ASLEEP ON THE JOB AGAIN

I once heard about a man who was resting on his forklift at work and unintentionally fell asleep. As he was waking up, he realized someone was standing beside him. It was his supervisor. So before he opened his eyes, he took a deep breath, and said, Amen.

That was told to me as a true story, but I don’t know if it is or just a joke. I thought it was funny. It made me laugh. It does sound like something that could have really happened because I’ve fallen asleep on the job a few times. All during lunch except the time I’m telling you about now.

One of my first full-time jobs was making vinyl siding. We worked three 12-hour shifts, and one 6-hour shift each week. There were 4 shifts. Days and nights at the first part of the week, and days and nights at the second part of the week. I was on the 4th shift which was nights, from Wednesday night through Saturday night. I would get off work on Sunday and be off until Wednesday night.

Those were weird hours, and they seemed so long. I couldn’t get much sleep in the daytime, mainly because I was used to sleeping at night, but a few of my friends and family were not as considerate as they could have been. One of my young cousins actually set the woods on fire behind my house one day while I was trying to sleep.

Being tired and sleepy at work is bad enough for eight hours, but it’s worse for a 12-hour shift, and it didn’t help that the job was boring.

I was packing vinyl siding into boxes as it came off a conveyor belt just after going through the mold to form it into its unique shape. When it came out at the end of the machine, it traveled through another mold just to keep it straight and in the same shape while it quickly cooled down. It was fenced-in with rollers and presses to aid in this process and to keep anyone from getting hurt. By the time it reached the end of the track and dropped onto the rollers, it was pretty much cooled off and in the shape it would be in for the next twenty-plus years.

Sometimes a piece of trash or something would get in the mix somewhere along the way and it would cause a hole to appear in the piece of siding. As it was pushed and pulled along the track it would usually become solid again when the piece of trash moved on, but sometimes it wouldn’t. When the hole remained for more than a few seconds we would have to quickly cut the piece of siding off behind the hole with a hacksaw and quickly put it back into the precisely formed track.

It was bound to happen, and one night it did. A huge hole formed in the piece of vinyl, and I knew it wasn’t about to work itself out. I grabbed the hacksaw and cut as fast as I could, but I wasn’t fast enough to get the siding back into the form in time. I had to try it again. I grabbed the quick-moving siding with my left hand and the saw with my right hand and began to cut it again. After only two strokes, I stopped. I knew what I had done. The second stroke had cut my thumb almost completely off.

I grabbed my bloody hand and ran to the restroom. As I washed my thumb in the sink, I could see the extent of the damage. The saw had hacked through my thumb, removing a portion as wide as the teeth on the blade. There was only a small section of the nail and flesh left intact. I was in a lot of pain.

I went to the emergency room and got it patched up. Then I spent the next week or so pushing a broom at work for twelve hours a night. That was worse than the accident itself. I was supposed to be on light duty for two weeks but after one, I couldn’t do it anymore. I bugged them until I convinced them to let me get back on the line.

I still wasn’t sleeping enough, so I started using caffeine pills to keep me awake at work. They made me sick so I had to stop taking them. Then one night, as I was packing the siding into boxes, I woke up about twenty feet away from my line. I was holding one piece of siding in my hands looking around. The plant manager and my supervisor were standing together by the break room looking at me and laughing their heads off. So I calmly walked back to my line and got caught up as quickly as I could.

Then, one morning as I was driving home, I fell asleep and slammed the side of my car into a bridge on the highway. It woke me up, and I jerked the steering wheel in the opposite direction and went into the opposite lane. Thank God there was no oncoming traffic there or I might not be here to tell the story.

After that, I had to quit and find a daytime job. That’s how I ended up with the position where I fell Asleep On The Job that I previously wrote about. You can read that post and one about another time I cut the end of my index finger almost all the way off at the links below.

God has been so good to me. I’ve been through a lot in my life and he’s always gotten me through whatever bad happened and I know he’ll always be there to help me. You can trust him, too. Never forget that.

ASLEEP ON THE JOB
https://teddylynn.blogspot.com/2017/07/asleep-on-job.html

THE DUNE BUGGY, THE BICYCLE, AND THE DRILL
https://teddylynn.blogspot.com/2023/09/the-dune-buggy-bicycle-and-drill.html

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© 2023 Teddy Lynn – All Rights Reserved

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READ BETWEEN THE LINES

When I was in school, there was a popular saying going around among the students. “Read Between The Lines.” As you said the words, you held up three fingers with the middle finger being in the middle of the other two, like three lines. When you read between the lines you would discover you were being given the middle finger.

That was a childish game, but I’ve seen adults use it and I used it myself into my late teens, occasionally. But there’s an adult version still kicking around today, but it is a little different. Something is said, and someone else “reads between the lines.” What that means is they’re discovering what the person who spoke really meant but didn’t actually say.

Now occasionally, there are instances where people will say something with camouflaged or hidden meanings that they want someone to know without actually having to say it plainly, but most of the time, when we read between the lines we’re not discovering anything new or extra that the person was thinking but didn’t say, we’re only thinking they said something they didn’t say and didn’t even think.

When we read between the lines, we’re actually projecting our own thoughts and feelings into something someone else said. It’s very likely that what we think we’re discovering between the lines is only our thinking, and has absolutely nothing to do with what the person actually said or thought. In reality, most of the time, I think we’re actually discovering what we think, and feel about the subject being presented.

