When you have worked for over forty years, you see a few things. I know I have. This uncomfortable memory reared its ugly head the other morning so I decided to jot it down and share the absurdity of it with you.
1988 was an important year for me. My wife and I left New England for Chicago, a work-related move that brought us back home closer to family and friends. Carrie was still in retail and found work on Michigan Avenue, Water Tower, Lord & Taylor to be exact. I landed in the Ameritech Corporation, soon to become AT&T in a few years.
It was a 12 month consulting assignment where I developed an early cell-phone billing system. It was efficient, effective, and well-received by my Ameritech colleagues. In a few short years, it would merge into an existing legacy billing system where it would be swallowed up in decades of software patches and botched system upgrades. But for for now, it was a darn good billing system.
Twelve months came and went. I was considering something quite new for me, an employee position at the company. Until now, all my work consisted of consulting contracts, but I was tempted to cross over into the unknown world of employee-ism. I wasn’t sure how I would adapt. Turns out the first episode was a good indicator.
My boss’s manager suggested the move to me. They were very happy with my work. After a few days of self-reflection, I decided to take the leap. First step, paperwork and a physical. Yes, I said physical. Why? Don’t ask me. Drug testing was, and is, still quite mandatory at most companies, so I wasn’t surprised about that, but a full-body physical? Well, that was just plain weird. One of my fellow consultants made the employee jump at the same time and was scheduled first for the physical. Now here is where things get a little strange.
You see, I worked in a 20 story office building in the Loop right off of the L-train. My desk rested in the middle of the ninth floor. The cafeteria topped off the building at 20 and the 12th floor was reserved for an entire doctor’s facility, complete with testing rooms, patient rooms and a huge waiting room. Why? I still don’t know.
My buddy, Dan, arrived for his physical on 12 making the classic patient-error of using the restroom before ascending to his appointment on the company elevator. The urine test was a requirement for the physical. His empty bladder was a problem. The solution: Sit in the waiting room, dressed in a patient gown, with open back side, holding a two liter bottle of water and make light conversation with fellow employees. When I heard this horrific story, I decided right there and then that I was going in fully loaded. No embarrassing waiting room escapade for me.
Three days later and a full morning’s supply of water consumed, I arrived at the 12th floor preparing to take and pass my physical exam. In my mind, the first step was to unload for the urine test. It didn’t work out that way.
I was led to a room where I changed into my skimpy patient garment. Thoughts of my fellow workers above and below me on other floors working a normal business day plagued me while I looked at my naked legs in the sterile unflattering hospital light. A nurse arrived. I followed her. We passed by the restrooms and into a large open facility where my vision and hearing was tested. This was years before I lost my hearing to a freak accident in Kenosha, Wisconsin. But that’s another story.
I concentrated on eye tests and hearing tests, a faraway beep in my left ear, while my brain continuedly acknowledged the red-alarm warning that my bladder had just tipped the 96% capacity limit with no intentions on stopping.
“Let’s get your height and weight measured.” I heard my nurse say.
“How about the urine test next?”
“Sure, but we want to draw some blood first.” She smiled. I crossed my legs.
The blood was drawn. I looked fondly over at the restrooms. She marched me off to a treadmill in the corner.
“We need to capture some numbers. The endurance test is next. I will guide you through the various stages.” I cursed her under my breath. Ironically, the running did temporarily subside the intense bursting threats from the overly enlarged bladder now at 99% capacity. But that was short lived. She walked me over to a desk with pen and paper. A survey.
“How about we checkbox the urine test first, you know, just get it done? The restroom is right here.” I tried to sound calm.
“Oh, we are getting to that. But first we need you to fill out this short survey.” In all my years on this planet I have never met a short survey and I doubt I ever will. I clipped through the survey and threw the pen onto the table. I stood and approached the nurse who had taken a phone call at her desk. She raised a single finger in my direction indicating that I should hold a moment, like the gentleman that I am. My mind had left to another place, arid landscapes with sand dunes and camels, but it was no use, I soon returned to fact that there was an immense amount of water trapped inside of my body and there was only one way to resolve the dilemma. I needed some privacy and a cup. NOW!
I interrupted her and she began to raise the finger when she noted that I was, in fact, holding the midsection of my body in the last futile attempts to not embarrass myself on a whole new scale at my workplace. And then she did the most remarkable thing a stranger has ever done for me. She reached down, lifted and handed me a small paper cup.
I hustled over to the restroom and manhandled my way inside. The toilet was ready for me with the seat up. I moved the cup into position. I released. With the force of several horses, I plunged the cup right into the toilet bowl. What?!
I needed another cup.
I needed to stop the procedure and get another cup.
The measure of a true man can be marked in many ways. That day it was me finding the extraordinary strength to suspend the urine test operation and reappear at the nurse’s station for a second cup. I grabbed a third one for good measure.
Back in the restroom I had finally achieved the right amount of test fluid and relieved myself in a way that almost brought tears of joy.
Fifteen minutes later I was at my desk working. I received the news at the end of the day that I had passed all of my physical tests and now eligible to become a new employee of the company. I would only last four months, but that was another story.
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Never a dull moment with you and your jobs. You could write a book on all your experiences. Keep your stories coming.
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