My Inner Joe Cosgriff

Me Grandpa Joe, I loved that man. Hoo boy, though, did his temper have a short fuse. I'm sure I've spoken of that. But you know, the older I grow the more I get his temper. And I'll you something further: the older I get, the harder it is to hold that genetic disposition in check. There are times where it's all I can do to keep my temper down. Even then, I still lose it, but that's for another blog.

I can't begin to tell you exactly how much I wanted to throw down on a customer call just yesterday. I didn't, but I sure wanted to.

He had an issue with a drain snake, and I of course work on such animals. He told me what it was doing and I told him what it likely needed. He asked me to ship the part. "Well, why don't you try this test first," I started to explain, because there's a simple way to test this particular item and it could save everyone time and effort if the guy would take a few minutes to try it.

I was cut off, quite rudely I will add, which will not help his case. "We've done all the testing. Send me the part." FYI by his own admission they had not looked inside the motor, and the test I had in mind requires opening the motor.

That's where I nearly lost it, because I know absolutely, beyond any doubt, he had not tried the test I intended to suggest. I know that because it's not something anyone without my knowledge of the problem would know. Not that I'm all that, but merely that it's a very specialized type of knowledge which only someone with experience could have. And you must open the motor to do it. 

I my mind I could actually hear myself yelling at the man (and in Joe's voice no less!) "No! You have not done all the testing; you don't know what the test is! You called me because you don't know what's wrong but now you don't wanna listen to my advice!" I wanted to hang up on him, I was so mad. I haven't missed a rotary phone in ages, but I wished we were on one simply for the grand finale slam of the earpiece onto the cradle.

Instead I'm going to send him the part, and it had best work, for his sake. Because I will go off on him if he calls later with a complaint. I guarantee that.

Customer Base

While on the road early yesterday me brother Phil and I decided to stop for breakfast. We arrived at the front doors of a restaurant exactly as the manager was unlocking them for business. "Just the two of you today?" she asked pleasantly.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll have more customers than us," Phil quipped.

"It's really too early for jokes, sir," she responded. But I thought it was good.

Danse Craze

Several years ago I happened to be at a wedding reception with a friend who happened to be French. I'll call him Monsieur Cloyce just to give him a name.

At one point as Monsieur Cloyce and I were chatting the DJ called for anyone interested to come out onto the dance floor for a group dance. When all were assembled he began playing began The Chicken Dance. Hilarity ensued.

Monsieur Cloyce and I had elected not to participate. But he did turn to me and remark, "At home in France, we have a similar event at weddings. We call it, Le Danse Du Coq."

"Really?" I asked. "What does that translate to?"

"The Chicken Dance," Monsieur Cloyce answered solemnly.

I suppose I might have guessed that.

To Begin With

There are times where all you can do is scratch your head. 

A customer brought a large drain machine into the old barn for repair. "I think I burned it out, Cosgriff. Do have an idea what it will cost me?"

This particular machine had all the cords cut off at the reverse switch box attached to the motor. "Not really, without going over it. But where are the cords?" I asked.

"I was trying to fix it myself," he replied sheepishly, "and threw them away."

You threw them away? I thought in silence. "Well, a complete rewire is $175, so you'll need at least that if I can get it running. So whatever getting the problem fixed costs, $175 will be added on if you approve the repair."

"So we're starting at $175?" he demanded in shock. Yes, but you tossed the cords, I again thought quietly.

I sighed. "No charge at all if you don't approve the fix. I'm simply explaining that whatever the trouble is it'll be an additional $175."

The guy's shoulders dropped. "I guess I shouldn't have thrown them out."

I guess not. Why did you even think that was a good idea?

With You Always

In the Catholic Lectionary, today is the Feast of the Ascension of the Lord. Forty days after Easter Christ was taken up to Heaven before the eyes of His Apostles, who still expected the earthly Kingdom of Israel restored. If you ever think you don't 'get' it, remember that neither did His closest followers at first. To add to their confusion the famous men in white appeared, asking, "Men of Galilee, why do you stare into the sky? This Jesus...will return." Yet in the Gospel of Mark read during today's Mass, we are left with Christ's promise, "I am with you always, until the end of the age."

It's a wonderful, consoling, hopeful, thrilling consolation. He is with us always. 

When we are dealing with death, He is there.

Illness? He holds our hand.

That aggravating coworker? Christ is by your side, ready to help you deal with that rascal with all the Christian Charity you can muster.

He is even there when we face too much. I am not one to believe that God never gives us more than we can handle. Neither do I believe in Jesus, take the wheel. We are here to do whatever job the Lord wants us to do. It's our task, not His. That might mean we are allowed to become overwhelmed precisely so that we get it in gear, to get our house in order, to be in a sense told to stop. You can't handle all that. Prioritize. Learn to focus. Do what you can and let go of what you can't. And Christ will still be there through it all for support.

His physical self left us. But Christ the Son of God remains with us as God. Until the end of the age. 

Easy Negotiations

Me Grandpa Joe, he didn't negotiate price. Oh, he'd allow his friend Amos to do so in his stead, so I'm probably playing a bit loose with this assertion. Still, Joe to my knowledge never himself negotiated a price.

I found this out on a trip through western Michigan with him, looking for a pump jack as I recall. I'm still not sure what a pump jack is but I know it had to do with the oil wells he was invested in back in the day, and I know they were big because we had to take his manual shift stake truck with the ten foot bed to carry one.

Anyhow, after driving for two days, two days of me learning to drive a stick I might add (so there were a lot of fits and spurts and stalled engines as I learned through trial by error) we ended up at his friend Ford's. Ford was his actual first name; I don't remember his last. Ford took us out into a field of various machinery, about in the middle of which was an old pump jack. It looked like an oversized grasshopper to me. Joe asked Ford what he wanted, and Ford told him. Joe took a drag on a cigarette, then just said kinda quietly, "I think I'll pass." We began the trip home.

Grandpa explained to me that a fella knows what his stuff is worth, and who was he to argue with that? I get what he means. I rarely negotiate myself, usually giving a simply yea or nay when dealing with someone one on one. And it ain't like we can typically negotiate anyway: at Kroger you pay what Kroger asks for groceries or you walk on by. I suppose I was just a bit miffed that, after lurching across the state and staying one long night in a tired old hotel, the journey was for naught. In the end though, I respect his point.

Religious Hockey

It's supposed to be true. But if not, truth should never get in the way of a good story, right?

Years ago, when I believe Gump Worsley was the goaltender of the Minnesota North Stars, a Minneapolis bar ran a contest where first prize was dinner for two with Worsley. A local guy won, and he took his teenage son with him for the supper.

The day after, a sportswriter claimed he had had a religious experience. He said that he walked into a restaurant the evening before and saw the Father, the Son, and the Goalie Host.

Not bad. Some people do treat hockey like a religion too.