FOR THE NURSES ENTRY DELAYED. i AM SORRY

           

             

For the Nurses entry, I am still working on my Mothers arrival at Bed 17. My mind is trying to convey what she wished to expressed to me. Fuck, could you imagine what My Mom would have posted if she'd had internet>>>>?????

Damn, she would've controlled this!

Again, sorry for the delay in continuing....

I will write this out.

Mark william Darus

JUST TOUCHING BASE WITH YOU ALL

 Just wished to touch base on the Nurses Life entry which is basically the sharing of what my Mother told me about her experience in the Nursing Profession in the 1940's. I think this to be the hardest yet most enjoyable writing endeavor I have ever tried. Closing my eyes as I write, I feel I have been sent backward in time in the 1970's when my mother shared so much with me about her life.

Bare with me as the continuous could take a while...

I thank you all my FB friends but I must also thank those from another source.

Across our fragile Blue Marble I thank all that take the time to read what I write these last 7 day with a mere three posts.

United States

570

Sweden

283

Czechia

281

Finland

281

Hungary

247

Germany

231

Norway

201

Ireland

200

New Zealand

192

France

163

Luxembourg

156

United Kingdom

146

Spain

137

Canada

130

Australia

128

South Africa

120

Singapore

117

Portugal

92

Japan

90

Other

322

A NURSES LIFE, PART 2.

  

                  Part two of a Nurses life.

       A reprisal of part 1/

       I arrive at work at 2PM on a sunny July day.  The humidity is horrendous, stifling and causing my cotton clothing to stick to my body. Not liking this as I walk toward the Dark Foreboding place we call TURNEY TECH, I yank on my blouse to take the sticky/clingyness away from me. 

       While walking the pathway to the entrance, I notice a few crows squawking and eating something and squirrels doing laps around oak trees chasing and playing.   I smile at these things. The air, though humid, smelled clear. 

                  Enter the building of the Insane.

        When I walk into this place each and everyday, it takes me a while to adjust to the odor of this place. Everything smells like either shit or alcohol mixed with bleach.

         I do this 5 shifts a week and face this fucking hellhole and try to maintain some sense of dignity for our patients as well as myself. 

         This  so-called STATE Hospital is a horror show.  

         Before clocking in, I scope the lay of the land before me:  

          There's two people on the floor tossing around unattended by anyone except gawkers watching their bodies act like fish out of water.

           Okay, I think, just a normal day at work. I do my job requires me to do and clock in.

          My Head Nurse, Mary,  approaches me and says I am needed in bed  17 on this floor.

           17?!? I thought to myself , how lovely this shift will start...

           "Oh, God, what did he do this time?"

           Mary looked at me with a weird combination of sad and smiling expression, saying: "You'll see... Sorry, Marion..." 

         Sorry my ass.

          I wonder what a mere 50 steps down a stinky illuminated corridor I will encounter at Bed 17.

          While heading there, a visitor, somehow having fallen to the floor, grabs my right ankle, causing me to fall and smack the disgusting tile floor.  I gave an OUCH!  As I helped the fallen lady to rise, she apologized  and  I went about my shift. 

             Not really surprising for visitors to fall down in a place like this. So many wheelchairs covering the walls on both sides of  aisle ways where WWII injured taken outside their rooms to perhaps socialize with one another.  So many of these boys shattered, my heart cried out for them, more often than not  the staring with blank expressions  after having lost a leg/arm/eyesight as they served Our Country to protect us and others across the globe. 

         Heading, as my HeadNurse said I should do, my mind is thinking about something to make me happier. Perhaps an embrace from a man named Ted..

          Such dream wishes fall short as....

            I'm approached by a man I only am allowed to know as 'h' as I begin  my rounds.   I say "Hi H!" 

            "Mare, you need to get to 17!"  he says to me clearly as his so fragile body appears so tiny in a wheelchair after having lost both arms and legs during the D-day invasion on June 6th this year.  God love him! His mind and thinking is as clear as a bell. 

            "Thanks, H!' I saying, reaching down and giving him a hug. Feeling his scruffy face against mine, I say to him: "If I get a chance I'm gonna give you a shave."  

