Take Control of Your Life and Hang On

Life Goes On

Early in the year I asked to come back to work, with light duty to start, until I can get myself in gear. "You'll come back under full steam or you won't be back," was the reply. I realized at that point the dedication I showed for the past few years was not appreciated. The company was leading technology in many areas of telecommunications and I was a part of it. My ingenuity helped set the trend for many projects for years to come. I wasn't alone, mind you, there were others who contributed too, but I did solve a lot of problems with the emerging technology. I learned not to do the company any favours shortly after coming back to work. One of my friends was promoted into management, he was the nicest guy, friendly, productive, helped others, worked for a common solution as a team and was a smart man and a good supervisor. After a month of management training, he came back using intimidation as a leadership strategy, yelled, reprimanded, and was a general jerk. He acted like the other managers in the company. It was then I realized I didn't have to be treated like that. I started looking for another job. I didn't look in the paper, I asked around for what was available. There were jobs, but being employed by an emerging company would mean uncertainty - done that, low wages - done that, long, long hours - done that, speculative future - done that. I kept looking. A friend of mine got a job at the stock exchange, I was offered the job, but there was a lot of moving computers and I was looking more for thinking rather than doing type work. I kept looking.

What's With Planes And Me?

I drove back to my friend's acres and we celebrated into the night. The next day I headed home. During the 5 hour drive I thought a lot about the new job. That week I was really happy to be around. I told a couple of people and they were happy for me. I made plane reservations, seat 1A, Saturday morning, Calgary to Cranbrook, paid for and confirmed. Friday night came, I was excited. A fleeting second thought but that was normal, after all this was private enterprise again, oh well, I could do a good job there. I got up that Saturday morning, packed a small bag since I was staying with my friends for the weekend, returning Sunday night. I drove to the airport but didn't make it. About half way along the route I got violently ill. The worst headache, vomitting and dizzyness. I pulled over to the side of the road for a few mintues. The symptoms got worse. I realized there was no way I was going to get on that plane. I'll phone him when I feel better and we'll discuss it long distance. I had to sit there for a while longer, long enough to not be able to make the plane on time. Then I began to feel better, I headed for home. By the time I got in my driveway I was feeling great, sorry now that I didn't continue on to the airport and get on the plane.

The news hit me like a ton of bricks, I staggered backward when I heard on the radio a plane crashed on the runway in Cranbrook. Only 9 people survived, all from the rear seats in the tail of the crash. Having a ticket for seat 1A on that flight made me feel sick, only in a different way. I phoned my friends immediately to relieve them of any worry, phoned the station manager telling him I cannot leave my current position for the near future, sat back and pondered life for the rest of the weekend. There were so many unanswered questions; Why me? Why did I get sick? Is there such a thing as destiny? Was this a fluke happening? I had hundreds of unanswered questions now and no means to get answers. As I go through life I still seek the answers to those questions. Friends offer their opinion, I have read dozens of books by experts in the field, but the conclusive evidence remains hidden from me. I keep searching.

We Won A Ball Game, The Life Game Goes On

A New Way of Life

I started travelling Canada, I was heading for Nova Scotia, Cape Breton, Stirling. I wanted to recapture the good feelings I had when it was home. I drove to Saskatchewan, Rowan's Ravine, Frank's Esso. I was looking for a friend, the person I helped move out of the north. I just dropped in to say hello. I found the place, off the highway a few miles beside a very long lake, named Long Lake. I pulled up to the general store and went inside to see if they knew my friend. The owner was behind the counter surrounded by merchandise. I bent over so I could see below the shelf of cigarette cartons. "I am looking for a friend of mine," I said. She pointed at a wall and told me she lived up there. I bought an Orange Crush. Why Orange Crush? Because that was one of my fond memories of Vancouver, drinking Orange Crush out of the dark, thick, rippled bottles. I went outside, the owner followed me. We talked for a while. Friendly place I thought. Little did I know this store owner and I were destined to be together in the future.

