"THE BOB MOMENT”
03/04/2019
It was a very quiet ride home from Grand Rapids MI over the weekend back to Lancaster PA. Unfortunately it was just a little "too quiet". I'm already convinced that my Super company way out in MI has the remote control to my radio that I need to stay awake for my ride home. I'm very upset that once I get close to York I can't tune into 101.5 Bob Rocks. It's been on my "to do" list to join the Bob nation as I am very much intrigued just how many "Bobs" there really are out there. Here are some just to name a few.
Fancy Bob, Clever Bob, Furious Bob, Jumpy Bob, Grumpy Bob, Punctual Bob, Lazy Bob, Disgruntled Bob, and Sexy Bob just to name a few. It's good to know that the "Bob" name is in fact a palindrome so nobody can misspell your name. The tattoo artist might even charge less for your wife's tattoo when she falls in love with you. But the greatest part about joining the "Bob Nation" as a trucker?
THE TIME YOU SAVE BY SIGNING ALL THE BILLS AS TIME IS MONEY AND MONEY IS TIME. B-O-B (Bring Only Bob)
Because my company issued me a brand new tractor over the weekend with only 413 miles on it they gave me off this glorious Monday afternoon to compensate for getting me home late over the weekend. It's nice to be holding down the fort all to myself as all my ear hustling neighbors are obviously at work. I can't help but wonder if Mr. Paul knows I'm still thoroughly enjoying sitting back in this lawn chair that I purchased in Delaware after that win on a Phillies bet. I clearly remember trying to indemnify myself that hot day in July when I became impatient by assuming the Phillies would lose that day and tried to get my gas money back at the roulette table only to lose a few hundred instead.
As I hold the fort down while everyone is at work the only noise to be heard is the soft thrum of the space heater warming up my "Medical Brace" much needed for the pain I'm feeling in my third leg. I giggled at all the comical reviews I read prior to purchasing my "Medical Brace" but as I ease back in my Phillies chair the time is slipping away and I'm not realizing that the space heater is melting away the "Medical Skin Cream" at an alarming speed causing lubricant to drip into the gears which could subsequently give me absolutely no control of the speed in which my "Medical Brace" functions.
Eventually I muster up the strength to ease myself up from my Phillies chair and turn off the space heater before the lubricant can melt away from my medical brace and drip all over the floor. I get back into my Phillies chair and start ruminating about things from the past. I'm mostly curious about Mr. Paul. What would he be doing behind his desk on a boring Monday afternoon like this? Most likely he gets the entire lunch hour instead of the 30 minute break like the rest of us so I'm guessing he's taking his sweet old time with that triple decker cheeseburger from Wendy's. I've always wondered what it feels like to not have to eat a sandwich in just two minutes. To actually taste a sand which. To actually eat it without interruptions and what it would feel like as it digests in the stomach?
My medical brace begins to iron away unnecessary clumps and knots that shouldn't have developed in my third leg at such an early age of just 22. I know that tomorrow is a big day for me because as I lay back and relax in this lawn chair Spencer is on the horn with the UC Board of reviews inquiring a decision from my 1/31/2019 Remand Hearing that I should have received by Valentines Day. If they reach a bad decision I'm not even sure how enthused I'm going to be at picking up tomorrow's loads as I'm back to paying nearly a thousand in taxes each month only to find myself paying the mortgage payments of the witches that steal from my stockpile while roosting happily in Harrisburg.
As I ponder away the hot slippery oil drips slowly into the mechanical gears causing the "Medical Brace" to malfunction forcing those "medical beads" to flicker faster than a hummingbird's wings.
"Whoa! Whoa!" I shout out loud as I my body contracts at the alarming speed forcing each and everyone of my toes to curl back embracing for some impromptu toe curling sessions that I never saw coming!
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three ke-pows all simultaneously and all at once!
The arm pole of my Phillies chair snaps and my body slings back like a catapulting rocket as the chair breaks causing the back of the chair to slam onto the floor as the BACK OF MY HEAD slams into metal Frame work of the chair. I wanted to catch my head in time but I guess you could say that would mean sacrificing a hot juicy sandwich that I simply couldn't risk falling onto a dirty floor.
