She's Sherrie

Halloween Old School Yes, it was a long time ago and far away.  But I remember it clearly because it was the first time I was allowed to participate, to actually go out and search for gold, candy.  And my favorite person, my Uncle Jerry, was my adult supervision. I lived in Falls Church, Virginia, a very quaint community about 15 miles from Washington, D.C.  There were tons of kids in the area, and I had watched them Trick or Treating through my living room window for years. Sigh.  My brother always got to go, and I was always left behind.  No candy for me because he was a greedy kid who wasn't giving it up.  In fact, he would eat it in front of me and describe how good it was. Then he would tease me and ask if I wanted some. Of course, I did. He said I had to ask him nicely, which of course I did.  I even lowered myself to begging with the "pretty please," followed by tears of anger and frustration.  The pig never gave it up.  But this year would be different. Ba

Photogenic Kay Well, here it is, 2020 already. I wrote this for Kay in 2017, hoping she might read it. She had been very ill for some time, but I could not confirm any details until recently. Unfortunately, Kay passed away last January from complications of diabetes. I had been searching for information about her without any luck. Last month, I had a temporary gig as an admin for a Facebook group for former Bell System employees.  I found her name on some information that had not been posted promptly.  One of my friends was kind enough to forward her obituary to me. When you read her obituary, you will see how artistic and talented and loved she was. She was a slow burner; it took Kay years to find true happiness and love, but on the way, she endeared herself to us by making us laugh, helping us if we needed it, and watching her grow. She loved and was loved. About our Kay. When I started working in the Business Office, I met and became friends with many great people.  

I voted in every election.  I have paid taxes most of my life. I have given money to the needy over the years. My family members have participated in every war since the Civil War.  I raised my children to become responsible and sensitive to others. I took care of my son and my mother when they were dying. Now I am retired, living on one small income. I am in reasonably good health, but I worry about how I will pay the co-pays and out of pocket expenses when I'm not.  I do not go to the doctor when I should. I see the middle-class people and poor, disabled, and elderly struggling every day.  I see people lined up at churches waiting for a small monthly amount of food from the food bank.  Not enough food for a month, but maybe a week. I see elderly, sickly people in front of me in the grocery line paying for whatever tiny amount of food they can get from their 16.00 food stamp allotment,  which seems to be the standard amount for a single person. I see people sl

Let's talk about the elephant in the room, the classroom.  The elephant's name is Sales.  The most difficult part of training is learning about all of the equipment.  Not just the official name and official color, but the USOC, the Universal Service Order Code.   Every item and color and style, shape, or size had a specific code recognized universally in any of the Bell System and AT&T systems. Before we could add any equipment to any customer request, we had to learn all the codes.  Remember, we had a form that we wrote everything on during a conversation.  We had to order it in technical language for time constraints and getting the order transmitted from our hands to the customer's home.  An old ugly yellow dial desk phone was an EXTYC, translation; a yellow extension rotary dial desk phone.  We had to remember all of the codes and the features and benefits of each item.  We practiced over and over, writing fake orders, on fake phone calls, with fake people. On

That picture of the phone over there to the left is a modern version of the phones on every desk in the business office.  A dinosaur even for that period.  Rotary dial.  Olive green.  Old as PA Bell.  I had touchtone phones in my apartment in 1965 in the Washington DC area.  Maybe Dallas was just a little slow to get the technology. Also, notice there is no headset attached to it.  We were on the phones eight hours a day, holding the phone on our necks crooked to one side to keep our hands free to write and file documents while we talked.  Only one person in the office had a headset.  That was Jane, a Liza Mannelli look-alike who had obtained special medical permission from The Surgeon General or Dr. Nick or Doctor Bell, some special doctor.  The rest of us had to suffer a few years until someone decided they could get more work out of us if we had headsets.  Oh, and maybe we wouldn't need so many green pills for our headaches and sore necks. I have already described how we

Training, training, training.  We really had to keep a positive outlook.  It was grueling, and we had to stick together and keep our spirits up collectively.  One had to maintain a certain level of self-confidence.  If you didn't, if you doubt yourself, you might not have enough confidence to make it to the end of the training and graduate.  We were all determined to get our full-fledged service rep ears.  None of the four of us wanted to be sent back to our old jobs because we flunked out of class.  That was the only option, either that or quit.  We were not biting into that failure sandwich. Obviously, we started our training with the easy stuff and added more difficult pieces of the puzzle as we went along.  That meant that our time taking real phone calls from real customers increased as our skill level widened.  One of the more difficult parts of our training was dealing with customers who had delinquent bills or customers who passed the late phase and whose phones had now

So much heartache, how do you watch your strong, vibrant child fade away under the control of cancer?  How do you, as a mom, live over it?  Where do you get the strength to move past it?  What can you do to get past it?  I'm afraid that I don't have the answers to any of those questions.  It has been ten years since Jeff died, and I have not recovered from his loss.  It is insurmountable grief and sadness that follows you like a constant shadow, always present.  A noise, a smell, a thought can trigger an emotional avalanche that buries you.  I will never get past the horror, the sadness, the loss, or the "what ifs."  I have post-traumatic stress from the ordeal, yes absolutely diagnosed with PTSD.  The first two years after Jeff died, my head became a VCR, and vivid pictures and scenes from events that happened would kick on for no reason and play.  Sometimes, the same scene would play over and over.  It still happens but is usually triggered by an external event.