shift. I've never heard from them again.
This reminded me of when I was 18 and working at Food Town on Woodfield Road. My folks
planned a family vacation and told me to tell the boss that I needed two weeks off. The boss
told me no. When I told my father, he said that's OK, you just work up until the day we leave.
When you don't show up they might figure it out, but then who cares. When I returned home
my friend told me that the boss was pissed off and told him to tell me that I was black balled
from working in all Food Town chain stores. I wonder if Micron got a hold of that list. My friend
laughed at him and told him that in six months he'll be a certified aircraft mechanic. Do you
really think that he cares. The boss didn't like that either. To hell with him and anybody
who wants to belittle your skills so they can pay you slave wages.
I scored a job with an airline that had a
summer contract out of Boise. I was
the Senior VP of Boise Aircraft Line
Maintenance. I could have claimed the title
of President of Boise Line Maintenance, but
then I wouldn't be able to defer to
a higher authority. "Well, I'll have to ask
the president that question. That's not with
in my authority". When you come back
with an answer they don't like, the president
looks like the prick not you.
It works all the time.
I was able to fly with the aircraft as a flight mechanic, which can be tiring if it breaks down
after a long day of sitting in coach. You're the man then. The rest of the crew goes to the hotel
to sleep while you're killing yourself to fix the problem before the next departure. Then you have
to sit back in coach without going to the hotel for rest. Forget about food; you're trapped at
the airport. I gotta eat every five hours or I get mean. This was witnessed by the flight
crew after a long day and arriving in Atlanta at 1 am during hurricane relief efforts.
They're lucky I didn't have a knife on the plane, because I would have cut off a piece
of ass and eaten it. Of course off the tenderest young flight attendant. Can you picture the
sexual harassment of my squeezing, looking for the tenderest piece.
Just before I flew on the hurricane relief trips.
I did a rear main seal, clutch, rebuilt a tranny,
and transfer case on a 1970 Cheyenne.
The job went to hell in a hand basket.
As of Nov. 1st the guy still owes me a grand.
There is a lesson in there somewhere.
Actually many life lessons.
Hunting season came and went. I thought after
seven days of camping out I'd be successful.
True to my life's path I was not. My last day
of BULL ELK hunting I sat on a ridge that over
looked four peaks with good grazing pastures.
Figuring if anything was going to feed it would
be here. At about 5 PM I notice movement
about 300 yd. straight ahead of me. I raised
my rifle; the scope revealed it was a cow.
No not a cow ELK. A MOOO cow. Within five
minutes the whole peak was covered
with bellowing heifers. Well, I did take some nice
pictures. I asked the wise owl for some wisdom.
Then watched him swoop down on his prey.
He missed! So, he doesn't know either.