           "Mare, do I really need  a face lashing, darling?"  he said with a thick Scottish accent , a wicked smile mating his mouth to eyes for sincerity. 

          "Well,  Sir!  You most certainly do and I will do that for you."

                     END OF PART ONE OF THIS SERIES.

I thank you for reading,

              On to Part two of my Mothers sharing to me.

         My lord I will! I said in a strong Nurses voice that would gain respect of all except doctors as they believed themselves gods on Earth.  Doctors love to think they are the end-all be-all when it comes to human survival. Well, most of the them are pompous possessors of tiny penises and love to SHOUT AND BLAME NURSES.  

        Feeling a cough rising in my throat I gave out a nasty, flemingly cough as I  walked to Bed 17. 

       Bed 17 is both a horrific place yet sometimes amazing area to take care of. It's  dweller.  calling him 'S'. We called him S as his dogtags were barely left on him as most of his head was blown to bits during the D-Day invasion of Normandy. Seriously speaking, the MEDICS thought him a Nazi  wondering how he could still be alive. Apparently a few of his BOOTCAMP  buddies corrected the medics for his treatment instead of tossing him to the sands of death. 

       

 

What is a Nurses Life?

                          

                     

              What is a Nurses shift in their day to day life?

                   I would also add how they maintain the living and do so. 

            while we grumble about lack of supplies and other mundane elements.

                         This entry is for Nurses.

           Does it really matter if they be RN, LPN or newer titles created I have yet to gain an understanding of.

           A wee bit of my background with Nurses in my 61 years of life. 

          My Mother,  Marion F. Darus was a Nurse around WWII. She worked a few hospitals in her life before marrying my father where they in their union created my sisters and I. 

         She did a few years at a place called Turney Tech (which basically was a State Funded Mental Ward for the Insane.)  It was Officially called THE CLEVELAND STATE HOSPITAL.

             https://clevelandhistorical.org/items/show/576

        Oh, my, the stories of that time in her life she shared with me!

      Imagine being a Nurse in the 1940's.

      Imagine being a Nurse  treating those with mental illnesses during that era. Other than Frontal Lobotomies, morphine and other Opiates to sedate, how did she care for these ill patients under her care?

     Let's take a walk down a few roads my loving mother shared with me while I was quite young. Maybe she knew I'd write something for others while telling me what she dealt with every day for a few years. 

         This is written as I think my Mother would have wanted from her perspective.

     

        I arrive at work at 2PM on a sunny July day.  The humidity is horrendous, stifling and causing my cotton clothing to stick to my body. Not liking this as I walk toward the Dark Foreboding place we call TURNEY TECH, I yank on my blouse to take the sticky/clingyness away from me. 

       While walking the pathway to the entrance, I notice a few crows squawking and eating something and squirrels doing laps around oak trees chasing and playing.   I smile at these things. The air, though humid, smelled clear. 

                  Enter the building of the Insane.

        When I walk into this place each and everyday, it takes me a while to adjust to the odor of this place. Everything smells like either shit or alcohol mixed with bleach.

         I do this 5 shifts a week and face this fucking hellhole and try to maintain some sense of dignity for our patients as well as myself. 

         This  so-called STATE Hospital is a horror show.  

         Before clocking in, I scope the lay of the land before me:  

          There's two people on the floor tossing around unattended by anyone except gawkers watching their bodies act like fish out of water.

           Okay, I think, just a normal day at work. I do my job requires me to do and clock in.

          My Head Nurse, Mary,  approaches me and says I am needed in bed  17 on this floor.

           17?!? I thought to myself , how lovely this shift will start...

           "Oh, God, what did he do this time?"

           Mary looked at me with a weird combination of sad and smiling expression, saying: "You'll see... Sorry, Marion..." 

         Sorry my ass.

          I wonder what a mere 50 steps down a stinky illuminated corridor I will encounter at Bed 17.

          While heading there, a visitor, somehow having fallen to the floor, grabs my right ankle, causing me to fall and smack the disgusting tile floor.  I gave an OUCH!  As I helped the fallen lady to rise, she apologized  and  I went about my shift. 

