Anxiety

From my teens through my thirties I had a recurring anxiety dream. It was never exactly the same but it always involved the ocean.

I grew up a mile or so from Long Island Sound which is essentially the Atlantic Ocean. Every now and then hurricanes would pass harmlessly to the east creating enormous waves. I loved it, we all did. Huge waves meant the best, most exhilarating surfing you could get in our normally calm waters. Of course they were also the most dangerous and many times I found myself bobbing disoriented with white churning water all around me obscuring the shore and my friends.

In my dreams the waves are bigger. Sometimes the dreams began with me already in the water, but the worst were being on the beach and being unable to escape as wave after wave crashed on shore, dragging me out to sea.

I'd love to have those anxiety dreams again. They were a piece of cake compared to what my subconscious now (literally) dreams up for me.

Now my anxiety dream is that I'm back at the company where I was happiest, where I worked from age 22 to 33. You'd think that'd be nice right? No, no one knows me anymore, even people I worked with for all 11 of those years. I'd actually built up a pretty good reputation there (in reality) I was considered an "idea guy" and a hard worker. I was the liaison between the geeks of the IT department and the money men on "Mahogany Row." In an office of 400 people, I was known by 400 people. In my nightmare no one knows me at all.

Not so bad, right? Fairly average anxiety dream. But then in my dreams I try to call Téa and alternatively she doesn't take my call, or worse, is now with someone else. 

Now my new nightmare isn't being overwhelmed (which waves and drowning are pretty easily interpreted to mean) it's being irrelevant.

People Suck

Ye Olde Cotton Mill & Sweat Shop

Five years into working at Ye Olde Cotton Mill & Sweat Shop Edwina, one of my favorite employees came into my office and collapsed into the chair next to my desk. Chin down she looked at me with tear-filled eyes before totally breaking down.

"Eddy, what is it?" I asked genuinely concerned.

"I got to have my uterus out. I got tumors," she cried softly.

I took her hand. Edwina was already a grandmother, albeit a young one (she was 40) so I didn't think a hysterectomy would be that big a deal, but certainly tumors weren't good.

"What kind of tumors? Did they do a biopsy?"

Composing herself and squeezing my hand she whispered "It's the big C."

I was truly heartbroken for her. It was mid-November and we would soon be entering a slow period and the holidays were looming. It would be a tough time to be out of work, never mind being out of work with cancer.

"Do you want to go home?" I asked returning the hand squeeze.

"No, I got to keep my mind occupied," she replied, wiping her tears. "I'm just going to need time off now and again."

"Of course."

We stood, hugged, and she went back to work. I went to inform Jack and the plant owner that Edwina had cancer. Both were sympathetic, she'd worked for the company for 12 years and she was a very popular lady. Mr. Rick said that we would pay Edwina her while she was out recovering from her surgery, a very generous gesture.

Soon got around the plant about Edwina's condition. Charlotte and Judy organized a food drive so that Edwina wouldn't have to worry about Thanksgiving dinner. So much food was collected I'm pretty sure she could have fed half the county. Money was raised too, not a lot, but Cal the vice president matched the amount raised by the employees so in the end it was a decent sum.

Everyone felt pretty good about what we'd done as a team. We were a fairly small textile company, about 90 people on two shifts, but everyone pulled together for one of our own.

Just before Christmas Edwina had her surgery. Mr. Rick told her not to worry about hurrying back, the company would pay her while she was out. The important thing was that she get better.

The start of the new year is traditionally slow for textile companies, so Edwina's absence wasn't a big deal scheduling wise. In fact it was our usual policy to offer layoffs to our most senior personnel so that they could take about 4 weeks off (collecting unemployment). Some preferred to work so the offer was extended to less senior folks until we reached our staffing needs.

Mr. Rick decided that we would continue to pay Edwina during the slow period rather than put her out on unemployment since her wages were obviously more than a check from the state. I was proud to work for such a generous man.

February rolled around and we recalled everyone as planned, but Edwina said she still wasn't ready to come back. Perhaps we could lay her off a month? Mr. Rick said no, we would pay her another month if that's what she needed.

About that time Mandy, our Aflac rep came in to help me prepare for our annual employee insurance enrollment. We went down the list of employees and discussed who had what plan and what the rate increases would be. We came to Edwina and I noted she had a cancer policy.

"Well that came in handy," I said pointing to Edwina's name on the page. "I know cancer policies are usually a bad investment, but I'm glad she did it."

"Why?" asked Mandy.

