This morning (12/16/15) it was 39 degrees outside and 56 inside the house.
Fired like a Rock'n Roll Disc Jockey
My resume includes a stint at WHB Radio, KC, Mo. Standard practice there was to fire a disc jockey one minute after he came off the air - this pre-empted any anti-station rants he might have come up with after diligent thought.
Physical Therapy has nothing to do with disc jockeys, radio or rock'n roll, but being fired appears to be similar. Case in point: the surgeon Rxed PT for me and I duly followed orders. My therapist was a beautiful woman of Asian descent - her cat eyes gave her away.
Our first meeting went well; a minor exchange of "girl talk" - we both love dirty gin martinis, but subsequent meetings degenerated fairly quickly. She was nothing loathe to yell at me. Sample: "Mees Murfee, I have to tell you EVERY TIME!" (fill in sin of the moment.) This is disconcerting - okay, it was to me, when I was trying to do three things and being railed at for missing the fourth.
Several times she reminded me that she had a Masters in PT and I didn't. In my experience, a pro never mentions being a pro and someone should tell her that.
It won't be me, however, as at the end of our session last Monday, she told me not to come today; that my last session would be next Monday and no Wednesday after that. At home, I duly went to my calendar to log in these changes. I had no further appointments.
Sacked like a fumbling quarterback. Or a rock'n roll DJ.
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