Some days, humor is all ya got left....
This is a bricklayer's accident report that was printed in the newsletter of the English equivalent of the Workers' Compensation Board. So here, thanks to John Sedgwick, is this Bricklayer's report.
Dear Sir;
I am writing in response to your request for additional information in Block #3 of the accident reporting form. I put "Poor Planning" as the cause of my accident. You asked for a more complete explanation and I trust the following details will be sufficient.
I am a bricklayer by trade. On the day of the accident, I was working alone on the roof of a new six-story building. When I completed my work, I found I had some bricks left over which, when weighed later, were found to weigh 240 lbs. Rather than carry the bricks down by hand, I decided to lower them in a barrel by using a pulley which was attached to the side of the building at the sixth floor.
Securing the rope at ground level, I went up to the roof, swung the barrel out, and loaded the bricks into it. Then I went down and untied the rope, holding it tightly to insure a slow descent of the 240 lbs of bricks. You will note on the accident reporting form that my weight is 135 lbs.
Due to my surprise at being jerked off the ground so suddenly, I lost my presence of mind and forgot to let go of the rope. Needless to say, I proceeded at a rapid rate up the side of the building.
In the vicinity of the third floor, I met the barrel which was now proceeding downward at an equally impressive speed. This explains the fractured skull, minor abrasions, and the broken collarbone, as listed in Section 3, accident reporting form.
Slowed only slightly, I continued my rapid ascent, not stopping until the fingers of my right hand were two knuckles deep into the pulley which I mentioned in Paragraph 2 of this correspondence. Fortunately, by this time I had regained my presence of mind and was able to hold tightly to the rope, in spite of the excruciating pain I was now beginning to experience.
At approximately the same time however, the barrel of bricks hit the ground and the bottom fell out of the barrel. Now devoid of the weight of the bricks, the barrel weighed approximately 50 lbs.
I refer you again to my weight. As you might imagine, I began a rapid descent down the side of the building. In the vicinity of the third floor, I met the barrel coming up. This accounts for the two fractured ankles, broken tooth and severe lacerations of my legs and lower body.
Here my luck began to change slightly. The encounter with the barrel seemed to slow me enough to lessen my injuries when I fell into the pile of bricks and fortunately only three vertebrae were cracked.
I am sorry to report, however, as I lay there on the pile of bricks, in pain, unable to move and watching the empty barrel six stories above me, I again lost my composure and presence of mind and let go of the rope.
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A shepherd was herding his flocks in a remote pasture when suddenly a brand new Jeep Cherokee advanced out of a dust cloud towards him. The driver, a young man in a Brioni suit, Gucci shoes, RayBan sunglasses and a YSL tie, leaned out of the window and asked our shepherd: "If I can tell yo exactly how many sheep you have in your flock, will you give me one?" The shepherd looks at the yuppie, then at his peacefully grazing flock and calmly answers "sure!" The yuppie parks the car, whips out his notebook, connects it to a cell-phone, surfs to a NASA page on the Internet where he calls up a GPS satellite navigation system, scans the area, opens up a database and some 60 Excel spreadsheets with complex formulas. Finally he prints out a 150 page report on hi-tech miniaturized printer, turns round to our shepherd and says: "you have here exactly 1436 sheep!"
"This is correct. As agreed, you can take one of the sheep" says the shepherd. He watches the young man make a selection and bundle it in his Cherokee.
Then he says: "If I can tell you exactly what your business is, will you give me my sheep back?"
"Okay, why not" answers the young man.
"You are a consultant" says the shepherd.
"This is correct" says the yuppie, "How did you guess that?"
"Easy!" answers the shepherd. "You turn up here although nobody called you. You want to be paid for the answer to a question I already knew the solution to, while in fact you don't know SHIT about my business, because you took my dog!"
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A young journalism graduate from Arkansas had gone to work for the New York Times. His first assignment was to write a brief human interest story. An idea came to him and he returned to one of the most remote areas he knew of in his home state of Arkansas. Deep in the woods, he came upon a farmers house and decided this would be a good place to start. He introduced himself to the back country farmer and explained why he was there. The farmer (named Farmer Mahon) agreed to answer his questions. The reporter asked the farmer what event in his life had made him the happiest? Farmer Mahon replied, “One time a neighbor lost one of his sheep. We all formed a posse and found it. After we all screwed it we took it back to the farmer that lost it.” “I can’t print that,” said the reporter, “Is there another event that made you really happy?” Farmer Mahon thought for a minute and said, “Yep. One time the daughter of another local farmer got lost. She was a good-lookin’ young girl. We all formed a posse and found her. After all of us screwed her, we took her back to her daddy.” Again the reporter knew he couldn’t print the story and decided to take a different tack. He asked Farmer Mahon, “Is there any event in your life that has made you really sad?” Farmer Mahon hung his head and replied, “Well, I got lost once.”
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I dearly hope that your day is going as well as mine....warm sun, health, dinner in the oven, people who love me and two golden retrievers that think I'm God.
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