I’d dropped out of college and quit my job at K-Mart. What was I going to do? I had no idea. The only thing I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to go back to work as a mechanic–I’d had enough busted knuckles.
Neither did I want the grease-packed fingernails that were dead giveaways of someone who turned wrenches for a living. And not only fingernails, but the creases in my hands and fingers trapped the same nasty stuff. I didn’t want the cuts, scrapes, scratches, burns, and harsh chemicals associated with that kind of work. But most of all, I didn’t want to be known as a car mechanic. In my mind, working on cars carried with it a stigma of social disgrace, something of which I wanted no part.
But I needed a job. It was at this time when I started thinking about returning to the Air Force on the enlisted side, rather than as an officer as I would have if I’d stayed in college. I contacted the local Air Force recruiter, and I essentially had to start over as if I’d never been in the service before. I had to take the ASVAB (armed services vocational aptitude battery, the written test for enlistees) again. I passed. Then he sent me to St. Louis, Missouri, to take another physical. I passed that, too. At the time, however, the Air Force had no open jobs for which I was qualified and in which I was interested. So I remained a civilian, but only for a while longer.
In the meantime, friends who worked in the service department at the local Chevrolet dealership told me about an independent auto repair shop where the owner was taking applications for a mechanic position that had been vacated. Should I or should I not apply?
I didn’t want to. I’d rather have submitted to water torture or have splinters driven under my nails than to apply. But, I also had to consider the fact that the U.S. economy was in a recession in 1981, and companies were downsizing in large numbers. (It seems as though this country is in recession more than it’s not.) Rather than mess with resumes, cover letters, and interviews in trying to find a job outside of automotive repair, I decided to take the easy way out and apply. The application consisted of my name and address on piece of paper. I started the next week.
The shop measured 40 ft. by 72 ft.–large enough to service cars, but it was built without any racks. Why the owner didn’t install at least one is beyond me. If you’ve ever worked on cars for a living, you know that not having a rack means you do everything under the car on a creeper. And if you’re paid on straight commission, working on your back under a vehicle takes longer, much longer, which means your paycheck is smaller, much smaller. This job reinforced in me the need to re-enter the military, although I wasn’t sure that’s what I should do. My feeling of ambivalence stuck with me for the next few months, even after I was back on active duty.
After a month of greasy fingers and country music, I called the recruiter and told him to find me something. I said I’d take any job except a cop or a cook. He phoned a few days later and said, “Mike, I’ve got you a job as an aircraft repair specialist if you want it at Mt. Home Air Force Base, Idaho. Your tech school class won’t start until April next year, though.” I said, “I’ll take it.” Going back enlisted didn’t have the right “feel” to it, but I did it anyway. So I gave my new boss my five-month notice. He didn’t fire me; he said I could work there for as long as I needed.
During this time my insomnia continued to get worse. I have the most remarkable inability to make good life-changing decisions, an inability which has played a large part in causing my sleeplessness. Having no direction in life has caused me many wide-awake nights over the years. And now at age 55 I find myself paying for occupational choices (mistakes) I made at earlier ages.
One Tuesday night in September of that year I lay awake all night. I called in the next morning and took the day off, which was the first time I’d ever missed work or school because of insomnia. I’d previously mentioned to my boss that I had difficulty sleeping. He understood. He said there wasn’t much work to do that day anyway.
I was still taking dalmane, which didn’t help my situation much. It made me sleep, but it was not the deep, restorative sleep I needed. The fact that it made me want to kill people was not a good trade off for the poor quality of sleep it offered. I didn’t know it then, but dalmane was adding to my sleeplessness rather than helping it. Its half-life was long enough to cause the pint-up energy that I was not expending through physical exercise, which, in turn, caused me to be restless and jittery and, thus, sleepless.
Also, I relied on caffeine and sugar for energy during the day so I could function. But, then, at night I had residual effects from them which, when added to my sedentary lifestyle, caused even more problems. I proved many times that insomnia feeds on itself in a vicious cycle: Awake at night, take stimulants during the day, awake at night, take stimulants during the day. Day in, day out. I’ve read recently where scientists are now linking insomnia with shorter life spans. I certainly understand why.
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{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Mike,
I was wondering if you had ever seen this report that talked about the significance of sleep on testosterone production in men?
http://www.dailyrx.com/news-article/sleep-deprivation-reduces-young-mans-testosterone-levels-13882.html
Testosterone levels are critical for building strength, muscle mass, and bone density.
Hi, Frank,
No I haven’t. But thank you for bringing it to my attention. And thank you for your comment.