Rosary and Penance - https://www.freemathhelp.com/forum/threads/114104-what-is-happen

[Steven G]

He started in the mail room and worked his way up (i.e., on-the-job training) -- using one of these.

View attachment 10887

But who would even hire Denis the Menace to work in the mail room? He's the type of person who hangs out on the street corner all the time selling drugs. I bet that was what he meant by he worked in the business field. Crack was quite popular when Denis was a bit younger.

 

[Denis]

He started in the mail room and worked his way up (i.e., on-the-job training) -- using one of these.
View attachment 10887

Well....quite close!!!
I worked for only 1 employer: 40 years, Nov.1/1961 to Oct.31/2001.
Notice the EXACT 40 years: on purpose; wanted to be 1st employee
to reach 40 years!!
Hired as "interest calculator", ended up as Financial Analyst.

Ain't tellin' ya'll the things I did/initiated: it'll sound like BSing!

 

[Steven G]

Well....quite close!!!
I worked for only 1 employer: 40 years, Nov.1/1961 to Oct.31/2001.
Notice the EXACT 40 years: on purpose; wanted to be 1st employee
to reach 40 years!!
Hired as "interest calculator", ended up as Financial Analyst.

Ain't tellin' ya'll the things I did/initiated: it'll sound like BSing!

Where/how did you learn your math?

 

[Otis]

… [Denis is] the type of person who hangs out on the street corner all the time selling drugs … Crack was quite popular when Denis was a bit younger.

Jomo, you're turning to the Dark Side! Please, come back to the light. :neutral:

 

[Otis]

… Ain't tellin' ya'll the things I did/initiated: it'll sound like BSing!

I know what you mean.

Every time I try to converse about my experiences in emergency medicine, the guys at the bar think I'm full of sheet.

Example: As a last ditch effort to restart a heart, trauma doctors will crack open the victim's chest and place electrodes directly onto the myocardium. But the left lung is in the way, so somebody has to hold it. As the physician assistant on duty, that task was my job. I think it's an interesting piece of conversation, but the guys rolled their eyes, or said "WHATever", or simply walked away.

They never believe me.

---

I like hearing about other peoples' work, and the leaps and bounds they accomplished. (I know that I've bragged before, at least once, in this forum. Plus, I don't think you're the kind of person who makes up stuff.) So, I'm interested in the things you did or initiated; if you think something is interesting, then so do I.

If you don't want to post it, send me a PM! We can talk about the good 'ol days.

 

[Steven G]

If you don't want to post it, send me a PM! We can talk about the good 'ol days.

Otis, I truly do not think that you want to know about Denis' good 'ol days. Now that is dark!

 

[Steven G]

Jomo, you're turning to the Dark Side! Please, come back to the light. :neutral:

But the light at the end of the tunnel has been shut off due to budget cuts. But I will try.

I leave tomorrow for the JMM conference and I hope to come back more mathematically energized.

BTW, I talk about Denis and the street corner because he is always in the corner (as in street corner)

Thanks for noticing and caring.

 

[topsquark]

I know what you mean.

Every time I try to converse about my experiences in emergency medicine, the guys at the bar think I'm full of sheet.

Example: As a last ditch effort to restart a heart, trauma doctors will crack open the victim's chest and place electrodes directly onto the myocardium. But the left lung is in the way, so somebody has to hold it. As the physician assistant on duty, that task was my job. I think it's an interesting piece of conversation, but the guys rolled their eyes, or said "WHATever", or simply walked away.

They never believe me.

---

I like hearing about other peoples' work, and the leaps and bounds they accomplished. (I know that I've bragged before, at least once, in this forum. Plus, I don't think you're the kind of person who makes up stuff.) So, I'm interested in the things you did or initiated; if you think something is interesting, then so do I.

If you don't want to post it, send me a PM! We can talk about the good 'ol days.

My Dad used to work in the ER when he was putting himself through College. He wasn't in the medical field but they put him to work doing minor things (and as he learned a few things a couple of Nurse Assistant kind of things as well.) He tells me when the ER would send him to the incinerator with all the icky biological things they removed from some poor soul he would take the shortcut through the Cafeteria. Hey, they diners didn't know what was in the bag!