20 MINUTES OF BLACK OUT
(THE LAST SURREAL DREAM)
I get back to my apartment in Reamstown PA and it's very late at night. It's hard to believe that just the night before I actually had a Bridget Jones wanna be lying in my bed next to me. I'm still curious about what she meant by "This isn't gonna work" but I'm not sharing that with my coworkers at the textile mill as I'm quite certain some of them just might find her comment quite funny. I don't own a cellphone but they are slowly but surely starting to become popular. It's 1am and my landline phone starts abruptly ringing at this lonely hour of the night.
Really? Is it acceptable to get phone calls at 1am? Right smack dab in the middle of "Blake Time"?
The phone continued to ring but I realize my chances of getting to the phone in time are slim to none. I know that if it rings one more time the answering machine will pick up and I'll know who has the audacity to call me at this hour of the night.
Actually because I specialize in deducing I ALREADY KNOW who's calling me as there is still in fact forty five minutes left before the Reamstown AA announces last call at the bar.
Because I work the 3pm to 1am shift at the mill I know it's most likely going to be my coworker the one and only funny man Mr. Jason B. Long haired 160 pound wise guy always cracking jokes in front of the old ladies about the meatheads spending excessive time at the gym. Little Jason B. so brazenly flexing his muscles in front of all those old ladies at the sewing factory imitating the muscle bound meatheads. "Oooh look at me and all my muscles but I can't have SEX!"
His imitation was in fact entertaining and we all laughed. Now I was sitting alone in my bed waiting for the answering machine to pick up already knowing who's most likely calling. It's not Bridget calling. It's funny man Jason B. He's leaving a voice message knowing full damn well that I'm home and he's giggling hysterically while leaving his voice message knowing that I'm at home in my hut listening to what he has to say.
He can't stop giggling. There's still forty five minutes left until last call and after the Eagles Super Bowl loss nobody in their right mind is going to be going to work the next day anyways.
"Blake! I know you're there Blake!" (More giggles ensue) Followed by yet even more giggles.
"Blake! Put it away and pick up the PHONE!"
I couldn't help but find myself too giggling hysterically. Always another funny man trying to out funny me with cute little quips during our last ten minutes waiting in line at the time clock.
Where does funny man Jason B. Come up with these funnies? As I hit the volume button on the remote to turn the volume back up I found myself making a mental note to Jason B.'s funny little voice mail. I was going to use that funny little quote when the time is right some day. I was going to use that funny little quote and I was quite certain I WAS GOING TO GET AWAY WITH IT.
WAKING UP (Approx 20 minutes later)
By the time I regained conscience I found myself looking ready to audition for the next tv episode of "Naked And Afraid". There was a mess everywhere but once I pieced everything together what had happened I couldn't help but find myself giggling over and over. In fact, with all three explosions happening at the same time I couldn't help but find myself giggling all week long. My head had slammed right into that sweet spot where they pistol whip ya in the movies. I was experiencing short term memory loss that entire week. I accidentally locked myself out of my hut twice that week, Forgot my phone on numerous occasions, and was finding myself within a hairsbreadth of forgetting to put clothes on before walking out the door.
03/04/2019
(Same Day Later That Evening)
I'm getting flashbacks as I scrutinize google maps for tomorrow's morning load pickup realizing it is just a few miles from Hickory International dealership just north east of Baltimore. I'm getting my errands done so that I am ready to show off my brand new truck and pickup tomorrow's load.
Because of the cold weather I wait until the very last minute to put gas in my car as I'm getting lazy over the years and now wait until the fuel warning light comes on. I realize I'm literally running on fumes at this point so I stroll down to the nearest gas station down the street. I pull up to the pump and realize I am on the wrong side of the pump. I have driven two rental cars in the last couple of weeks and I don't realize that my brain is still fooled into believing I'm driving one of those rental cars where the tank is on the drivers side whereas my personal vehicle is on the passenger side.
When I finally make the correction I am distracted by a hot chicky momma on the other side of the pump getting fuel. I'm in a big hurry to push the little fuel cap opener button below my foot so I can jump out of the car and fuel with her before she screws the cap on and drives away. Oh she's a hottie alright and I'm not losing out on this chance to show off my big beautiful brain!
I grope around behind my left foot looking for the stupid button over and over but there's a big problem. IT'S NOT THERE!!!!