"Because she has cancer," I replied, filling her in on the whole Thanksgiving dinner/paying her wages story.

Mandy frowned, pulled out another folder and read.

"She's never made a claim against it."

I was surprised and then again not surprised. I wasn't working with the most sophisticated people.

"She might have forgotten she has it, or she might not know how to proceed." I said.

"Do you have her number? We can call her together and get some money to her," Mandy offered.

I called Edwina's home and discovered she had gone to Georgia for the week. I left a message for her to call me as soon as she returned.

About four minutes later my phone rang; it was Edwina.

I put her on speaker phone and we began explaining how she was entitled to money from her cancer policy and all she had to do was give Mandy her bills and she would handle getting her reimbursed.

This was pretty much our expression.

"No, that's okay," Edwina said.

Mandy and I stared at each other.

"Eddy," Mandy said leaning into the microphone, "you've paid for this. It's okay to collect what's owed to you. It can really help with your expenses."

"Nooo," Edwina's distant voice replied "I don't want to do that just yet."

Our jaws dropped.

Edwina said she had to go, but thanks for trying to be helpful. She clicked off.

Mandy put her hand on my arm.

"She doesn't have cancer, Ian."

I was stunned. Then furious. Then stunned again. Mandy hugged me, gathered her papers and left saying she'd return the next day.

I walked into Mr Rick's office and closed the door. I explained to him what had just happened and the only conclusion that Mandy and I could draw.

"Can you find out if she had cancer or not?" he asked.

"No, HIPAA prevents me from knowing anything about her medical condition. But not filing against the cancer policy...she's stopping short of insurance fraud."

Mr. Rick pressed his finger tips together.

"Call her back to work," he said simply.

"She took our money!"

"We're not wrong for trying to do the right thing," he said calmly. "Call her back into work for Monday. If she refuses, terminate her." He moved some papers on his desk. "But she won't refuse."

Sure enough, he was right. Edwina returned to work on Monday.

Jack was beside himself and frankly so was I. He was able to exact a little revenge though; for the next year Edwina got the shittiest work in the plant. Jack reasoned that she's already been paid for it.

Oh, and the "big C" that she had? Cysts.

People suck.

The Chronicles of Jaycee: Heroin is a Helluva Drug

I'd been working at Ye Olde Cotton Mill & Sweat Shop (thanks for the name, Zack) for 10 years when things came to a head with Jaycee. Jaycee is one of the reasons I hated working in human resources: it turns out people suck.

Jaycee, her sister Ailee and her stepmother Trixie all worked together in sample department. They were all approximately the same age (that made for an interesting dynamic, let me tell you) with Trixie as their supervisor. Jaycee could have been in a Country Girl Calendar. About 5'6" with long brown hair and the most extraordinary blue eyes I've ever seen in person. They were the color of a pristine swimming pool in a mid-day sun. She had a pretty face with a very strong jaw and she was solidly built. (As I said, country girl.) She had runaway from home at 14 to escape the tyranny of Trixie and her daddy (pronounced DEH-deh) and to make sure they couldn't bring her home, she got knocked up. Now at the age of 28 she was struggling with a willful teen son and an 11-year-old daughter with a weight problem.

She also had to cope with her drug dealer husband Ham. Ham is quite possibly the shittiest person I've ever met. He's about 5'4" of grubby good ol' boy charm and was ultimately responsible for me having to come up with a code to announce that there was an armed intruder in the plant. But that's a different story.

There's a big difference between "knowing" someone does drugs and "knowing" someone does drugs. We had reasonable suspicions about Jaycee since her husband was arrested for selling heroin with 500 yards of a school (an incident that truly opened my eyes about how blacks and whites are treated when it comes to drug crimes; that is also another story.) However she never missed a day at work and was unfailingly good at what she did. Then one day May, one of Jaycee's closest friends, came into my office and shut the door. May's face was red and her jaw was set.

"You need to drug test Jaycee right now," she said as if I had forgotten to pick my socks up off the living room floor. (Trust me, I know that tone of voice for that particular offense.)

"May, unless I have cause I cannot march down there and drug test Jaycee. If you're telling me you've witnessed something, then that's a different story."

"Ham gave her a McDonald's bag at lunch and now she's all red-faced and scratching all the time."

I was wondering if red face and itchiness were a good enough cause when May added: "And she's staring at the wall. And she has been for 20 minutes."

May left my office and I walked over to the samples area. Sure enough Jaycee was staring at the wall with the most vacant look I've ever seen. Her only movements were random scratching of her arm, face, thigh, etc.

