"You're going to live to regret this"

Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show...(the opening lines of David Copperfield as written by Charles Dickens;inspired by MTM). Or at least this ACCOUNT will, perhaps, have a reflection on whether I'm going to be the hero in my own life.

...at night I dream that she is there
and I can feel her in the air
tell me, tell me, the words to define
the way I feel about someone so fine
how do you talk to an angel---1992---The Heights

On this day, Thursday, 17 June 1992, at 5:30AM, upon walking in and being introduced by way of the dead-panned remark of Sean G. "...you're going to live to regret this," I started at AIRBORNE(ABX) Express!!!

For the first time in my adult-career-life, at 41 years old, I sensed that I had finally hit pay-dirt.

"...Live to regret this?!?!?"

Words more prophetic than this have never before, or since, been spoken. When one is in-the-moment one is not going to be able to see it. But all these years later those words ring like the Bells in The Notre Dame bell towers. Those words are bitter sweet. The sweetness is that, at 41 years old, I knew that I had finally gotten myself into an employment situation where, given enough time for the seniority residuals to materialize, I and my family would come to realize a middle-class life-style that we hadn't enjoyed in more that a decade. The additional sweetness was...that I pulled it off!!!

It was the classic conjunction of the right place, right time, and having the right chemistry with the key hiring person. To this day, I include his name expressing gratitude in my Prayer-of-the-Faithful invocations. One must understand that while I was pounding the pavement looking for work, I was hiding a little secret. I did not know all the sordid details yet, but I knew 'something' was wrong. My body wasn't working on all eight-cylinders anymore. I knew of 'some' things because---they were evident to me. The loss of balance, as an example, was kicking-in a bit more often. Nobody noticed this in the early '90's when I worked Christmas NIGHT-CREW @ TOYS R US and had to navigate product, secured by my two hands, up and down ladders maintaining the OVERHEAD. I did it, but I had a couple of 'incidences' that, thank God, I was able to pick myself up from and brush myself off.

The 'unusual' walking-gait, at least for me, was a bit more evident. Although, sharing this 'matter' confidentially with someone that I attended a 1992 Reunion with, apparently the 'gait' wasn't noticed. But the biggest 'telegraph' that said I was no longer 100 percent, was observing me attempting to lift. I couldn't see myself; nor did I want to. If I had done a lifting task in front of a mirror to observe the reality, I probably would have dropped to my knees right there, and cried. It is difficult to explain. The initial bending down to grasp the item frontally, already is challenging my balance. The item, and its weight, is already bringing me forward so I topple. I had to cheat mother-nature. I would reach down to grip in a staggered stutter-step position; left foot positioned ahead of the right foot. This sustained the balance. And of course one knows that they are always taught to lift from the knees. I could not. Always had to lift from my back. My back did it all, because my legs couldn't spring-load me upright, let alone upright with 35# of freight in hand; degenerative muscle-tone.

So even as I knew something was wrong; trying to stay ahead of mother-nature, I was still---in denial. This can't be happening to me. what had plagued my Dad most of his adult-life, isn't happening to me...or is it!?!?!? At the urging of my sister Rose, and the fact that my TEAMSTERS Health Insurance benefits had become a reality, I embarked on an odyssey; an odyssey like Jason and the Argonauts, I would find out about villains and obstacles. The first thing I learn is that I have a shrunken cerebellum. This explains why I have lost my sense of balance. The specialists now have a label that tries to explain the rest of this disaster; Familial Spastic Paraplegia. But enough of the sordid medical details, it is the bittersweet taste I want to stay with. How, in this environment, where I had to constantly stay ahead of the disability curve and create techniques that would defy mother-nature to keep me productive. Keep in mind that in walking this tight-rope, sometimes I was doing this along moving machinery. And sometimes I was out on the tarmac of the Buffalo International Airport extracting ridiculous types of freight(xerox copy-machines) out of the bellies of DC-9's.

This is no lie!!! The summer of 1992, when I first started at ABX, I was 191#. And it rained virtually every morning that summer so it was always hot and humid, even at 06:38AM. Since I was "low-man", I got the "Belly" job. By the end of September, I was 180#!!!

Three reasons!!! Firstly, as I already mentioned it was always hot and muggy. Secondly, the BUF freight was the FIRST-LEG of a two-legged flight. We had one half-hour(no lie) to extract ALL of BUF's freight; Belly and the 35 containers up on the DECK, so that this DC-9 could FINAL in Rochester. Thirdly, in such a time-constraint setting I had to keep my wits about me at all times. One mistake...don't even want to go there. But, the mental stress of staying attentive to survive was also a part of these reasons that contributed to the weight loss. And yes, that was sweet, too!!!