The chicky momma finishes fueling and slinks away into the night and now I'm royally pissed that I'm forced to fuel alone. Forced to fuel alone in the cold with an entire twelve gallon tank to fill up.
So where the hell is the fuel cap opening button?
I grope around a little more at the spot it should be until I find the tips of my little fingers rubbing against some tiny wires as I piece together what has happened.
SOMEBODY HAS REMOVED MY FUEL CAP BUTTON! IT'S ANOTHER HIT FROM THE PEEK-A-BOOS! HOW AM I TO FUEL MY CAR WITHOUT TAKING A CROW BAR AND BREAKING MY FUEL CAP LID?
I whip out my cellphone to call Spencer to report the vandalism to my personal vehicle. Months ago I'm quite certain somebody purposely broke into my car and super tightly sealed shut the twisty cap on a diet coke bottle I had full of water. I knew that cops often wear gloves so that would explain why the bottle had been so tightly twisted shut that even a rubber jar opener wouldn't work to twist open the lid.
Spencer answered the phone rather quickly like usual. I can never figure him out. Emails and texts he gets to when he gets to it but he's quite serious about old school telephone calls and has a history of giving his utmost attention during live phone calls.
"Spencer"
"Uh hey it's Blake." (I have to keep remembering to be Blake when I call. Spencer insists on calling me by my birth name Blake. Bob never seems to exists to him so of course I'm keeping the "Bob Moment" to myself)
"Hey Blake what's going on?"
I'm still in panicky mode. "My car must have been vandalized while I was away over the road last week and now I can't get fuel!!!!"
Spencer was utterly confused. I have a bad habit of assuming that lawyers know everything. I'm not always good at explaining the here and now because my paranoia is so bad I'm constantly assuming my every move is already being watched by the Peek-A-Boos so Lawyers, Cops, Judges, etc. know more about myself than I do.
"Blake I don't understand. How much money do you think you will need for gas?"
My racing thoughts were interspersing in EVERY direction. I couldn't understand why Spencer didn't know what I was talking about.
I was getting fussy. "No I'm not asking for money! I probably have more money than you do. I'm sitting here at a gas station with the yellow light on and can't get gas cuz somebody must have over the week broke into my car again and yanked out the gas cap button! This shit is driving me insane! Home invasions over the summer, car break ins, this ain't criminal thugs playing these reindeer games or valuables would come up missing!"
Spencer was totally completely lost. Like way completely lost. He tried to see the upside to all this.
"Blake I see you still have your sense of humor at least."
But I was still taken aback and my hypertension was flaring up.
"So what do you think I should do? I set up cameras and the techy ninjas find creative ways to thwart them and I can't sit in that chair forever to guard my stuff!"
I thought I may have heard some chomping sounds in the background as I had completely forgotten that he was in a different time zone and it may be his lunch hour. Evidently he had big enough hands to be able to hold onto a sand which with just one hand while he held the phone in the other.
"Well, I dunno Blake. Maybe it's just time for you to start thinking about maybe walking a new circle."
I was still flummoxed. "You mean like dogs do? Don't they usually walk around in a circle before they sit down?"
I heard a slight chuckle. "Yup that sense of humor is still there."
After our phone conversation I took a picture of where I believed my fuel cap button to have previously been and submitted the image via text to Spencer. It got a one word text reply. "Shame".
I obviously couldn't gas my car that night unless I wanted to vandalize my own car by breaking the sucker open with a crow bar. My nerves were so fired up I figured maybe the next morning I could concoct a Mygyver plan in daylight so that I could get much needed gas.
6 HOURS LATER (12:42 AM) (Now 03/05/2019)
I'm still tossing and turning and I know my blood pressure is probably the highest it's ever been. The August 19th Brandywine Hospital car break in. Followed by the August 25th home invasion where the Peek-A-Boos steal receipts I need to nail Mr. Paul. And now this? This calls for a full fledged investigation. These Billy Big Rigging jobs are aplenty. The industry is described as "Starving" and I know this job can wait. I'm so fired up right now and losing sleep. I know that according to DOT regulations it is illegal to operate a commercial vehicle with an exacerbated mind. I realize if I ÜBER out to the truck in the morning for work I'll be literally illegal by running on zero sleep. At 12:42 I send my company the following text.
