In January of 1996 I was in the "job from Hell", my marriage was a rut that I happened to be in, and truthfully I didn't know that I should expect anything better.
Working as a foreman for a glass contractor in California, I wasn't given the manpower to satisfy the wishes of the general contractor, nor could I investigate and propose solutions for the myriad problems that occurred on the jobsite, a $110 million renovation project. I was the ENTIRE crew (yep, just me) for about three months, much too long!
I received a phone call on Dec. 27th, 1995 that really ticked me off. I had ordered 12 custom-made plates from our fabrication department in July, followed up in September, and this particular phone call was from their (my employer's) fabrication shop saying "I need more information on those 12 aluminum plates you ordered." My thoughts were "You haven't even started them yet?" That was a major turning point, I was mad. I dislike ultimatums but now it seemed one was necessary if anything was going to change.
With three legal-size pages of items which were problems or areas needing action and still alone at the jobsite, I proposed to my boss that I "get some help within two weeks AT the jobsite or he could find my replacement, but I wouldn't be there to help in a transition. Their replacement for me would have to start from scratch.
That's the background on the "job from Hell". Maybe you've been in similar circumstances - I hope you aren't now!
My marriage (or maybe I should say, my difficulties in marriage) were much less hellish. Rather than being a continuous hellish "grab bag" like my job, it was a mix. There were good times and not-so-good times. My wife and I had dissimilar ideas on family life and parenting. We probably should have never been married, but that was a decision we made 23 years previously based on much less experience and our needs at that time.
Its importance in this tale is that my marriage was "stressing" me rather than "destressing" (we had already been discussing separation/divorce). This set the stage perfectly for Wally's entrance.
[Note: Six month of my dismal living equates to about one minute of your reading about it. I hope you survived! The story lightens up shortly.]
In mid-January of 1996 on a Monday morning, five workers joined me UNEXPECTEDLY at the jobsite. Now my crew was six, much preferable to just myself but initially overwhelming. Now I was overflowing with manpower and to maximize my efforts at bringing everybody up to date, I took all five to the first work area, explained in 15 minutes or so what was needed, where the materials were, what quality was expected, left one of them to do the work and took four to the next work area and started the procedure again for that area.
The last un-delegated worker turned out to be Wally. It appeared that he had absorbed the essentials of what had been discussed and could handle more (a good sign) so we targeted the blueprints for an overview of the entire jobsite. Wally stopped me before we got there and said "Carl, before we get into the prints I need to tell you something."
In view of the circumstances, I was more than willing to accept input. When I asked what he had in mind, he replied "You aren't laughing enough. You need to laugh at least 20 times a day to stay healthy."
Frankly, I didn't think we had time to discuss it, but we spent maybe half a minute on it. This revelation occurred at about 9am and as our day unfolded, Wally and I browsed through the blueprints, looked at different jobsite problems together and all told, he played comedian enough to get me to laugh 15 times before noon. He and another coworker who was carpooling with him had to leave at lunchtime to visit another jobsite and finish things there, but early the next morning Wally came over to me just to check.
Wally, grinning but serious too: "Good morning, Carl. Well, how many times did you laugh yesterday?"
Carl (deliberately neutral expression): "Well, we had 15 by the time you left, right?"
Wally: "Right"
Carl: "And you want to know from 9am yesterday through now?"
Wally: "Right, how many?"
Carl: "15"
Wally (incredulously): "You didn't laugh once after I left? None at home?"
After I confirmed that I hadn't, Wally started entertaining again. His schedule was nearly the same as the day before, so right before lunch he checked with me to see how I was doing. I had laughed 11 times, but only because Wally was forcing it.
Wednesday morning Wally checked on me again, same line of questioning, same results - zero laughs unless Wally was making the effort to get it out of me.
Thursday was much the same until just before lunch. I was walking past the foreman of another crew who was nearly as stressed as I was, and I said something funny, which I totally forget now. Hearing him laugh made ME feel good and I laughed with him. Following that was another laugh for both of us and IT FELT GREAT!
Things were never as glum as they had been again, and with practice things actually turned rosy. Two months later I QUIT the job from Hell (ahhhhh!!...) but I've kept in touch with Wally.
....(time passes)....
Months later my internet friend Trishia from British Columbia visited San Francisco with me taking a little time off work to be her tour guide. She was able to wet her toes in the Pacific Ocean for the first time ever and was thrilled with the warm weather and my convertible.
Her last evening there, we ate dinner at a local restaurant and were seated by a superlatively GLUM young man, zero enthusiasm.
Some moments later as Trishia and I were talking, he walked nearby and I asked if he had something I could write a note on. When he answered no, but he would get me something, I asked him to save some steps but write a note to himself, just the number "20" and if he wanted to know the meaning, he'd need to ask me.
I'll admit I was setting him up but it had a bigger effect on my dinner companion. Most of you don't know Trishia (a guess) but have you ever seen what curiosity does to a woman? She instantly wanted to know what it was about!
I decided to have fun with her too. With a grin, I set my limits. "Well, tell you what. If he asks, you'll find out then, right?"
She laughed, sputtered her pretended indignation, and we chatted about many things for 20 minutes, then 30 and he hadn't reappeared, not anywhere in the dining room. Trishia then stated that she hoped I hadn't scared him away with my cryptic message, and we started comparing notes on what he MIGHT possibly have been scared of.
The most bizarre was my suggestion that maybe he owed "20" THOUSAND dollars to a drug lord and he thought I was there to collect or do bodily damage to him! We had no clues, but we had some great laughs with the huge number of possibilities.
Trishia finally asked a waittress if he was still there and yes he was according to the waittress - he had missed an earlier break and was just finishing taking two back to back. We told her about the cryptic number and she said he had been talking about it with other staff, but hadn't a clue what it meant.
I shared quickly the story of the job from Hell, Wally's contribution to my sanity, and that 20 was the number of laughs that this young guy needed, according to Wally and myself anyway. She laughed at the drug lord idea and a few other possibilities Trishia and I came up with. The waittress agreed that, yes, this guy could use some laughter in his personality and the three of us decided that she would approach him, tell him that she knew what 20 meant, but that he would still have to ask me.
Some things you just have to give a woman credit for!!... he was at our table within a minute and wanted to know what 20 meant, told us that the waittress had been over and teased him about it and now he had to know! He wasn't laughing about it though, he was fairly intense.
Trishia kept her face neutral while I retold my story (thanks, Trishia), adding that he reminded me of myself earlier in the year but then I had learned what "20" meant and why it was important. He paid attention to the "Job from Hell" story, then heard about Wally and how hopeless my case was in the beginning, and how things had changed. His expression gradually registered more interest through the stories and when I reached the point in time when he reminded me of myself, Trishia took over the telling.
She told about how we had approached the waittress (what else could we do, right?) and how Trishia was worried about him, and started telling him some of the ridiculous thoughts we had had. The first was about the drug money; the young man laughed at that, and Trishia and I both held up one finger and said "One!"
Our timing was so unrehearsed but perfect that Trishia and I were both shocked and the young guy laughed at our expressions. Trishia and I were joined instantly by him in raising fingers and counting "Two!" Within moments we went past five, found out he was a college student who was soon going to be returning to school in Massachusetts, and enrolled him in our efforts to share the meaning of "20" with the world.
Maybe you folks out there will, too. ,)
Wally? Thanks!
Trishia? Have a great day, week, month, year and much much more up there
in Canada. Love ya both!
You folks out there in cyberspace? HAVE A GREAT ONE!
Signed, Carl