It's a busy week, and a short one, since I'm leaving tomorrow for the land of the new nipple. Something about that strikes me as hilarious. Until I think about what it may entail, then it's not so funny. I'm using my usual coping mechanism of distraction.
Luckily, I have a lot to distract me. Last week, one of our employees (Don Quixote) phoned in with a broken hand. He allegedly broke it the day after Christmas, but didn't realize it was broken until three days later. Is that even possible? I've never had a fracture, but I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be able to feel it when it happens. There were witnesses around all day when Don was loading plywood, but none of them heard even so much as an "owie!" from him.
Hemorrhoid Guy (the unfortunate guy in charge of this slacker) had Don come in and fill out paperwork. I went downstairs to talk with him about the workers' comp process and he wanted to know where he could go to get his blood pressure taken care of. Seems it was a bit high when he noticed the broken hand and went to the hospital. I told him workers compensation doesn't cover high blood pressure. He seemed disappointed. I went through my whole song and dance. I thought we'd come to a meeting of the minds.
An hour after he left, the phone calls began. I spoke with him five times that day and at least twice every day after that. Don calls periodically to argue with me about whether he can use his union's health insurance to pay for things. He wants to know when he'll start getting paid. He's called about that a couple of times. Apparently it takes at least three repetitions of all information before it begins to sink into Don's dense brain. In our last conversation, Don complained that our insurance company was grilling him about the three days he was oblivious to his broken hand. Don is insulted that anyone would question his version of events. Yeah. Go figure.
I've done what I can for him. All of his paperwork has been submitted and I've spoken to the insurance folks. I also sent everyone an email telling them that, if Don calls, give him our insurance company's phone number. He already has it, but he's used that as an excuse to call me several times. I'd hate for Mr. Quixote to drive my fellow Crazy Land residents even more crazy.
In about 20 minutes, I have to attend a web seminar on terminating employees. Some people actually do get fired at Crazy Land. It just never happens to the people who work on site. I expect the seminar will take up the rest of my day.
The other big news is that the rash-like area on my left leg is spreading still. I saw the doctor again yesterday and she questioned me about ticks. Lyme disease, you know. I'm not aware of any tick contact, but they've been digging up the entire airport across the street and we've had some wild refugees (remember the rat pack?) who've emigrated. I suppose something might have been carrying a tick. I have hard-core antibiotics to kill it (in case that's what I've got). Meanwhile, we've done a biopsy and I'll get the results in a couple of weeks.
I've decided to put off starting the antibiotics until I have the nipple work done. Nipple work. Man, I crack myself up.