h1

CYA FTW!

May 1, 2009
Drunk at work? Oooh... you'd better believe that's a paddlin'.

Drunk at work? Oooh... you'd better believe that's a paddlin'.

Had an interesting (if nearly pointless) experience at work today.

A little background: I work in metal fabrication making items like caps and tarp systems for semis and grain trailers, etc. Pretty much everything in the building (machinery and parts) is either 1.) sharp, 2.) heavy or 3.) deadly.

One of my fellow employees shows up at work today, still obviously hammered and reeking of alcohol. This employee has earned the nickname “Pockets” (a reference to where his hands always are) and spends almost every morning looking more than little hungover.

More background on Pockets: approx. 23 years old, two DUIs on his record, goes home after work and takes a nap before hitting the bars all night long and showing up for work the next day.

I go up to him and say, “Are you still drunk?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“Really? Because that’s all I’ve been hearing.”

I check with his friend who gave him a ride to work.

“Is he still drunk?”
“Yeah. I didn’t realize how drunk until I gave him a ride. He’s been drunk before but not this bad. I’m getting pretty sick of his shit.”

I go back to Pockets.

“You think it’s OK for you to show up here all fucked up?”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Are you kidding? You reek of booze.”
“No, I don’t.”

(We’ll pause here to consider the stupidity of that last riposte. Your personal BAC may be beyond my skill as a layman, but I’m pretty sure you can’t argue about the odor you’re emitting. That’s public domain. And it smells exactly like an opened beer. Several of them.)

“You’re drunk and you’re going to show up here? Someplace where everything is heavy and done on heavy machines? Best case scenario is you hurt yourself. But more likely, you’re going to end up hurting someone else.”
“I’m not fucking drunk.”
“What you need to do is go sit your ass down until our manager gets here.”
“But…”
“I’m not your supervisor so I can’t make you do this, but you need to get the fuck out of everyone else’s way.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“You’re full of shit.”

I wait for our supervisor to show up and tell him that I’m fairly sure Pockets will still blow hot on a B.A.C. test. He follows the employee handbook on this. Get an independent witness. Done. Get HR to fill out paperwork for the B.A.C. test. Done. They escort him off to the clinic for the test.

My conversations with him took place between 7:20-7:45 am. He gets escorted out around 9 am. They don’t even get to his test until after 10 am. Even with the extra 3 hours of not drinking, he still blows hot.

I’m thinking that’s it. Goodbye.

But no. He now has to attend mandatory Employee Assistance Meetings and has one more strike left. He shows up verifiably drunk again and he’s gone. My manager told him, “If it was up to me, I’d fire your ass now.”

He should be gone. He is willing to put himself and others in danger just because he likes to drink pretty much nonstop. He loses a limb, so what. He’s still living with mommy and daddy and has nobody relying on him for income.  But if he injures nearly anyone else, he’s taking food off the plate of decent human beings who have the ability to show up and do their job unimpaired.

So, thanks to our government, nearly everyone gets to be treated like a government employee and be given a million chances to show how incompetent they are. You have someone show up drunk to work in an already dangerous job and they still get a mulligan.

Bullshit.

-CLT

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3 comments

  1. Does the disability insurance pay out if you can’t quite manage to get the job done?


  2. Pretty sad. Dude needs to visit Bill @ AA, get laid or get Jesus. Or all three (not necessarily in that order.)

    That or experience living in his car for a month.Might just do the trick to get him ready for his next job.
    ps. Watching “Leaving Las Vegas” should help him sober up for a while.


    • Kevin, thanks for stopping in…

      I’m hoping that if nothing else, it may point out to him that he doesn’t exist in a drunken vacuum.



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