"I greatly apologize but both my apartment and personal vehicle continue to be vandalized while I am away during the week. This makes no sense to me as I don't associate with anyone to have enemies. I need to take a personal emergency leave ASAP and piece this mystery together. It shouldn't take me long to clean the truck out tomorrow. I won't be able to pickup tomorrow. Once again I greatly apologize this has nothing to do with Super Service but I can't let this issue continue."
03/05/2019 (Two Days Before I Turn 38)
I finally roll away from my air mattress and all I see is "WTF" bubble clouds like everywhere. It looks like a scene from a Beavis and Butthead movie and what the heck happened to my chair I won on a Phillies bet? Somebody broke my chair! It's breakfast time and I'm too fat to eat my breakfast on the corner of my air mattress as I know it will pop and now I don't have so much as a chair to eat my breakfast on? Did somebody have a wild party here last night? Why is my medical brace still lying and dripping on the floor?
03/05/2019 09:30am (THE "OH SHIT" MOMENT REPLACES THE "BOB" MOMENT)
I'm done poking around underneath my drivers seat looking for the stupid button. All amateurs I secretly tell myself as I'm getting ready to file a police report. A real professional would have left the plastic fuel cap button under the seat so I could assume the possibility I may have inadvertently kicked the button loose on my own with my foot. But why would they go as far as to steal it?
Eventually I give up any Mcgyver ideas I might have and decide it is time to examine the fuel cap lid myself and decide how much damage it will leave my car by prying it open. I realize my morning load is obviously not going to get picked up this morning as this butt crack of dawn has passed and the sun is now shining it's deadly RAYS upon us causing me to sneeze one after the other as the Sunshine tickles me nose.
The moment I recognize the little nipple on the fuel cap lid I feel my sanity return as I encounter this "Oh Shit" moment. MY CAR NEVER HAD AN ELECTRICAL FUEL CAP LID IN THE FIRST PLACE! It opens manually!!!
03/05/2019 09:42
I realize I should probably let them know I had innocently lost my mind the day before when I tried to fuel. At 09:42 I sent my boss the following text. I'm now realizing at this point he is probably pissed off that there's no way the load can be picked up now. I sure have a lot of explaining to do without going into too much detail concerning the "Bob moment".
I send the following outgoing text to my boss at 09:42 "Shit. Glad I wasn't quick to file a police report. It was the rental car you guys had me drive that marred my mind. It opens manually. No open cap button was ever there in the first place."
09:45am incoming text from a very confused boss.
"So the rental car you had was damaged?? Was that noted by the rental agency when you returned it in case we see some extra charges?"
I thought to myself. Where is he going with this? Did I say a rental car got damaged? Does he not know I'm talking about my personal car?
03/11/2019 (Monday Morning)
(A Trip To The Emergency Room)
It's all I can do to roll out of the fart sack this morning. I roll off the air mattress and onto the floor then back onto my big bubbled air mattress. I realize that the air bubble is probably because I'm getting too fat. I roll off the air mattress one more time and use all of my strength to climb into my brand new lawn chair that I pretend is a lazy boy. It's hard to believe I've been out of work all week. I have a new lawn chair that my mother gave me for my birthday that looks very similar to the one I won on a phillies bet. Something is terribly wrong with me today and I know it. I shouldn't be feeling this weak so I opt to take my blood pressure. 213/129. Holy crap. No wonder I feel on the verge of passing out. Looks like it's time to call my new Primary Care Physician and see what they say.
I call the doctor on my cellphone. "Hello?"
"Yes I'd like to set up a doctor's appointment." "Concerning?"
"My blood pressure is acting up and I hit my head last week so my head has been hurting."
"Are you able to take your blood pressure?"
"Yes. I have my own blood pressure machine I bought over the summer."
"Can you take it right now for me?" "Sure."
I cuff up my sleeve. *Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz*......pssssssssstttttt *
"It's now 205/123.
"Oh my. You need to get to the emergency room." "I'm so light headed I don't even feel I can drive." "You should probably call for an ambulance then."
I suddenly think of UBER. I'm not all bloody or in need of a stretcher so why let a $750 ambulance bill ensue?