In the bitterness of all these challenges, there arose this red flower; this recognition. And to this day, I wear it with pride. I see it as my Red Badge of Courage. To survive; to stay productive, to beat the odds, I had to stay INTENSE in the workplace. Anything less, and I would have been the beaten man. I wasn't going to let that happen; not with TEAMSTERS pay & benefits.

This is now around 1994. A tower-of-strength in his own right, Pat F., observing me one day, going-to-town in my assigned work area, dead-pans...Crazy Lou!!!

It was a perfect fit. I use it to this day; it is my email user name.

Some of the bitterness would continue this way. Because I was classified PART-TIME when I first started and only guaranteed 20 hours, the early 90's were a blend of ABX and Toys R Us. By the mid 90's, through the auspices of a good referral from Pat F., we were also augmenting ABX again. This time it was with Barnett Brass. And I was grateful because I needed the P/T augmentation but I wasn't getting it on my own because by now, some 'things' were becoming a bit more evident. TOPS denied me a shot at a night-crew job. And I knew why; just couldn't prove it. Being at Barnett Brass with Pat F. gave me a chance to return a favor. Mikey J. was just below me now in seniority and P/T too. I got Mikey the P/T job at Barnett. It was like ABX 2!!!!! To this day Mikey and I are tight. If I was in a foxhole it would be Mikey that I would trust my back to. And speaking of Mikey~~~and intensity, the buzz expression at ABX/DHL...right up to the end; coined by Mikey J. was...Lou works hard, so we don't have to!!!

By 1999, I was finally guaranteed a 40-hour work week. With the pay, benefits, and O/T, I resign Barnett. Things are looking good. I even have a son attending the St. Joseph Collegiate Institute. By this time, the Station Manager, Michael G., who hired me, has recognized my struggles. He tries, where seniority will allow, to fit me into less labor-intense areas. This includes the summer vacation-replacement situation where I worked the Billy D. area. This area of responsibility includes covering the front counter. And this is at the FRONT-COUNTER, that I had an experience with a middle-aged female customer where the...'but that other guy' story comes from(see WEB LOG #2)!!!!

Ushering in the 'new' millennium also ushered in the dot.com bust. And with it, the culmination of the BITTER. ABX had fallen on hard times. In 2002 we found redemption with the purchase by D H L Express. D H L's intent was to go toe-to-toe with Fed Ex and UPS. By 2002, I'm needing two canes and an in-house scooter for the longer distances, to get around the station. I'm using steel-toed boots and knee pads because I could crawl faster to get from work-station to work-station. And because my balance was so gone by now, it made more sense for me to work from my knees in a four-point-stance to strip and load our shipping containers. The management element that had been sensitive to my situation; Michael G., Shaun S., and Tom R. are gone. Their replacements have only one thing in mind; productivity. By 2003, for survival, I bid on what we call in the CRAFT; a split-shift; 4-hour AM SORT, 4-hour PM SORT. It sucks, but I can no Longer deal with a labor-intense straight-eight-hour work shift. My Tootsie loved me being home in the middle of the day!!! We'd have our nap, together.

I'm not going to elaborate because I just don't want to recount the details, again. Once was enough. My experience, during 2006 had turned nightmarish. And even after approaching the union stewards and management, it was still never resolved. We had these 3 part-time casuals that just wanted to "f" me, any chance they could. The lead of these three had to be the classic grade-school and high-school bully. Their objective was simply to wear me down to where I'd leave and facilitate them moving up in seniority.

The bitterness is that in the end~~~nobody moved up, because in 2009, D H L moved out!!!

After 6 years and $8 BILLION dollars of debt, D H L didn't want to go toe-to-toe, anymore, with FED EX and UPS.

On 17 November 2008, in my SEVENTEENTH year of service, I was laid-off. I packed my steel-toe-boots, my knee-pads, my scooter; I cried and I left for home. At 57 years years old, with a scooter in tow, what is the likelihood of finding a job akin to the TEAMSTERS pay and benefits???

It took me many years to appreciate that joke; the one about...a prayer's chance---and hell!?!? But I'm beginning---to get it.

"...going to live to regret this!?!?"
Yes Sean, I have. I am living to regret that the LIFE-STYLE that I have come to know and love, may be a thing of my past. That would be the BITTER pill to have to swallow.
--{-=@
Hickok
The Promise