             Not really surprising for visitors to fall down in a place like this. So many wheelchairs covering the walls on both sides of  aisle ways where WWII injured taken outside their rooms to perhaps socialize with one another.  So many of these boys shattered, my heart cried out for them, more often than not  the staring with blank expressions  after having lost a leg/arm/eyesight as they served Our Country to protect us and others across the globe. 

         Heading, as my HeadNurse said I should do, my mind is thinking about something to make me happier. Perhaps an embrace from a man named Ted..

          Such dream wishes fall short as....

            I'm approached by a man I only am allowed to know as 'h' as I begin  my rounds.   I say "Hi H!" 

            "Mare, you need to get to 17!"  he says to me clearly as his so fragile body appears so tiny in a wheelchair after having lost both arms and legs during the D-day invasion on June 6th this year.  God love him! His mind and thinking is as clear as a bell. 

            "Thanks, H!' I saying, reaching down and giving him a hug. Feeling his scruffy face against mine, I say to him: "If I get a chance I'm gonna give you a shave."  

           "Mare, do I really need  a face lashing, darling?"  he said with a thick Scottish accent , a wicked smile mating his mouth to eyes for sincerity. 

          "Well,  Sir!  You most certainly do and I will do that for you."

                     END OF PART ONE OF THIS SERIES.

I thank you for reading,

Love and Hugs to you all!

-MARK WILLIAM DARUS

PS: This before placing this on FB. 

 Call this an author editor share...

  About a Nurses Life: Part 1

Regarding Nurses. from a post a few days back when I asked for feedback...

I thank those that shared life aspects about Nurses. The three of you that cared enough to take the time and share fueled my fire to write what I started today,

Thanks to

Katheryn M. Womack

Nancy Shea

Yvette Leerdam

As I wrote this latest entry, barely getting glimpse of thought of something to run with, the image of my late Mother smacked me in the face!

I swear to God it was her, my mother, the smartest human I have ever known.

Her image/soul approached me, my heart doing catapults before her wondrous being.

She told me to calm down as she took me into her arms after decades without such glorious embrace.

"Just write what I shared with you my son listening to talk radio many decades ago .

Just tell the truth when you express your thoughts and NEVER, ,my son be afraid when you do so! Some may like you, many more might hate you. My Son, Mark, I would've given a hundred female births to grant you life from my body.

My son, you've many a gift and you know those at your age.

Keep running with them, my boy..... Just write and to some it will make sense and others not. Son, that IS how life works.

My Mothers image began to fade away from me granting me a video from a band named Edens Bridgel.,

I DEDICATE THIS ENTRY TO MARION F DARUS.

Love you mom

Saturday, September 2, 2023

What is a Nurses Life?

What is a Nurses shift in their day to day life?

I would also add how they maintain the living and do so.

while we grumble about lack of supplies and other mundane elements.

This entry is for Nurses.

Does it really matter if they be RN, LPN or newer titles created I have yet to gain an understanding of.

A wee bit of my background with Nurses in my 61 years of life.

My Mother, Marion F. Darus was a Nurse around WWII. She worked a few hospitals in her life before marrying my father where they in their union created my sisters and I.

She did a few years at a place called Turney Tech (which basically was a State Funded Mental Ward for the Insane.) It was Officially called THE CLEVELAND STATE HOSPITAL.

https://clevelandhistorical.org/items/show/576

Oh, my, the stories of that time in her life she shared with me!

Imagine being a Nurse in the 1940's.

Imagine being a Nurse treating those with mental illnesses during that era. Other than Frontal Lobotomies, morphine and other Opiates to sedate, how did she care for these ill patients under her care?

Let's take a walk down a few roads my loving mother shared with me while I was quite young. Maybe she knew I'd write something for others while telling me what she dealt with every day for a few years.

This is written as I think my Mother would have wanted from her perspective.

                    

                                

 

          

           

           

        

         

       

    

          

    

         

        

        

 

Trying to make my WorkPlace Happier...