-Dan

 

[Otis]

… diners didn't know what was in the bag!

Your dad probably had the urge to let the cat out of the bag, to someone at least once, heh. Today, biohazard bags are bright red and clearly marked, so one couldn't take that shortcut.

When I took bodies to the morgue, the ER elevator was sometimes tied up for pending surgery transport, so I'd have use one of the public elevators. Wheeling a gurney with an extra-large sheet draped over the handrails into an elevator with other people and … yeah, they knew what was goin' down.

Guy: "Is that what I think it is?"

Me (with the slightest of grins): "Probably."

On another occassion, the elevator carried some pretty girls. As I pushed in the gurney, I said, "Please pardon us." :cool:

By the way, the morgue was in the sub-basement. I never saw anyone down there. Access was down a block-long, old brick tunnel with dim light bulbs. (I'm a little embarrassed to admit that a couple times I looked over my shoulder.)

When the medical center needed to install more coolers in the morgue, they couldn't expand the room, so they stacked 'em (three high). This required installing a steel I-beam with a rolling, electric winch and chains. I'd use a ladder to pull out the top tray, wrap chains under the knees and shoulder blades, lift the body high enough, slowly roll the winch along the I-beam (lest we start rockin' and rollin'), and then lower it onto the tray.

One of the trays was occupied by the same crime victim for several months because the medical examiner had issues identifying it. I couldn't help myself; I wanted to see what it looked like, so I unzipped the bag a little bit, to take a peek.

The guys at the bar didn't believe any of this, either, so I don't even bother, anymore.

 

[Denis]

STOP THAT COUGHIN'
=================
Mr. Cohen duly signed an affidavit stating that this story is true. The
number of that affidavit is 89-127. It is available for your perusal at
city hall, records department, legal documents division, affidavits
section. It is the 127th affidavit in an aluminum drawer labelled "89".

Searches for affidavits in aluminum drawers are simplified thanks to
labelled dividers inserted after every 100th affidavit. Mr. Cohen's
affidavit you will find in the section following the divider labelled
"100 to 199".

An affidavit is a sworn statement in writing. And made under oath before
an authorized magistrate or justice of the peace. It is meant to be
understood by lawyers only. It contains intelligent stuff like "In
Witness Thereof" or "The Aforementioned".

If you sign a "sworn" affidavit, you have to put your right hand on top
of the Bible and act serious, dignified and honest.

Perry Mason always seemed to need half a dozen or so affidavits, along
with the odd "Habeas Corpus". He would often hit a button connecting him
to his secretary, Della Street, and yell at her something like "hey Della,
get that guy to sign a sworn affidavit", or "hey Della, get the judge to
issue an Habeas Corpus".

You knew it was Perry Mason because there was a name-plate on the lawyer's
desk. It said: Perry Mason, Attorney-At-Law.

I will now witness thereof that the aforementioned Mr. Cohen is the owner
of Cohen's drugstore. The town in which this story takes place contains a
steep hill, on Main street. Mr. Cohen's drugstore is also situated on Main
street, and is half-way down the steep hill. It is very easy to tell it is
Mr. Cohen's drugstore because there's a sign above the entrance that says:
Cohen's Drugstore.

James F. Grant's funeral service is being held in a church situated on top
of the steep hill. It is named "The Church of the Seventy-Second Parable".
The distinguished Reverend is complimenting James with the proper words,
while Mrs. Grant dabs appropriately at her eyes, with absorbing tissue
from a packet in her purse. It is a pink economy size packet of Kleenex.

Examples of proper words by distinguished Reverends at funeral services are
"he was a pillar of the community" and "he will surely encounter eternal
happiness in the life beyond". Such proper words by distinguished Reverends
strategically terminate with "and he will always be remembered for his
utmost generosity". At this point, distinguished church regulars wearing
white gloves come out carrying special baskets to collect one's donation.
The size of the smile one gets is proportionally related to the size of
one's donation.