I went to see my friend and we visited for the afternoon. I was introduced around, went to the bar that evening for a birthday party. The store owner and I played shuffleboard, then rejoined the group and we all talked for the rest of the evening. Next day, I went to the store for a coffee. There were people hanging around the kitchen talking about the problem in the basement... the water pump died. I went for a look-see. The contacts to make it go were hanging down like two little eyes staring at the floor. I went upstairs and asked for some epoxy. The tubes were put on the table beside a cigarette package. I picked up the cigarettes and ripped off the top flap of the package, to use it as a mixing mat. A hush fell over the room, everyone stared at me, then at Jo-Anne's mother, sitting across from me, then back to me. It seems that no one... I mean no one touched mother's stuff, she commanded respect just by being herself. I had broken the cardinal rule of life at Uhl's Bay, I touched her stuff!. I looked up and she gave me a slight smirk. No words were spoken, I went downstairs to fix the pump and heard conversation pick up again. Many years later, Jo-Anne's mother went to her bedroom in the middle of a "remember when" session around the kitchen table. I thought this odd, her leaving the conversation in mid sentence. She emerged from the hallway with that same cigarette package. She kept it as a keep sake for these many years. We had another topic to chew on.

I left with my friend for the east. By the time we got to northern Ontario I realized the time was not right to head east. I'll do that later. We headed back to Rowan's Ravine. I hung around, off and on, for the rest of the summer. I parked my camper beside the store and visited people in the area, enjoying the friendship, the times around the nightly campfire. The people close to the store were from the same family and visited a lot. Something happened between the store owner and me, I was in no way interested in starting a relationship with a married woman, a point I made very clear, but in spite of the distance we kept between us, there was a chemistry present.

Running A Store Was Great

The summer wasn't great, revenue was down, attendance at the provincial park adjacent to the store was down, my bank account was dwindling, we thought there would be better times ahead so I injected my savings into the store. I really enjoyed the life of a store person. The hours were long, but the variety of jobs to do kept it interesting. It was like living on a dairy farm but there weren't any cows. Lots of chores to do but that was ok.

One day I went downstairs to our pop store room to bring up the cases of soft drinks we would need for that day. At the bottom of the stairs I heard buzzing... lots of buzzing. Buzzing's good when it comes from a saw, but not good when it is bees and wasps, and hornets. These were bees, hundreds of bees. The queen was looking for a new home and squeezed through a tiny hole in the cinder blocks we called the basement wall. She set up shop just over the furnace and sat and waited for her subjects to get their act together and build a hive. Of course, every bee in town must see where the new home is going to be located so they all came through the little hole and swarmed around the queen. I didn't like bees. I have never been stung but I didn't need to experience it just to prove it hurt. I ran upstairs, slamming the door in the bee's faces. Visibly shaken Jo-Anne asked me what was wrong. "Bees... lots of bees," I said, "downstairs, on the furnace" She went to look and made a bee-line up the stairs to the safety of the store. I don't do bees. I clean up cow stuff, move honey pots around, herd sheep, corral cows, but I don't do bees.

Jo-Anne phoned her brother who lived next door. He came over to survey the scene. I patched the hole in the wall. It was decided there were two ways to get the bees out of the basement, remove the queen bee or make them all have a big sleep. He headed back to his place after spending enough time downstairs in that temporary hive to count each bee. A few moments later he returned, dressed in a leather jacket, hat and brandishing two cans of Raid, one in each hand. Downstairs he went, spraying a path before him, alternating the spraying direction from front and back to both sides. The bees fell down, they were stunned by the first wave of "Bee Sleep" in a can. I went downstairs too. We swept the bees into the drain and washed them into the sewer with hot water. Our hope was they would recover in the septic tank and fly away from there. No such luck, they were waking up in the drain pipe and swimming up stream, right at us! "More water!" I yelled, followed by, "More spray!" The bees were beaten back again. Bees are good, they help flowers make more flowers and help cover bread with a natural goodness (honey). It was a shame to say good bye to all the bees, but it would not have been a good plan to have all of us live in the general store.