   Trying to make my Workplace Happier...

              Whoaaa babies

Got my shirt today to ROCK this Friday's Bright Shirt Day at work. .

Note: Bright Shirt Fridays is NOT endorsed by CS as it was something I decided to run with to brighten spirits and lighten the hearts of my coworkers.

Nope, not going to give a glance at it, so you'll just have to wait. MUHAHAHAHA!

My wife loves it, or so she said <good wives often indulge the stupidity of their husbands when they like them>. Oddly, she quickly started gagging, descending toward the 'dry heaves' when I put it on .

Hmmmmm? Is she lying when she said she 'loved' it???

>>>>NOW, A MESSAGE FROM MY SPONSOR<<<<

At URLINE, we believe your experience at work is most important! We wish to give your employer a vast area to explore and create harmony and safety in the WORKPLACE. We offer a massive array of shelving, benches and ergonomics like no one else on the planet!

That being said we now offer a a plethora of CONDOM designs to fit every need! Be it a random meeting at a bar or just a married couple not wishing to spawn too soon, WE GOT YOUR BACK! (OR FRONT?)

We feeling we perform a function needed by employees, we are also there for the company they work. Less, pregnancies translates to better worker output and less time off, thus granting you more productivity!

We think we're a TOTAL AND COMPLETE WIN-WIN FOR ALL!

URLINE BELIEVES IN GROWTH, yet not too much!

>>>> END OF SPONSOR COMMERCIAL<<<

Just to let you all know...

Except the Shirt thing, and no my wife did not gag,

I MADE THIS WHOLE THING UP.

I so love create fake commercials....

It was my wish to make you laugh, or just go (WHAT THE PHUQ?!?!)

Love and hugs,

-Mark, FLYINGSCOOTER and SQUIRREL -BRO!

LETZ ALL MAKE BRIGHT SHIRT FRIDAYS A TRADITION!

I thank HAWKEYE, for leading us by example to a bright future in morale and how I felt inspired by him!    This was quickly deleted from my company wall. Oh, well. Fuck them if they don't understand comical writing.... That is why I share my thoughts on FB and here first. 

    Thank you for taking your time to read this.

       As ever and running FORWARD!

      very truly yours,

       -Mark

    

               Met some asshole after work today.

         What he shared sent me backward 

            to a piece I wrote some 11 years ago.     

                      WARNING: THIS IS A LONG READ FOR YOU.

HUGS AND LOVE FROM ME.

Met some asshole in line at Speedway on Lakeshore and Vine st after work this morning after I got my wife House Blend coffee and me a 6 of Great Lakes IPA then stepping to the LINE.

He, upset about the length of the line, rambled about how he needed to get home to his family )))all this fucker had was a case of PEPSI and a 6 of Bud Light(((. He was grumbling and such and I said: "Chill, man. The issue is all the Idiots going for lottery tickets slowing shit down. It's not the staff."

He than said something I still have a hard time believing.

"Hey shithead! I gotta keep my bitch happy, got two kids with her and don't wanna write them off like my other two kids because of bitch!"

Flabbergasted, feeling a stress to use my mouth carefully, I said to him, "is there anyway I can help?"

He was then called toward a check-out person, the smell of burning hot dogs and other roller items catching hold of me. Yeah, we are in a Speedway after all...

As he finished paying for his items, he glanced at me and said this: "I hope you never make the same mistakes I have."

I nodded to him, thanking him for the advice and wished him the best....

This hit the WAYBACK MACHINE for me as I wrote something about like via friends/coworkers life-sharing's. this some 11 years ago....

This is what I wrote then.

Titled:

Deadbeat parents: Fuck you, I've got a new family.

The term Deadbeat parent, by most aspects of society, only deals in monetary values. What of the emotional destruction to the kids as their parents so easily forget them?

Ever wonder how a man could completely turn his back on his kids after spending years with them? They appear to be a near perfect, highly attentive father and husband. Neighbors would consider him devoted to his family: Sisters and brothers might say ‘this marriage and being a daddy has done him a world of good.’

