10-08-2008, 05:37 PM
When I was twenty years old, I used to work for a company called Seismographic Services Inc. Basically what it did was oil exploration. We traveled through out Michigan criss crossing the state, staying in various motels, crossing state land , private land, swamps, woods, etc, etc, looking for oil. I worked on the survey crew, and it was our job to plot out a straight line across the land and clean a trail for the rest of the crew to follow.
My first boss and surveyor was a really cool and nice guy that just happened to be a neighbor of my mom and dad. We worked together great for about eight months and although the job was pretty tough, I had a blast. Then he retired.
The guy that replaced him was a complete and through prick. He was about thirty eight years old and he hated everybody, especially me. He started belittling me from the moment he laid eyes on me. Every day I found out how stupid I was. How ugly I was. How I screwed EVERYTHING up. He was creative about it. There was NO joking involved. He meant every word. Venom spewed from his lips and I got real sick of it real quick.
As the surveyors assistant, I carried an odd assortment of tools. I carried a hammer for pounding nails in trees. I carried a machete (2-1/2 foot long knife) for chopping our way through a swamp or just trimming off stray branches that may be in the line of sight of th surveyor. I also carried a prism pole. Let me explain.
A prism pole was constructed out various diameters PVC pipe in six foot lengths, each inside of each other so that it would extend out to about twenty feet. Perched on the pipe that reached the highest was a set of three geo prisms. These geo prisms were there to reflect the laser light emitted from the surveyor scope. This was to judge distance. This pole was well used and had been fixed at the bottom with a heater hose clamp, which had a tendency to collect forest debris.
The dick surveyor set up his tripod on top of a large hill and I took my pole and went out to shoot distances between stations. Everything was going normal until I was approaching the surveyors position when the geo prism pole grabbed a stray branch with its evil heater hose clamp, unbenounced to me. As I walked by the surveyors tripod the branch brushed up against his tripod and he come unglued.
"F-ing stupid, C-sucking Mother f-ing, shit for brains, stupid ugly kid" were some of the adjectives he hurled at me. He pissed me off so bad that I told him where he could stick his f-ing pole and quit on the spot. I threw the pole down and started to walk back down the hill. I still had on my possession, however, my hammer and my machete.
Before I had walked fifty feet I heard him say "You quit? I never liked you anyway" and then he sprinted after me fists flying. In the few seconds that it took for him to get to me I thought "I don't really want to kill this Mother-F'r."
Three steps before he got to me I threw my machete and my hammer to the ground and he threw a hay-maker at me, I ducked so he missed but I lost my balance on the hill and started tumbling back-wards all the while he was trying to hit me and I trying to mule kick him. I think I got him pretty good a few times because by the time we got to the bottom of the hill the fight had left him. I just looked at him said "what the F" and walked out of the woods.
After I finally got back to the motel that Seismic Services were using as an office I reported the incident to the big wigs. They told me flat out he was valuable to them, that he had worked for them for fifteen years and that whether or not the incident actually took place he wasn't going to fired, punished, or reprimanded. I said OK, seeeyaaa. Then I moved to Grand Rapids.
My first boss and surveyor was a really cool and nice guy that just happened to be a neighbor of my mom and dad. We worked together great for about eight months and although the job was pretty tough, I had a blast. Then he retired.
The guy that replaced him was a complete and through prick. He was about thirty eight years old and he hated everybody, especially me. He started belittling me from the moment he laid eyes on me. Every day I found out how stupid I was. How ugly I was. How I screwed EVERYTHING up. He was creative about it. There was NO joking involved. He meant every word. Venom spewed from his lips and I got real sick of it real quick.
As the surveyors assistant, I carried an odd assortment of tools. I carried a hammer for pounding nails in trees. I carried a machete (2-1/2 foot long knife) for chopping our way through a swamp or just trimming off stray branches that may be in the line of sight of th surveyor. I also carried a prism pole. Let me explain.
A prism pole was constructed out various diameters PVC pipe in six foot lengths, each inside of each other so that it would extend out to about twenty feet. Perched on the pipe that reached the highest was a set of three geo prisms. These geo prisms were there to reflect the laser light emitted from the surveyor scope. This was to judge distance. This pole was well used and had been fixed at the bottom with a heater hose clamp, which had a tendency to collect forest debris.
The dick surveyor set up his tripod on top of a large hill and I took my pole and went out to shoot distances between stations. Everything was going normal until I was approaching the surveyors position when the geo prism pole grabbed a stray branch with its evil heater hose clamp, unbenounced to me. As I walked by the surveyors tripod the branch brushed up against his tripod and he come unglued.
"F-ing stupid, C-sucking Mother f-ing, shit for brains, stupid ugly kid" were some of the adjectives he hurled at me. He pissed me off so bad that I told him where he could stick his f-ing pole and quit on the spot. I threw the pole down and started to walk back down the hill. I still had on my possession, however, my hammer and my machete.
Before I had walked fifty feet I heard him say "You quit? I never liked you anyway" and then he sprinted after me fists flying. In the few seconds that it took for him to get to me I thought "I don't really want to kill this Mother-F'r."
Three steps before he got to me I threw my machete and my hammer to the ground and he threw a hay-maker at me, I ducked so he missed but I lost my balance on the hill and started tumbling back-wards all the while he was trying to hit me and I trying to mule kick him. I think I got him pretty good a few times because by the time we got to the bottom of the hill the fight had left him. I just looked at him said "what the F" and walked out of the woods.
After I finally got back to the motel that Seismic Services were using as an office I reported the incident to the big wigs. They told me flat out he was valuable to them, that he had worked for them for fifteen years and that whether or not the incident actually took place he wasn't going to fired, punished, or reprimanded. I said OK, seeeyaaa. Then I moved to Grand Rapids.
"Sir, You need to get out of your car, there is a train comming."
"Why ummm... uhhh did you ummm... feel the need to errrrr, god why can't I type!!"
"Why ummm... uhhh did you ummm... feel the need to errrrr, god why can't I type!!"