"How To Make A Young Man Age Quickly"

He found the appropriate books for me to study. Saskatchewan takes pride in the quality of their school bus drivers, they like to take steps to protect their children. I looked at the books and thought I was doing ok, the rules were straight forward and the procedures common sense, this was a snap. It was getting close to exam time and Don was quizzing me. With question after question he was not getting the complete answers, I wasn't paying enough attention to studying. He was noticeably worried the night before the big exam. He asked me all sorts of questions and I drew a blank... I couldn't think of any of the answers. He went home dejected, probably thinking of how to find another driver. Even if I came up with enough answers to pass I would have to wait to be retested, throwing a big delay into his plans. The morning came to be tested. Don put the school bus on a side street ready for me to show the examiner what I don't know. The examiner displayed no sense of humour, this was "our children's safety", not a time for fooling around. I wrote the written exam, scanning through the questions quickly, they were all common sense. I had trouble with the way one of the medical kit questions was worded, but generally, I was sure I did ok. Now it was time for the driving test. What Don didn't know was my secret wish to sometimes be a traffic policeman. Nothing irks me more than seeing an idiot behind the wheel putting people's lives in danger by running a stop sign or passing a stopped school bus when the lights are flashing. I checked the safety of the bus, drove out of town, stopping at each lane way, as if I was picking up children. The instructor told me to pull into the next lane way, I did, then backed out onto the road. I remember Don saying to me if I back up the examiner wants me to stay in the appropriate lane. I did. We went back to town and had a coffee. I passed! I am sure Don was the happiest person that morning. I lived in the house next door and was qualified to help him with his route.

Shortly after that experience the bus died, the engine said cough! and stopped running. While waiting for a new one we drove "school cars". A bunch of us family types got out our personal cars and split up the bus route. One morning I picked up my group and headed for the school. Jo-Anne's father was ahead of me, also heading for the school with a car full. All of a sudden he braked, stopping for the kid standing on the left side of the road. I braked too but hit a patch of ice. The car headed straight for the stopped school car ahead. I couldn't go left - kid standing on the road. I went right, down the embankment into the ditch, kept up my speed, went by the stopped school car, and climbed the embankment back onto the road. Well, the kids cheered, they thought this was fun, we were now first.. We beat that other car. I was shaking, that wasn't fun but it had a happy ending. Later in the coffee shop, Jo-Anne's father just said, "If you wanted to be first that bad, I would have let you pass". Everyone laughed.

The first day I drove the school bus, it caught fire. I picked up the children, left the school and right away smoke came out of the place up front where the engine was stored. I put out the small blaze and went to completing the route. I didn't drive very often, but when I did it was a relief to Don to have someone to call, reducing his stress about keeping all of his appointments.

All Great Times Come To An End

Sometimes freak snow storms can come out of nowhere. Just after passing Swift Current, out of nowhere, just like the text book says, a blinding snowstorm hit. Cars were pulled over unable to continue due to the poor visibility. I spent most of my driving years in regions of Canada where blizzards are common... I kept going. Through Medicine Hat, across the bridge on the way to Calgary, I saw something coming at me in my rear view mirror. It was my trailer!. Accelerate! Pull the trailer into line again and keep going. I regained control of the car. Thank goodness there was a 400 horsepower engine under the hood. After the car and trailer had agreement about who was first in line, I pulled over and inspected the wiring. Obviously the trailer brakes failed. The wiring was good, the manual brake lever worked great too, but the hydraulic brake lines were severed. I limped into Calgary and had them repaired right away.

I learned the job quickly. In fact, I solved some problems that were nagging a couple of customers for some time. This statistical and time division multiplexing was a breeze. We rented a small house a few minutes from work and thanks to the company car, we explored the entire city, hitting the roads almost every night. Six months later the company moved us to Winnipeg where I opened their first office in Manitoba. The territory included Thunder Bay to Saskatoon. I managed to see them both and just about every place in between. We lived in a huge house near downtown, Garfield Street, then moved to the Ponds, a housing complex made up of townhouses with different shapes and styles grouped into a compound surrounding a pool. Professional football players liked it there. The place kicker lived below us, a running back and tight end lived over there and a lineman took a place behind the pool.

