(Untitled):

Regular readers may have noticed that I haven't posted in a week. That's unusual for me; but my computer crashed and I've just lost my job; so I've been on intermission for this past week or so.


Actually I've been the proverbial dangling man for well over a month. Since early April, when my boss called me into the office to discuss certain "issues" he had with my work product. Course I was surprised to hear of any problems since all I'd ever done was submit my reports on time; without fail or complaints; much to the appreciation of our clients.

But my boss insisted we had to talk.


The first thing I noticed when I visited the office that breezy afternoon more than a month ago was that there was only one girl behind the reception desk. Bleach-blonde Marilyn. We'd always had two gals in the past; but now it was only Marilyn. We exchanged a smile and few desultory comments as I nodded in acknowledgement toward Barry (my boss) who I could see seated behind his desk. He was on the telephone, and gestured with a raised index finger that I should wait a minute.


Like a visit to the doctor, Barry always makes me wait outside his office before he'll call me in. I never used to read anything into it, but now I know it's a definite power thing with him and psychological tool.


Just like Barry, by which I mean a tool.



When Barry finally called me in, I took a seat in the armed leather chair adjacent to his desk. He was still in the process of hanging-up the phone, but greeted me with a handshake and his car-salesman's smile.

"Hey Lodo, glad you could come in. Take a seat. Jimmy! You wanna come in here? Lodo's here."


At which point Jimmy entered the office, slowly closed the door behind him, and took a seat in a chair similar to mine.


"Tell you what Jimmy," Barry began with a heavy sigh," why don't you get things started."


Jimmy shifted in his chair, pushed his Coke-bottle glasses up to the bridge of his nose, and proceeded to collate a few files he had on his lap.


"Okay Barry, thanks," he said as he cleared his throat. "....Lodo, we've got to talk about the quality of some of these reports you've submitted."


"Really? Okay. Was there a particular file?"


"Yeah there was. ...Look at this one. A bus accident. Lodo, you say in your report that the driver disputes the police officer's explanation; but if you look at the police report closely, the accident could actually have happened the way the officer says."


Jimmy handed me the report and allowed me to review it. I remembered the case.


"...I never said it couldn't have happened that way Jimmy. The police report obviously speaks for itself; but our driver disputes the report. Our assignment was to secure the driver's statement; so I got our driver's explanation. I agree with you that his story doesn't carry as much weight as the officer's. But at least now we know what he's gonna say, which I assumed was the point of the assignment."


Jimmy looked toward Barry with a meaningful glance.


"Yeah Lodo, but our driver's story makes no sense. If you look at the intersection where the accident happened, there's no STOP sign there like he alleges."


"How do you know that?" I asked.


"Cause I looked on Google maps. There's no STOP sign at that intersection. Did you look at the scene before you took our guy's statement?"


"We were never asked to perform a scene inspection. If we were, I'd have gone there for photographs and measurements. But our instructions were just to secure our guy's statement. So I met him, gave him a piece of paper. Told him to diagram what happened. ...How hard is it? It was just two-vehicles."


"Well Lodo, you should have looked on Google so you would have known about that STOP sign issue."


Hmmmm. Should have looked on Google despite no request for a scene investigation. ...You know reader, maybe Jimmy was right? I mean, back in the day if a client wanted a scene inspection it had to be requested. It was an investigative task in and of itself that got billed. But in this modern, technological world of Yahoo maps and Google images, maybe I should have gone to Google maps to check the intersection on-line.


So while it was bit uncomfortable to hear, maybe there was some validity to Jimmy's criticisms. I began to assume a more humble demeanor.


Yet as Jimmy began to run-down his other quality "issues" they became more and more insubstantial. Almost trivial--at least in my mind; and I've been doing this kind of work a long time. Each time he'd point out a perceived oversight and each time I provided an explanation, or the logic behind my actions. Until eventually Jimmy, obviously unconvinced, seemed exasperated by my density.


What's going on here? I began to ask myself.


It was only when Barry; perhaps energized by my flagging spirit went for the knockout blow that he left himself exposed and revealed his true intentions.


"So listen Lodo," Barry suddenly interjected with a voice that rose in volume like a proclamation, "we're not saying this 'cause its pick on Lodo Day! 'Uhh,...hey Jimmy, lets go pick on Lodo!'"


"No," Jimmy chimed in as he shook his head meditatively and stared at the floor.


"No, these are serious problems," continued Barry, "problems that are gonna cost us clients. Particularly your reports, my God!"


"What about my reports?" I asked with amazement.


"It takes me hours to review and fix your reports," Jimmy responded as he looked up from the floor.


"What?! It took you an hour to edit one of my reports? "


"All of your reports Lodo. Hours, "Jimmy repeated with haggard eyes, as if my poor reporting had left him mentally scarred. "Everyone of 'em."


Well reader, now I understood. Jimmy had me rattled for a moment with that Google Maps stuff ; but now I saw this was a shakedown.


"You're telling me," I said towards Jimmy in full investigator's mode, "that it takes you hours--with an 's' at the end, for you to review every report of mine?"


"Hours Lodo."


Jimmy and I continued to lock eyes as I mentally struggled to find an explanation for our difficulties.


"...You do know Jimmy that when you put an 's' at the end of a word that means more than one."



"Yeah I know Lodo!" Jimmy snapped.



"Well I don't think you do," I said, " 'cause I've been doing this kind of work for 20 years and I've never received a complaint about my reports. Not about my style anyway. I've had VP's of companies tell me I wrote the best report they ever read. VP's--with an 's' at the end. I've had companies use my reports as training guides for new hires. Every report you ever got from me was on diary. Every report followed the format as provided to me. I don't know what's going on; but for 8 months we had no issues with my work product whatsoever and now suddenly--for the first time, I'm hearing it takes Jimmy hours to edit my reports? Sorry, but I don't believe that. If someone were making my life that difficult I'd have let them know in about 2 seconds. I'd ha..."


"Well we're letting you know!," Barry interjected again. "If you can't get the quality and billing up to where we need it we're not gonna be able to keep you Lodo. ...At least,...not at your present compensation level."


Not at your present compensation level. Okay reader, now I really saw it. And if you're a regular here at Intermission you know that my boss has been a lying piece of shit from the get-go. Scammed me on my health insurance--twice! Plus my bonus; my car allowance; the consistently late paychecks and expense payments. At least, not at your present compensation level. Um hmm.


"Listen Barry," I told him, "I'm not a Communist. I believe in Capitalism. If you can find someone who does what I can do for less money, then you've gotta take him. Do what you've gotta do. "


* NOTE: As mentioned previoulsy, my computer's down at the moment and I don't want to download any pics or photos into this borrowed machine. I think the posts really suffer without pics and clips, so I'm gonna split this into another part and wait for my machine to get fixed. Thanks for reading y'all!!