Chapter 1: Horrors of Medical Care

I’m Jackson Reese, a 27-year-old building maintenance guy. Before you think of me as another low-brow grunt, think again. I was a bit of a Momma’s boy, and she didn’t want me going off to an expensive East Coast university for as many as a half-dozen years. I really didn’t need a profession. Dad was old money. I just needed something to do, more of an avocation if you will. I merely wanted something to do that would get me out of the house.

My Dad died young and left my Mom a bundle. I live at her house in a pretty upscale neighborhood near St Petersburg, Florida. I was brought up spoiled rotten, but I’m potty trained and polite to a fault, so Mom keeps me. Somebody has to take out the trash and wash Mom’s BMW X2 M35i.

After 12 years of public school, I was seriously not interested in many more years in college. What did I want to do? I did not want to sit at a PC with dozens of other clones slaving away at our menial jobs in a giant sea of computer cubes.

I did need an occupation, so I chose Air Conditioning, Heating, and Refrigeration. I’m good with my hands.

I attended a local community college and became certified. I found out very few guys getting out of high school were turning to the trades. You can make good money right after high school in a trade. It also lets you move around and be outside at times. That’s much better than sitting all day hearing the jibber-jabber of the people around you.

I was hired by a desperate HMO company out of school with over 30 clinics in many nearby areas. The buildings are divided up for different purposes. Some offer full-service walk-in clinics, and some are doctor-only clinics by appointment.

Most of the buildings are old and somewhat in disrepair, which is where we maintenance people come in. Our maintenance guys cover all the bases. We have compressors, elevator systems, and a ton of electrical systems that keep things going. We also do plumbing and regular electrical repairs.

Then there are the ever-present problems with Heating and Air Conditioning equipment. Over the years, they have been made and installed by everyone under the sun. It can be a challenge. The systems are all quite old.

I work directly for Frank Poole, our maintenance supervisor. He is a man with too many responsibilities. Sometimes, he gets too angry. He has a manger above him that is a real piece of work. We usually take our ass chewings with a grain of salt.

One day, Frank lit into me for something I was not responsible for. It was another guy’s fault. I just happened to be near Frank when he went off.

He would not let me get a word in edgewise. I thought, “I’ve been here 5 years, and this is as good as it’s going to get? Do I need this job this bad? I do this to be around people and have something to do. I do it for pleasure - this is certifiably not pleasurable.

The more I stood there and listened to his tirade, the more he convinced me to quit. I took my phone off my belt, took the company truck keys out, and silently handed them to him. I walked away with him screaming at my back.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

I didn’t answer him. I just kept walking. Two blocks away, I entered McDonald’s and ordered an unhappy meal.

I would rather have had 5 Guys or anything else, but 5 Guys was 12 blocks away. I ate slowly because McDonald’s food is weird, and gulping it down would not help it digest.

I pulled out my own cell and called an Uber. I had the driver drop me off at the headquarters building, where I got in my pickup truck and drove home. The next morning HR called me and wanted me to come in and tell them what happened.

When I arrived and was escorted in, I told them, “I had my last ass chewing from Frank yesterday, that’s all. I feel there is no reason to be abusive to an employee. He had no right to chew on me for so long and in public, too. I don’t blame him. I blame the company. It has put too much pressure on one man, and I won’t be here when he really blows up.”

I stopped at that. I could have given a lot of reasons it was so messed up. They had the basics. They need to pay more to retain quality techs. They need to eliminate that upper-echelon manager, who keeps Frank on edge and nutty.

Telling them more things and in more depth would only confuse HR. They already knew all this from previous employee exit interviews.

There were lots of the usual questions. They knew the Maintenance Department was losing workers every month or so. Ideally, they wanted a team of ten; my leaving would make it five. They already know the reasons for Frank running on empty.

Part of that is on Frank. He wants to always be the guy who comes in and saves the day. That means he’s too busy to have time to properly train people on our systems.

Frank makes us stand around while he plays the big cheese and fixes everything more than changing a bulb or resetting a circuit breaker. Frank wastes our time and doesn’t pass down the training we need.

I got home early, and when Mom saw me, she said, “You had enough today, I take it?”

I said, “It was a long time coming. I figure I tried to hang in there. I learned a lot more about dealing with complex issues than I did about what my function was supposed to be. It was educational, but no fun at all. I’m going to get a drink, sit by the pool, and relax.”

I took a week off. I had not had a relaxing time off since I went to work at the HMO. It was like I was always on call as if I were working in New York or D.C. That shit is unacceptable in the south. The longer I thought about it, the happier I was with my decision.

I did get a call back to talk to HR one more time. They had investigated my complaint and apologized for the way I was treated. Would I consider coming back?

I said, “No, sorry. I thank you, but that ship has sailed.”

Frank was overworked. I was already to deck his crappy manager a time or three already. I didn’t say that, of course. No, I was finished. I did not want to go to jail for nailing the asshole that aggravates so many people so often. I don’t get how big companies keep such crappy higher-ups.

After relaxing for a week, I started looking for work.

I found a listing for a condo looking for a replacement generic maintenance man with an air conditioning, heating, plumbing, and electrical background. I emailed them and we made arrangements for me to come in and apply.

Generic, my ass. They wanted an expert in all maintenance fields, but they wanted to pay only a little more than a new guy. I hinted the pay was too substandard.

I was first interviewed by the outgoing maintenance man, George. I explained why I had left the HMO. He thought I had a case to sue them. Mom and I discussed it, but I didn’t want the hassle.

George asked me many questions that a maintenance man would need to know to fix things. I could tell he was happy with me; after all, I had been at this work for several years.

Julia Thompson interviewed me next. She was apparently glad I was youngish. She said she needed a go-getter and someone who would not retire in a few years like George had.

Julia had me fill out the generic forms, and then she copied my certifications. I was hired to start the following Monday. I was the under-instruction maintenance man at the Luminaire Towers at St. Petersburg Beach. The building has over 800 units and is six stories tall, with incredibly long hallways.

I also had to be drug tested. The condo paid for that, and it was a quick in-and-out thing with a urine sample, too.

Julia told me that 80% of the tenants are professional women between the ages of 30 and 60. There are always two security guards on site, one roving and the other watching the outside and hallway cameras.

It has so many females because the good security attracts women. They feel safe here. There is too much Estrogen here to attract many men.

I had one calendar month for George to get me up to speed before he retired completely.

George showed me around and ensured I knew the maintenance routines needed for the various pieces of equipment here. He also showed me the hidden equipment rooms and storage rooms. Some are where we keep extra compressor units and air handlers. If any AC dies, we have spares on hand to replace them.

George had set up a quality shop. Everything you needed to know was in the PC or on the bookshelf.

That was the one minor lousy thing about the job. Two-thirds of the compressor units are on the roof. The only access to the roof was up a broad set of stairs. Any compressor unit that needs to be replaced up there has to be humped up those stairs. After installing the replacement unit, the broken one was carried back down those same stairs. We can only take things up the maintenance elevator so far. Carrying a new 3-ton compressor unit up that last floor was difficult and beyond OSHA standards.