Work was boring. After everything in town was fixed what then? The company posted a job vacancy for a salesperson in Nova Scotia. I was a techy for most of my life, except for the radio days and the government days. If I applied for the position there would be a major life style change, I would have to learn to approach problems from a solution perspective rather than "get out the screwdriver and tinker". The wage seemed low but there was commission, although it seemed low too. I did the math based on expected sales and I would make about the same as I was now. I applied. They said yes. We moved. Both kids went north again the year previous so there was the three of us, Jo-Anne, me and Dixie, our toy poodle.

The Province of Choice

That first year I achieved greater sales than expected and won an all expense paid trip to Hawaii for a week... I was now part of the President's Club (13th highest sales volume world wide). We were so excited, we packed, we drove to the airport, we boarded the plane, we were jovial and looking forward to the trip and the destination. The plane (yes, another plane story!) taxied to the runway, turned, stopped, then began take off. It was a cloudy day, nothing unusual about the take off, the land was rushing by and we lifted off. Up, up, reaching the clouds we disappeared inside. Bang! A bright flash filled the passenger compartment. People's hair stood on end as if it was trying to reach out somewhere. It seemed like we were in a flourescent tube and someone turned on the light for an instant. The captain said we went through a storm cloud and lightening struck the plane. The bar cart came out immediately and people were calmed with booze. I have never seen the bar cart move down the aisle while the plane was at such an angle.

The next year there was a cruise, I missed it by just that much (picture two fingers close together but not touching). And the third year the trip was to Hong Kong. Even though my sales were sufficient to be included on that trip, I quit. The company hired my direct competitor and put him in head office in a superior position. I never lost a sale to him over the previous years, so his nose was out of joint right from the start. He called me to Ottawa, put me in a closed room and said, "I guess we've seen the end of you here". He started a campaign to make my life miserable from that point on, cutting commission, setting impossible schedules. Cutting the lucrative territory leaving me with a capability of 1/10 of the quota. Crying over spilled milk? No, documenting injustice. He also had a mistress in Halifax and needed to go between her and his family more often. I had a habit of handling everything without upper Canadian influence. We parted company.

A Five Year Do It Yourself Project

I said, "We'll create a display language using character graphics!" Any computer can use that type of program. It took about a week to explain it to him... it was a concept that was difficult to understand. Character graphics, animation, this had not been done before. He went to work writing the code to make the animation and display engine. I wrote the data communications book including character graphics pictures and character graphics animated sequences. He gave me 22 commands to work with, sufficient for our purpose, I learned how to be a super editor by the end of the year. Sixteen chapters and dozens of pictures and animation cycles later, it was ready.

I kept my customer list from that icky company that did dastardly things to my future and started phoning. I sold dozens and dozens of programs, just enough to stay alive. But the customer list was getting shorter after every successful sale. I bought a list of potential customers from a firm in Toronto, 5000 names and addresses, computer type, phone numbers, contact names and more. Jo-Anne spent a week at a data entry terminal and entered every name. Yes, only a week, and, only two errors through the entire volume. Of course, she routinely types 100 - 120 words per minute - no errors, so this was fun for her. (Get a life, Jo-Anne)

I created a couple of scripts so I could speak without hum's and ahhhh's being thrown in. I worked the phones contacting firms in Ontario and had good success. The sales cycle was long because we used a demonstration diskette as a closer, "send it and they will buy", became our motto. More than 33% of called customers bought. I expanded by hiring my daughter, who was living here now, to phone western Canadian cities and earn a decent commission. Her success rate, using the scripts, was very good. Eventually, we ran out of customers to call and needed a new product. I spent the next few months writing a DOS training program, pictures, animation, the same as Data Communications. I sold a bunch of them around Nova Scotia, all the colleges, universities, private schools and larger companies. I sold it too cheap and had trouble with cash flow. We sold a few to Ontario, one prominent college decided to take my program and use it as their training program, except they didn't want to pay me. My lawyer had a few words with them and that was over. I'll bet they still used the unique ideas I had in the programs.