"Jaycee, are you okay?" I asked quietly.

She turned to me and her bright blue eyes were very bloodshot.

"Hey, Ian," she smiled "Oh, I'm fine."

She moved towards her machine.

"Jaycee," I said, stepping between her and her machine, "I don't think you're okay. In fact, I want you to come to the conference room with me."

Everyone knew that the conference room (which had its own bathroom) was where I conducted drug tests.

Her scratching intensified.

"I'm fine. I need to leave early today though. Ham's going to pick me up in 15 minutes. Is that okay?"

I gritted my teeth.

"Let's go to the conference room, Jaycee."

She was now scratching like she had a flea infestation but she headed for the conference room. The sample area was right next to it so we didn't attract that much attention.

Once in the conference room she stared at me, definitely more aware of what was going on.

"So what's the problem?" she asked casually.

"Did Ham bring you something besides a burger at lunch?" I asked. My meaning was clear.

"I don't do drugs, Ian. I know everyone thinks I do because of Ham, but he's clean too and no I didn't get nothing besides a burger and fries and I don't know why you think I did." Her words were rushed, her eyes were unblinking, and her scratching was getting on my nerves.

I went to a cabinet and pulled out a 5 cup (a cup that instantly tests for five types of drugs) and handed it to her.

"I want you to go to the bathroom and fill this up to this line," I said indicating the "full line" on the little clear cup.

"I ain't got to pee." she announced.

Of course she didn't.

"I'll go get you a water," I offered her helpfully.

She shrugged noncommittally. "Don't forget Ham's comin' to get me in 15 minutes."

"Ham can wait," I responded as I went to get her water.

A one-liter of bottle later, she went into the bathroom with the pee cup. She left the door ajar as I instructed and I could hear her fumbling around. After about 4 minutes she walked back into the conference room with her jeans around her knees holding the empty pee cup. I can still recall the little flowers on her white cotton bikini briefs.

"I cain't pee, Ian, I'm sorry. How about I pee tomorrow?" She was completely oblivious to the fact her pants were around her knees. She scratched her neck which was now turning dark red from all the digging she'd been doing.

"Sure, Jaycee," I said walking out of the conference room. "You can pee tomorrow."

When I got back to my office May was waiting for me.

"Well?" she demanded. "She on somethin'?"

"May, I appreciate you coming to me, but I can't discuss personnel matters with you."

Coincidentally at the moment Jaycee clocked out just outside my door and walked past.

May nodded at me curtly and went back to her machine.

The next morning I informed the plant manager, Jack, what had happened with Jaycee.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he muttered rubbing his face.

Jaycee walked by our office and smiled a huge smile. Her eyes were clear and bright.

"I'm ready to pee, Ian," she chirped as she clocked in.

"I have some stuff I have to get done, Jaycee, I'll come get you." I called back.

Jack and I had been told by employees that we had a core group who when they knew they might be tested, got test tubes full of their children's urine and inserted it into their vaginas to fool the test. You see, the test had a thermometer to avoid a "cold sample" that someone might "donate" to the testee. The test tube would keep the urine at body temperature and since I am a man, they knew that I wouldn't be in the bathroom with them when they had to fill the cup.

Yeah.

We decided to let Jaycee incubate her sample until 10, hoping the discomfort of walking around with a test tube of urine in her hoo-hoo would be some sort of vengeance for wasting our time.

At 10 Jack and I summoned her to the conference room. She looked slightly uncomfortable and actually pretty relieved.

"You want me to go pee now?" she offered cheerfully.

"No," I responded. "We both know you'll pass this morning."

Her smile faded.

"Jaycee," Jack asked levelly, "are you using?"

"No, Jack. I swear. I swear I'm not." Her sincerity was palpable.

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly.

"Oh my God yes, Jack. I am clean. I just had an allergic reaction or somethin' yesterday. I ain't usin' anything. Well, sometimes some weed on the weekends, but y'all know that's just like beer. I might-a tested positive for that, but that's all. You know that stays in your system for 30 days."

I was impressed she knew how long THC remains in the body.

I stood up and pulled my car keys out of my pocket.

"Ian's going to take you down the the Urgent Care for a blood test, Jaycee."

She sagged in her chair.

"You don't need to. It'll show positive for heroin," she sighed. "Am I fired?"

"No," I answered, partially annoyed with having to say that. "Mr. Rick is going to pay to send you to rehab."

Yes, my boss, the company owner was going to pay to send her to rehab.

How that turned out is another story.