You may not think you have ever been guilty of reading between the lines because you didn’t think that was what you were doing at the time, but have you ever had someone say to you “That’s not what I said?” You misunderstood what they said. Maybe that was an instance of reading between the lines.

I’ve actually been on both sides of this subject where I thought someone meant something they didn’t mean when they actually didn’t, and I’ve had people think something I said meant something it didn’t mean when I was talking. Our reaction in a situation like this can actually ruin relationships, friendships, and family ties.

So, in the future, let’s think about that before we read between the lines and if we think someone meant something they didn’t actually say, we should talk about it and discuss it with them, in a kind loving way. Not in a mean-spirited manner or a condescending way. We need to be kind, always. Sometimes I’m sure we’ll actually find that they did mean what we thought they meant but didn’t actually say, but most of the time, I think we’ll find that they didn’t mean anything more than what they actually said. We can preserve our relationships by discussing misunderstandings in a respectful, loving way.

Let’s not leave God out of the situation either. Always pray before you talk to someone about some conflict, and make sure God is with you to help with what you say, and how you react. Relationships are very important, so we have to be intentional in preserving them.

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THE GRASS IS NOT ALWAYS GREENER ON THE OTHER SIDE

I remember when I was twelve years old, we moved to a new place. It was beautiful, especially after four years of living beside the busy highway. The view of nothing but cars and trucks going back and forth, like rows of ants, got old after a while. Now, we were in a new place. A beautiful place. A place that reminded me of the old west that I had seen on TV. There were fields, and pastures with cows, and horses, creeks and springs, hills and valleys, and a big river where we could fish and swim. Like I said, it was a beautiful place.

I remember immediately wanting to explore as much of my new environment as I possibly could, but my grandmother, being the great parent she was, had some concerns. There were snakes, and other critters to watch out for, and she was worried about us being around a big body of water without adult supervision. She loved us, and she wanted us to have fun but she also wanted us to be safe, so we had time limits on how long we could be gone from the house before we had to come back and let her know we were okay. We didn’t have cell phones back then, and who knows what could happen in a place like that? I was allowed to explore, but she said I needed to check in every hour so she wouldn’t worry so much.

One day, while exploring down by the river, I found an open space in the woods, with a mixture of green grass, and brown weeds, that was totally different from any of the other places I had seen around the river. It wasn’t actually beautiful, like a flower garden. It was very interesting. I was so amazed that God would put that spot there in the middle of the woods where very few people would ever see it. I visited that place time and time again. There was just something about it that kept drawing me back.

I also noticed something else very interesting. Directly across the river, there was a spot without trees that looked quite similar to the spot where I was standing. It appeared to be about the same shape and size as the one on my side of the river. Maybe they were both once part of the same spot before the river ever came through. There was something different about it, though. That grass looked much greener and thicker than the grass on the side where I was. I had to get over there and visit that spot; I just had to.

The desire was so strong that, if I had known how to swim then, I might have jumped in the water, and tried to make it to the other side that day, but I used my common sense and resisted the temptation. I formulated a plan, and the next day I put it into action. I had one hour. I knew there was a bridge somewhere down the river because we had crossed it several times going to my uncle’s house. So, I said goodbye to my sisters and my grandmother and calmly walked toward the field that led to the woods by the river. Then as soon as I was out of sight, I ran as fast as I could for as long as I could. I had to make it to that bridge as soon as possible.

I crossed fence after fence and field after field. I kept thinking it should be just around the next turn, only to be disappointed again and again. I started thinking I would never get there. I finally did make it to the bridge and crossed it. Then I headed back up the river on that side in search of that beautiful oasis in the woods. My hour was pretty much up by the time I reached my destination, so I didn’t get to spend much time there, but that wasn’t the most disappointing part. It wasn’t near as beautiful, nor as green as it had appeared when I saw it from the other side of the river. Now it looked exactly like the spot I had viewed it from on the opposite bank. In fact, the spot I had first visited on the other side looked a lot like the spot where I was now standing did when I was on the other side.

When I think about that experience, an old saying comes to mind; “The Grass Is Always Greener On The Other Side.” Well, I can testify that it’s not! I know that phrase is usually spoken sarcastically, and I wish I could say I learned that lesson that day, but, sadly, I can’t. I was raised going to church, and reading the Bible. I was taught to do right, and to avoid “sinful pleasures,” but I still left home at sixteen, and went to the “other side.” After about three years of “sinful pleasure,” I did finally realize that the grass is NOT always greener on the other side. That’s when I truly realized what a sinner I was, and how much I needed a savior.

It’s sad that we humans don’t often learn from the mistakes of others, or the wisdom of those who have been there, and warn us of things we need to avoid. It’s sad that we have to be in the mud with the pigs to see how much better it is to be clean, but that just seems to be human nature.

So when you look at something and think it looks better than where you are now, don’t be so quick to go after it. Investigate first. Pray and see what God says, and remember, the grass is NOT always greener on the other side.

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© 2015 Teddy Lynn – All Rights Reserved

My books are available in paperback and digital format on Amazon @ 
https://www.amazon.com/Teddy-Lynn/e/B01MZDB6L6