Last Minute Request & a Foul Ball

Super called me last minute, asking if I could go in. Tim was out of town and Fred had already worked on extra game. I was next on the list. I didn't have a ride so he sent Estella over to get me. On her way, she looked for my mother who had taken off walking earlier. No sign. Luckily, when we arrived, we learned that mother had arrived safely. It's a wonder where I get it from, these sudden urges to something insane and/or stupid.

The "horses" were placed up already so I just walked over to lot 3 and took my place. Typical Wednesday, it was slow and annoying. I called Jyg to tell her I had gone in so she wouldn't go to the house to visit and find me not there. Time moved slowly. Finally, around 8:30/8:40, Estella called me in and I walked back to the stadium, gave the tickets and cash to the banker, got it counted and initialed out. I knew I was going to stick around to pick up the "horses" so I awaited Javi to get out from lot 2. After he did, I went to talk to Super about picking up the stuff so we could check out. He finally came out and started talking to the girl who was on lot 1 and the girl on tickets. Javi stood talking to his girlfriend when the announcer called out a foul ball.

Without much thinking or looking, I saw the ball sail over high, smack into the roof to our left and spit out forward. Quickly, I flinched backward saw the ball fly by my face and watched it hit the bank window and bounce off the wall only to roll out of the stadium, under the gate.

In that same instance, Javi let out a loud, "Whoa!" and cupped his shoulder. It was then that I realized in my perception of the foul ball flying passed my face, I lost it for a second as it hit Javi's shoulder. I'm not sure how bad it was, but Super thought he was in good enough shape to pick up the stuff, which he did, falling down after the first one. I was paranoid, to say the least, when we were riding on the bed of the truck. I thought the worse and was prepared to snatch him if he should decided (not really decide, obviously) to fall off.

As we left the stadium, having put away the materials, I noticed that his shoulder was slightly swelling. He even complained that his arm was going numb. The only thing he could feel was a tingle, like "spider legs walking all over it."

Drama at the Work Place

Go figure. With a "new" team and "new" management, you'd think that things finally in the stadium would be graceful and happy. Wrong. With the new schedules now in place, I'm not longer a parking lot Nazi, but a parking lot Nazi slash Ticket Troll as well.

That's not the worse part. I work at the stadium for two reasons:

1. My mother works there so getting the job wasn't hard
2. I like chasing cars to collect tolls (which I'm not allowed to do anymore)

And I was in agreement that parking three (or four, whichever it is now) would be my home lot. I'm uncomfortable being in the throes of people. It's part of my anxiety problem (which correlates with a series of mental issues like depression and neurotic behavior). Bossman doesn't like us getting too comfortable in our positions so he wants to expand them. Now I'm in the risk of heat stroke come Thursday and conked on the head by a foul ball on Saturday. This hardly seems fair.

But to add injury to insult, Bossman decided yesterday (on my day off) to attack my mother for doing her job. While the men maintenance workers sit on their backsides most of the day, my mother was doing their job. And it's not a lie, or an over exaggeration. One of these guys used to work on the lot before he decided he wanted more hours (like I did) and request to be transferred to maintenance (like I did, but unlike him, didn't get). On Sunday, said guy was out with his father when I was called in, rather than picking up and cleaning the stadium.

Looks like it's going to be a hell of a season. Let's just hope this blog doesn't get me into trouble. And if it does, then I guess I'll just have to write an inside report. Simple as that.