Mr. Williamson's Saturday Disturbance

Well, a new policy was just passed for "Life- Funked Up". That policy is that if there is ever a post about me, it will be reposted here on my blog. I will still attempt to get a full post in, but, there is always the chance that I run out of time, so, this might be it, I doubt it, but enjoy my boss' take on last night's event.

The phone rang just after 9:00 P.M. Saturday night. I knew something was wrong by the sound of the ring tone. It seemed darker than usual with a tune hardly recognizable from its normally bright melody. I picked up the receiver. The illuminated window said "Schools Public 801-785-8713".
"This can't be good," I whispered to my optimistic self.
"They might be done. They're calling to say they're leaving," it replied.
"No its bad. Trust me on this one," my pessimistic self unwelcomingly intruded.
"Shut up," I shot back. "I'm not in the mood."

It was bad news. Bracken called to ask me to leave the comforts of my home and return to the school to set the alarm for 3:00 A.M. People say you should never shoot the messenger, but what choice did I have? I unloaded my frustration. I didn't tell them to remove a part of the Odyssey's ceiling. I gave instructions to paint the front of the ship. How they got "remove a part of the Odyssey's ceiling" from my simple instructions I'll never know. Bracken told me that getting upset wouldn't solve the problem. The ceiling was damaged, the deed was done. Agreed, the deed was done but my commentary was just starting, and I had lots to comment on.

When Bracken called I was dosing in the comfortable plush arms of my rocking recliner, kept company by the flickering lights of my 65 inch TV. The lights had mesmerized me into a stupor. I hung up on Bracken, paused the TV show I really wasn't watching anyway, and three minutes later was in the Battlestar crossing over the canal and on my way to the school.

I saw the damaged ceiling. Bracken tried to explain over my streaming commentary. Rachel kept to the front of the ship painting. She knew it was best to keep a distance. When I'm in streaming commentary mode my arms like to flail about unpredictable and the spittle from my frothing mouth can be corrosive. Jon disappeared to the shop in the school's fallout shelter, the only safe place when I've gone nuclear.

Bracken attempted to calm things by taking full responsibility for everything, even though he was only there because he didn't want to go home and attend a Stake Conference meeting. I stopped him when his apology expanded to his birth.

"Bracken, why are you apologizing for something you weren't involved in?"
"If it helps, I'll apologize."
"Don't, unless you are the one responsible. Listen, sometimes you have to let people vent and that's what I'm doing - venting. Instead of apologizing, just tell me that you're sorry I'm upset and leave it at that."

Bracken left it at that. I changed the alarm to 3:00 A.M. I peppered the air with a bit more commentary before leaving, giving instructions on making sure the doors were shut when they finished. "We aren't stupid," their faces expressed without need for their mouths.

This morning I drove back to the school to see the results of their long night's labors. The Odyssey looks much better. Rachel did an outstanding job with the front of the ship. Bracken and Jon did a great job at repairing the ceiling. The ship was clean and ready for the 10:00 A.M. Monday morning mission. I spent a few more minutes at the school trying to gather the words I used in my volcanic eruption the night before but sadly couldn't find them. They were spoken, heard and gone. So, I'm going to apologize for my foul mood with a reminder that I'm in no condition to think reasonably after spending 34 nonstop hours at the Center for an overnight camp.

A word to the wise with our upcoming camp. If you want me to make a decision or think rationally about a problem, don't bring it up on the second day of camp. Wait until the third day when you know my sanity disappeared with the setting sun the night before. On the third day I'm usually beyond exhaustion and have been known to exhibit signs of giddiness.

"Mr. Williamson, a camper fell and broke his leg."
"Oh that's interesting."
"Mr. Williamson, the entire Pleasant Grove Fire Department, along with half the police force are here because the Voyager staff let out too much smoke and triggered the fire alarm."
"Really, how nice. Ask them if they'd like to stay for lunch."
"Mr. Williamson, the news says there is a n asteroid heading straight for Earth. It will wipe out all life on the planet, leaving Earth a barren wasteland."
"Really, break out the telescopes and let's have a nice look."
"Mr. Williamson, the pop machine is out of Diet Coke."
"Take me to the roof. It's time to end it all." (there is a limit to sleepless good humor).

--Victor Williamson, Director, CMSEC