From: malQassRimiMlation@gmail.com   
      
   I knew a CO Tech back in the day: a guy named Lenny I admired and   
   respected, who took a bid to "I&R", which was the Instalation and   
   Repair department that handled new phone installs and repair work on   
   existing lines, and equipment such as PBX sites.   
      
   I saw him, one day, shooting the breeze with another CO guy, and I   
   askd him if he was thinking of coming back in from the cold: one of   
   those jibes that union men trade with each other when they're   
   wondering how the other half lives.   
      
   He told me that I needed to involve myself in a sexual act, and that   
   he would never even think about giving up the freedom he enjoyed by   
   being an "outside" man. I thought about that for a few seconds, and   
   told him that I might try it myself.   
      
   He smiled, and said something I've always remembered: "Bill, I love   
   working with the stuff in your office: every time I have to borrow a   
   T-Bird or an impulse box, I always come here, 'cause I know everything   
   in your closet is good to go. It's really nice to have a place where   
   everything always works. You're a good 'Inside' man."   
      
   I was surprised. It seemed obvious to me that everything had to work:   
   it was part of my job to make sure that it was so. If test equipment   
   failed a readiness test, I would send it out to the repair depot. I   
   even sent one of the battery-powered units off to a battery company   
   which promised to repair anything damaged by leaking batteries: they   
   took a month or two, but they /did/ repair it.   
      
   Anyway, the subject turned to overtime, and when I asked Lenny if he was   
   going to take the vacation time he was owed, or agree to accept the   
   extra pay instead, he told me that he couldn't take any time off,   
   since his foreman had everyone assigned to "Winter Work," which he told   
   me was work the "Outside" guys did every Fall in preparation for   
   winter. There was quite a list: not only checking seals on vault doors,   
   but also laying in emergency food and fuel at various sites where the   
   crews could shelter if their trucks broke down or got snowed in.   
      
   We said goodbye, after we agreed that I would do best staying   
   "inside," and he got back in his truck to do battle with Boston   
   traffic. It was about 1988: a year later, I had accepted a job as a   
   computer programmer, and I don't remember ever seeing Lenny again.   
      
   I remember that "long ago and far away" conversation now, since I just   
   got back from seeing a surgeon about the injuries to my wrist: his   
   "second opinion" boils down to a prediction that I'll probably need to   
   learn to write with my other hand, and that my left wrist will wind up   
   locked in a fixed position, even though he said I'd still be able to   
   type.   
      
   I've got some "Winter Work" to do: I'll need mechanical aids to open   
   cans and jars and bottles with a single hand, and shoveling snow will   
   be out of the question, so I'll have to make a list of supplies to lay   
   in: Kerosene, dry goods, medicines, batteries, books to read, and   
   traditional winter clothes such as Long Johns and watch caps. I'll   
   need a few smaller fuel cans to divide my emergency fuel into:   
   containers small and light enough to pour from with one hand. Plus, of   
   course, time for practice runs.   
      
   It's quite a list, and if there are gaps in the Digest during the next   
   few months, it's because I'm doing Winter Work.   
      
   --   
   Bill Horne   
   (Remove QRM from my email address to write to me directly)   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)