I do not imply that all these men/women are Psychopaths, but one must wonder.

How is it these men/women can so effortlessly turn their backs on their own? Do they feel any guilt, shame or remorse? I have to think they don’t or can’t. One has to have a serious lack of emotion to do such a thing and ditch those they supposedly loved or at least gave an illusion to all those around them that they cared in the first place.

These is no statistical information about this: I am simply putting a theory of my own observations out there in the hopes to get responses based on personal events. Be it the child that was coldly blown off or the parent that did the distancing.

I do not subscribe to the bullshit lines we all hear so often: I just can’t stand to see that bitch! I’d rather be without the kids than deal with her. He was unfaithful and he back stabbed me to get the kids, so fuck him, let him deal with it. I need to move past this and go forward. I being proactive and take this as just a phase in life.

My favorite line: I’ve got a new family now and I need to work on that…

These people are twisted in the highest order, and therefore, deserve some examination.

How is it their new mates cannot see the simple, glaring fact: If they did this to those before them, what makes them think the same will not occur again?

Love conquers all? This new love is better, and will last. I’d never treat him/her like their ex, and they’ll appreciate it all the more and stay with me and my kids. I’m a much better lover! Who in their right mind would walk away from that?

They so readily fall for this person that ‘sacrificed their own kids to be with me and mine.’ They tell there friends this, and so willingly believe it they have little idea what they are getting into.

These people have become the new, soon to be abused, next conquest for the Psychopath. And they are taking their kids in tow into this world of lies and disorder. God, or some higher power help them if they have a child by this person as nothing can create such an emotional wasteland like that of the predator.

Granted, this is not always the case as some people are so emotionally fucked up and scarred that they simply don’t know their own mind and are fools to love and the feeling it gives them. This works both ways as both can give up their own for something they believe lacking in their lives and wish for something new, so bright and shining: to make them feel alive and important again.

Let me state this: I pass no judgment on these people. The Psychopathic or the wandering fools that place a ‘new love’ above all else. They both leave scars on all those involved and place themselves above all else. They are both equally selfish and are sociopaths in various levels of degree. Small wonder the children of these human train wrecks grow up with bonding issues with peers, teachers and authority in general.

They have been betrayed by those they loved the most: their own parent. Distance can hurt and kill a Childs development. These kids can feel so badly as they think they did something so horribly wrong to make the parent that cut them out of their young lives. With guilt, shame, and some lack on their part, they grow up with these thoughts that only grow larger with each passing year that it does not get addressed.

Perhaps they waste all emotions in their young lives. The past they’ve lived with takes over, the hurt encompasses them, a futility in the most innocent of love and they grow like a house built on sand versus good bedrock. They grow cold, slowly losing touch with the good things, like tossing a ball with dad or baking cookies with mom. Feeling nothing is better than feeling good to be hurt someday.

As mom/dad bring some new person into their lives, and seeing this happen repeatedly, they get a feeling that love is merely temporary and grow with that knowledge. After all, one parent left them for some other family and forgot about them. Left them with nothing, or worse, a lame explanation: You’ll understand when you grow up…

They will get older. With that getting older they have learned the value of relationships: They are Bic Lighters. A flame that burns briefly and when it passes, just toss it out and get a new one.

When I volunteered for a youth center for a span of about 5 years, hearing teens talk about their parents and those that left them: the myriad of relationships the custodial parent had, they got the feeling, ‘fuck it, just go find somebody else’.

Emotions? These kids have little need for things that brought them pain. Get close to someone that will be gone in a space of months.

I believe this is where a new generation of Psychopaths are born.

Keep this in mind, and again I state, 4% of the people of the United States are Psychopaths. This accounts for roughly 3 to 4 million people. This number is growing with each generation. Mostly nonviolent sociopaths, they have a strong sense of this: Fuck them before they fuck you. Ditch the bitch before she drops the hammer on me. I’ll take him for what I can before he’s unfaithful to me and chucks me to the curb.

They learn to use others with little or no remorse. They use this skill in school, relationships and jobs as they progress through life. These kids have a cold, dead look in their eyes, a ‘soulless look’ when questioned about an action they did.