The '90s Started Right Around This Time

Upon returning, I started looking for part time work to supplement the dwindling income. One of the private colleges snapped me up quickly, if I would teach the techy stuff to the full time students. I wrote an advanced Microcomputer program, a bunch of chapters designed to inform system managers the things they should know to be good little computer managers. I taught at the private school, off and on, for a few years, until they got rid of the contract persons in favour of full time staff. I worked in their daily classes for a while but there wasn't any screening of clients and no one was happy with customized training when the administration wouldn't pre-qualify clients. My company and the programs they were selling came to an end. Computers now used a system called Windows and the old style DOS stuff was suitable only for the shelves and to bring back memories of a time that was.

To make a little money one year, I invented an assessment model to pinpoint computer training needs for company personnel. We did about 800 assessments but the management never did follow through with the training. The method I used to assses and report on the needs would have saved these companies thousands of dollars. In the case of 1 large company they could have trimmed their training budget by $80,000 and still received the required training for the coming year. A couple of companies were forward thinking and had their employees trained using my custom method.

I worked for the Department of Education for a year, developing a program to assess and train disabled persons. There was hope for many our of work people, only if a one-to-one ratio was maintained. That does not mean 1 teacher - 1 student. The one-to-one ratio was, 1 training program - 1 student. Each person was treated as an individual and learned at their own pace. We had 16 students, 2 teachers and an open ended intake and outflow. A comprehensive, positive report was written at the end of each student's stay. The councillors had a real direction to follow for each of their clients who went through the program. The 3 owners of the project, however, used to tug at each other until one of them bled. Eventually the program was moved to a different school losing its originality, its expertise and its dedication to seeking a solution for each client.

Another private college hired me for a period of time, but that relationship soured quickly. I can't stand a situation where income comes before the poor bugger who is finally trying to get ahead. Many students who join the ranks of these private colleges, and the public one as well, sometimes muster up a lot of courage to go back to school. They should be given every opportunity by the faculty AND the administration to make the grade. That school said I didn't fit the mold. I think they are not giving enough instruction for the high tuition. We agreed to say goodbye.

For one month I was involved with a company hired to tell the fishermen, fishing was over for a while and maybe computers would be a good thing to learn. I also worked for a school board for a while but their programs were in such a state of flux they couldn't consistently offer courses, or give proper attention to the details needed to maintain a program from beginning to graduation.

For the past 5 years I have been involved, behind the scenes, writing communciations programs for a company that automates most of this province's doctor's billing procedures. The plan is to have the computer in the doctor's office automatically send the billing information to the host (the provincial government) for approval and payment. The database program they are using compiles all of the daily activity then tells my program to get a hold of the government office and pass them the information. The latest release by the government has been a real fiasco with the host being red faced many times in the past year. They have forgotten, or choose to ignore, the need to adhere to world wide standards of file transfer, the need to maintain a high quality database, and the need to inform the people writing the programs necessary to complete the doctor's end of things. Add that to a more complicated communication system, a greatly expanded interaction between doctor and billing procedure and a non-indexed database and you have.... well, porridge. And where does porridge begin and end? No one knows, we just keep eating it.

As well, I am the systems analyst and programmer for a manufacturing company, looking after the little robots that make a product. Friendly little guys that came from upper Canada and should have been sent back reprogrammed to take a bite out of the inventor's leg. They are probably responsible for the lack of folical coverage at the upper most peek of my body. And... there is the Community College, Truro Campus, my employer, the people who give me money to do stuff at the school... no, not this page, this was done on my own time... but, stuff, not Pepsi stuff, but stuff like teach in a classroom, solve computer problems, attend meetings, work with townsfolk for the betterment of the computer community, study, research, and lobby for more and better stuff. It is a wonderful campus, wonderful people, wonderful staff, wonderful faculty, wonderful students, wonderful equipment, wonderful cafeteria, wonderful pool, wonderful, parking, wonderful offices,wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, .