Challenges Are God's Way of Keeping you Alert

The house was sold. I had thirty days to move out. We were still negotiating the terms of the settlement. Chappy was holding out with hopes that I would find a "real job" and he'd be relieved of the monthly stroke of his Montblanc writing instrument to paper, providing me yet another month of manicures, pedicures, groomed dogs and highlighted curls.

Until the divorce was settled though I could not seriously job hunt. My desire to go to interior design school was no longer an option. I had to prepare for the future, providing for myself once more. Not having any idea where I was going to land, I had to keep my options opened. I wanted to return to Indianapolis but the insurance job market there had plummeted since I had resigned two and a half years ago. I was discovering securing a job was not going to be an easy task.  Although I had over twenty two years of experience, had worked my way up the ladder from a secretary in a small agency to a claims manager, the response to interviews were always the same, "You've been out of the business to long."

Twenty Two years I had been in the business.  I had experience in clerical functions, training, adjusting, management and litigation.  I had handled catastrophic injuries, mediated litigated claims, prepared claims for trial, negotiated settlements. I knew how fee schedules worked,  how a medical bill  was coded and processed. I could read a medical report and tell you what bone had been broken, what surgery was required, how long it would take to recover and how much it was going to cost. I could read a report after your MRI and know whether you  would be having surgery or placed in physical therapy.  Hell, I could diagnose your problem for you, tell you what over the counter drugs to take as well as what physical therapy modalities to do to relieve you of your pain by you telling me what your symptoms were without charging you a large fee and without the price tag of medical school. I knew ergonomics, how to evaluate a job site and adjust certain tasks to cut down on repeated injuries. I had adjusted claims in over twenty seven different jurisdictions. I had a lot of experience.  I had been gone twenty four months when Chappy walked out of the house and I knew I would have to return to claims work.

Technology changes, legislation may update itself once a year, but the basics of adjusting a claim never changes. Yet I was being told I had been out of the business too long.  It wasn't like it had been twenty years ago and I had no idea what a word document was. I wasn't going to walk in to an office, slap my forehead and be in awe of this new contraption that sent a document through the phone lines instantly to another number.  I wasn't going to be looking for the mimeograph paper when I wanted to copy some thing.  I wasn't looking for my trusty Royal typewriter ribbon so I could hen peck a letter to Johnny Fell of the Ladder Again, telling him that his blood alcohol level was off the chart and he was not entitled to "Workman's Compensation."  I at least had that going for me! But the excuse was always the same.

The man sitting in the big chair at Crawford had retired and been asked to come back and help save the company. Here is a man who was heading up a multi-million dollar company that would sit in his office and stare at the telephone lines, wondering how hitting this button labeled "send" could transmit the message in seconds to another machine half way around the world. He pondered whether new telephone lines had to be strung to accommodate all that information on the telephonic highway insuring it was delivered to the correct address.

 He challenged his Chief Operating Officer one day to explain to him how it was more efficient to have a "directory" on the "Intranet" for people in the company when all he  had to do was slide a bar down a metal box to the letter he wanted, hit the lever and shazam, he had a name, number and address. Mr. COO was still waiting for the computer to turn on. Now there is a person who had been out of the industry to long!

I was considering moving back to Michigan if I could not find employment in Indiana. But first, I had thirty days to move my life to a new destination.

I started with a garage sale. I was not going to pay and have these large household items stored for who knows how long. I had a new philosophy, when in doubt, buy new.  I didn't want the furniture that we had bought as newlyweds, so I sold it to my partner in crime.  I didn't want the solid oak dining room table and chairs.  The chair alone would give you a double hernia trying to pull it out from the table, imagine the challenge trying to push yourself away from the table! I sold the lamps and pictures as I had a new stash waiting at Lorna's house, courtesy of my husband who was silently pilfering from under my nose.  He never knew I had charged all of these new items for my new life and he paid for them! Too bad he shut that credit card down, I was not done shopping yet.  But he paid me plenty each month that I could get what I wanted without going in to debt.

I sold lawn equipment, computer desks, dressers, towels, bedding, you name it, I sold it.  I kept the fifty inch big screen television that we had bought when we moved to Illinois.  I kept the stereo that had been mine before we were married.  I kept the Bose speakers that he had wanted, but was given a pair of less quality. I kept the mattress and bedroom furniture as I had purchased the furniture shortly before we were married and the mattress was not that old. 

When Chappy and I had moved before, we filled a semi truck.  This time, I filled half of one, but I had plenty of money in my pocket to buy new once I landed where ever I was headed. 

I needed Chappy to come pick up his belongings. He had taken the love seat and chair from the furniture that we had bought from his parents, but the couch needed to be picked up along with other assorted boxes that included the speakers and Christmas tree he had demanded.

I gave Mr. King two different days that Chappy could come over with Two Thugs and a Toyota Moving Company.  I made it very clear that he was to inform Mr. Schafer, the thugs could enter the house, but he was not to set foot in it. Besides the obvious reasons, John had sent me a huge bouquet of flowers to congratulate me on the sale of the house. Bitter women would have   allowed their husband to come in and bragged about the flowers being in the way all the time.  Vengeful women? We are silent. We process the proof that we have gathered that has supported a wrong doing toward us.  We plot our plan to pay back those who have betrayed us and then, we piss on your parade, when you least expect it. I had just exited the process phase. I was entering the plotting of a plan stage.