What Do You Mean, "Where Have You Been?"

What? You act like it's been almost a year since I posted. Get off my back!

The following is a tale I told to some colleagues in the Spring of last year, to explain why I missed a conference call. To protect my job I have eliminated any overt mention of my company's name (and yes, I agree, it is silly/childish that I have to do that). This is a departure from how/what I usually blog, but I'm trying something new. Let me know what you think by commenting or sending me a message on Twitter (@attackresist). Enjoy!



It started out like any other lunch break. I walked to the car, fired up the engine, and headed towards my favorite eatery. Things took a twist from there though. As I travelled down the highway I got stuck behind a truck carrying several hundred chickens (being in Southern Indiana, this is not entirely unheard of). Besides the abysmal smell that normally accompanies 1,030 pounds of live poultry, things were okay. One of my favorite songs was playing on the radio, the sun was shining, and I had successfully raised the windows before I was smothered in down. However, the truck soon hit a fairly large pothole and the resulting shock sent several of the small cages flying in my direction. Now, as you might imagine, being in the driver’s seat of a 2009 Kia Rio travelling at roughly 60 miles per hour while a wood and metal chicken cage is flying at your windshield carrying a very frightened chicken is not a very tenable position. I did what other people in a similar situation might do: I slammed on the brakes while trying to swerve at the same time.


Also, I peed a little. 


If you have ever seen the movie Blues Brothers you’ll remember that travelling at high speeds, slamming on the brakes, and turning the steering wheel violently will usually result in your car suddenly being pointed in the opposite direction. This is what happened to me, and when my eyes caught up with my body I realized there was a fully loaded REDACTED trailer barreling down upon me. 


I had spent many years in Operations before coming to my current position within the Distribution Network Support Team and this requires a much more physical type of work. When I worked on Weekend Shift I would be on my feet, lifting boxes, helping Team Members, and trying to control the chaos for upwards of 15 hours a day. When I came home exhausted my wife would tell me that I was working myself to death and, if I wasn’t careful, REDACTED was going to be the death of me. Now, it seemed, she was finally going to be right. This thought prompted me to scream very, very loudly and slam on the accelerator while turning the steering wheel violently. 


Also, I peed a little. 


Had I turned the wheel to the right I would have continued on pavement and probably would have been okay, save the fact that I needed a fresh pair of pants. However, I turned the wheel to the left and found myself travelling through a freshly plowed field straight towards a very confused farmer (being in Southern Indiana, this is not entirely unheard of). I slammed on the brakes again and my world view immediately changed by about 90 degrees. 


See, the farmer had plowed a bit too early in the season and the heavy rains we had experienced the previous few days had turned large areas of his field into a muddy bog. When I slammed on the brakes my car frame lifted up in the rear, naturally, and the sudden increase in pressure caused the mud I was barely driving on to collapse completely and inhale my car. So there I was, strapped into the driver’s seat of my car looking out of the windshield and seeing nothing but dirt, wondering what on Earth had just happened to me when the inevitable conclusion to this story occurred. The airbag deployed. Now I was hungry, scared, confused, and  blinded by tears and blood (resulting from the broken nose and slight concussion I had just received). 


Also, I peed a little. 


The farmer was kind enough to haul my car out of the mud with his tractor, and after hosing my mud caked vehicle (and myself) down and going to the local Wal-Mart for a fresh pair of pants I returned to work.


And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I missed the conference call yesterday.