03/11/2019 EMERGENCY WAITING ROOM (Seeing The Real Laura)
So far they only took my blood pressure but I am still waiting to see the doctor. They slapped the wristband on me but I have already chewed it off. I first got here at noon and it's now the dinner hour. I refuse to play into their little waiting games. I feel in fact that THE DOCTOR should be waiting on ME. Just thirty minutes ago I left the hospital to go get dinner so I'm trying this waiting thing one more time. I've been giggling to myself literally all week long because I know eventually the doctors will get curious as to how my chair broke that Monday afternoon just a week ago causing my short term memory loss for the week. How am I gonna possibly sell that story? Was sitting back in my lawn chair when suddenly there was three explosions all at once? And when I finally came to I looked ready to audition for the Naked And Afraid episode on television?
As I sat in the ER waiting room I tried ever so desperately to keep my giggly thoughts to myself. I seemed to be getting hysteria giggly fits of uncontrollable laughter one after another. And I knew I'd have to step outside again just to regain my composure.
I felt so naked sitting in the ER waiting room without my ball cap. I'm not used to having my full head exposed to the public but at least I'm not bald so I think I'll do okay. There is of course other people in the waiting room so every few minutes I find my gaze shifting around towards the other people sitting on the chairs. I'm starting to feel that weird feeling again like I'm being watched. That's because I am being watched. My brain hasn't processed it just yet of just who it is but it appears to be a former classmate of mine from my creative writing class in High School ,Laura. Laura is making me uncomfortable by monitoring my thoughts.
I shift my gaze away and focus it back to the tv on the wall. Who is this red haired girl staring at me? Why is she looking at me like that like something here is incredibly funny?
I shift my gaze towards her in a furtive like manner just one more time hoping that she can find the tv on the wall more entertaining than my hysteria of unruly giggle fits.
The dimple crawls onto her face as if she's staring at the flim flam man himself. It's almost as if she has some sort of telepathetic Superwoman skills to monitor my thoughts and she's highly entertained. But she should know of course I too can hear her thoughts loud and clear.
Is that Bob? I thought his name was Blake? Didn't he tell our Creative writing class that he was Schizophrenic? Is this like his side gig? Is Mr. Steidler really sitting over there doing some leg work to lock it in for that nut check? Should I be taking some notes from him in case I might need a nut check as well?
I could still hear Spencer's words of wisdom from when I called him that evening on 03/04 because I thought I couldn't get fuel because I thought my car had been vandalized. I dunno Blake. Maybe you ought to think about walking a new circle.
I'm not 100% certain that the girl staring at me was Laura from my Creative writing class but in the event that it was it surely puts a nice touch to my epilogue as the witches working at the UC board in Harrisburg evidently are hellbent in not allowing me to have an epilogue for my Indemnify book I started writing last year when I filed my claim in mid July 2018. According to Spencer's book I will lose if I try an additional claim for my current 2019 "Bob Moment" so I'm glad I didn't waste my time posting them an indelible online UC claim little paragraph for them to giggle at. I'm already very frustrated by them being months late on my January Remand hearing decision and the stockpile of owed wages would really make a nice down payment for a big house. I'm being punished just for being a safe driver?
03/11/2019 11:30pm
(Checking In On Myself)
The ER waiting room always has a girl working the front desk when you come in. I realize that 11 hours has passed and it's time to improve my IMDB writing credits. It's time to check in on myself. I'm gonna play a little funny with this shift change.
I slip on through the front doors of the ER room and accost the girl at the front desk. She definitely appears to be in her twenties. She doesn't know me and I don't know her. I have no intentions of telling her who I am.
"Oh hi. I'm here to visit Blake." "Okay."
I continue. "Do you know what room he is in?"
The girl at the desk starts to type around on the front desk computer trying to look up information on Blake. I'm glad I've mauled off my hospital bracelet so she doesn't figure out I'm pranking her.
"You know I don't see him listed in a room."
"Oh. That's right I forgot. Nobody calls him Blake anymore he goes by Bob."
The girl at the desk now looks confused but still willing to help find Blake who goes by "Bob".
"Oh wait." She says. "It looks like a Blake Steidler did in fact check in. But hold on. Nobody seems to know what room he is in."
"Ah it's no biggie. I'll just sit down over here and give him a call and hope that he answers. I had heard that he checked in around noon."
I walk into the ER waiting room and whip out my cellphone to call and locate Blake. This is going to be a very long evening. And I dare say a very, VERY LONG night.