Mr. Cohen is not attending James' funeral. As you will see shortly, this
story requires that Mr. Cohen be in his drugstore. Mr. Cohen is presently
standing behind his counter, ticking off a delivery slip for Buckley's
cough syrup, and massaging his left arm. Mr. Cohen opened for business a
few minutes ago, when he hung up a special sign. The sign says: come in,
we're open.

Mr. Cohen's left arm is very tired. This is because Mrs. Cohen weighs
over 300 pounds and goes to bed an hour before Mr. Cohen, coming to rest
on the right side of the bed. Mrs. Cohen's weight causes the left side of
the mattress to rise 22 inches. Unfortunately for poor Mr. Cohen, this
results in the sleeping surface ending up at a 34 degrees slope.

When Mr. Cohen arrives an hour later, he carefully lies down on his
stomach and hooks his left arm around the risen left side of the mattress.
Mr. Cohen does this in order not to roll due to the 34 degree incline,
and end up disturbing Mrs. Cohen. When jolted during her sleep, Mrs. Cohen
reacts with a rapid roll to the left which would spell disaster on poor
Mr. Cohen. Next, to offset high frequencies originating from Mrs. Cohen's
nostrils, Mr. Cohen, using his right hand, slips on his ear phones and,
hanging on tight, prays for sleep.

James' funeral service is now over. His coffin is now being rolled out
using a special coffin carrier on little wheels. At this point, please be
advised that coming up next is the conclusion of this story and that events
will from now on unfold rapidly.

I am now "setting the stage". This will consist of a reminder that events
and situations as they now exist are overly important, as without these I
could not properly terminate this story. These are:
1- the coffin is on a carrier on top of a steep hill
2- the drugstore is half-way down the steep hill
3- Mr. Cohen is standing behind his counter
4- added information: Mr. Cohen left the front door open
5- and coming up: an unexpected very strong gust of wind

The coffin is now rolled out to the middle of Main street. Then it is left
temporarily unattended, as the hearse is pulling up. And at this precise
moment, the unexpected very strong gust of wind occurs. It is much stronger
than the coffin carrier. The carrier tips over. The coffin falls off. The
coffin lands such that it starts rolling down the steep hill.

Many ladies gasp many "ah's". The distinguished Reverend utters "my gosh".
Mrs. Cohen cries out "James! James!". Mrs. Logan comes over to comfort her;
she says "now, now, it's ok Mabel: at least he won't hurt himself".

The coffin is rolling right down the middle of Main street, and gathering
speed. About a quarter of the way down, it begins to veer left. Half-way
down it hits a fire hydrant, right in front of Mr. Cohen's drugstore.

The impact causes the coffin to spring open, James flies out, then the
coffin bounces back to the middle of Main street, next bangs itself shut
on the first half-roll, and keeps rolling down the steep hill. Remember:
the coffin keeps rolling down the steep hill.

James' ejection from the coffin is at the required velocity and direction
to permit the following series of events:
1- James tumbling ahead in the direction of Mr. Cohen's drugstore
2- then tumbling through the open front door
3- and tumbling inside the drugstore in the direction of Mr. Cohen
4- barely missing bottles of Buckley's cough syrup piled up in a pyramid
5- ending up with a final tumble in such a way that James was on his feet
6- and leaning against Mr. Cohen's counter

Mr. Cohen, leaning on his right elbow, looks up from the delivery slip of
Buckley's cough syrup and asks: what can I do for you?

James answers: I need something to stop my coffin....

Denis Borris.

 

[Otis]

That is one of your better stories. Thanks for posting.

My favorite parts:

… Mrs. Logan comes over to comfort her; she says "now, now, it's ok Mabel: at least he won't hurt himself" …

… 5- ending up with a final tumble in such a way that James was on his feet
6- and leaning against Mr. Cohen's counter

Mr. Cohen, leaning on his right elbow, looks up from the delivery slip of
Buckley's cough syrup and asks: what can I do for you?

I would like to proffer the following edit.

The distinguished Reverend utters, "holy sh*t".