Thursday, July 14, 2005
You Think You've Got A Bad Job?
This guy comes in to my office today who is a meter reader. He reads gas and electric meters for the power company. So today he gets bit by a dog on the job. As I'm talking to him, I realize I have no idea how some people have to spend their days.
First of all, this man was attacked by a dog. Not a little dog. This one happened to be a German Shepherd. The owner thought he had put it in the house, but the dog jumped up against the door and the door came flying open. So now the dog's out with our reader friend, and after he had finished around back of this house he makes his way around to the front to find...one angry German Shepherd looking for trouble. Well, thankfully, he was able to bob and weave around, and as the animal lunged at him he was able to take his meter recorder and hit it in the head. He thinks the dog's tooth caught his hand on it's way across his path, and before the dog could come again he was able to grab his dog spray and schnizzle Rin Tin Tin in the puss before anything else happened. He had to come in to get a tetanus shot nonetheless.
Not exactly how I'd want to spend my day.
But the worst part of it was that he matter of factly stated he has at least two dog "encounters" a day. This amazed me. His job is more dangerous than I would have thought. I consider myself a dog lover, too. But I wouldn't want to have to psych myself up just to go to work every day.
"Okay, here I go again, off to work. How many dogs will come after me today. One? Two? Five? Do I have enough spray? Am I alert enough? Can I do this again today? Will tomorrow be just like today, and will today be just like yesterday? Wait a minute...what was that? I thought I heard a noise behind me like an animal sneaking up or something. Must have been the wind. There it is again. I better turn around. No on second thought, I'll just...RUN!"
I mean, I have tough days and all. But doing what I do, at least I don't have crazed dogs running around my office looking to get a piece of me. Every day. Every single stinking day. At least I don't have to tell someone I can't get to them today because of the vicious dog blocking my way. Doesn't happen.
After years of this, this would, I think, really take years off your life. Or drive you to the edge. Which, thinking about letter carriers who are in the same predicament, might explain the whole "Going Postal" phenomenon.