They lose all hope over time with so many failed relationships on their parents part. They feel somehow to blame for this. This happens because most fucked up parents would find it easier to blame them instead of themselves for ’this’ relationship dying.

And this seems to start with one of their biological parents splitting and cutting them off without so much as a goodbye.

If this child’s issues are ignored, neglected or compounded by the staying parents inability to take responsibility for their own actions, they will grow with a cracked-mirrored look at life.

Monkey see, monkey do.

Where do we go from here???

                              How far does this go???

           Transgender in Society today.

       Hi everyone! Just another thought from me,,,

At what point have we reached in our lives in society when considering the insane/irrational behaviors of others that becomes a rational way of thinking that is forced on us all to fuckingly embrace understand it an

d praise and acknowledge their strength for proclaiming they as they would call us haters for our beliefs?!?

I guess WOKE means nothing to many of us in how they think of us,,,

<<<<< GOING FORWARD<<<<<<<

Where is IT okay for a clearly male student in a junior high school to be able to stroll into the girls room and think it's okay as he HAVING the RIGHT TO DO??? WOULD THE SCHOOL ADMINSTRATORS say to the 12-15 year old girls how it's okay as he may have a PENIS (PERHAPS SPECULATE) he's not really going to use it against you. so it's okay!,,,

Imagine a school girls swim team when a student formerly known as Henry, now called Twila Night (born male, 5 inches taller than the girls, previously failed try outs for the mens team opted for change in sexual venue.

HOW MANY OF YOU WOULD FIND THIS ACCEPTABLE???

But hey, all's okay these days as all can be what they want so long as be accepted....

I AM THE SON OF MARION AND TED DARUS, GRANDCHILD OF ORLON AND JENNY STURDIVANT.

I really don't think they'd think highly of this shift in culture and education.

Thanks for reading,

Mark, mark in honing, FLYINGSCOOTER and a squirrel/.

         GOING BROKE WHEN YOU WENT WOKE: THE DEATH OF BUD LITE AND DECLINE OF ANHEUSER BUSCH. 

Hi all

Just throwing this out there for consideration and would like feedback if you could grant me such. If uncomfortable, share your thoughts in a FB MSG, and I promise your name will never be shown though your comments would.

I wish to write an article about the death of a Brand that was the number 1 Leader in Beer Sales for nearly 20 years in the United States. Being highly respected for its light-hearted and hilarious TV and Radio commercials it totally controlled, sustained their share to the sales of Beer in the USA. >I knew so many watching the Super Bowl more for the commercials than the actually game itself. <

My working title is called: Going Broke when WOKE: The Death of BUD LIGHT and the Decline of Anheuser Busch .

They losing over $28 Billion in Market Value in just 5 months when they marketed and endorsed a man/woman-wish-to-be named Dylan Mulvaney that had over 10 million followers that, about 80%, of which were well under the United States drinking age for beer consumption.

Thanks for reading this.

I hope I get some feedback on this.

The first beer I ever drank was a Budweiser on a family vacation at a place called Bakers Motel in Ohio. I was about 6-8 years old. Mom would go to the bathroom, be called by my sisters, and I'd grab what she was drinking and guzzle it. (this occurred for a long while....) SOO HAPPY MEMORIES OF A TIME SO FAR AGO! (I am crying as I write this as I miss my parents so very much,)

>>> SIDENOTE: At the Bakers Motel we would always have adjoining rooms, one for my elder sisters and I'd stay with my parents. <<<<

Eventually mom thought my Father was doing her beer and she snapped at him: "DAMN IT, TED! THE COOLER IS IN BETWEEN US! STOP DRINKING MY BEER!!!"

Dad said to her: "Honey, I haven't touched your beer!'"

It was around then they began looking around our room , and from what my parents told me, much later on, found me sitting in a corner and giggling for no apparent reason and trying to figure out how to walk in a straight line.

This being said: Budweiser contains a memory in my Heart.

I guess like giants they must fall....

Thanks for reading.

Hugs and love to all

FLYINGSCOOTER, MARK IN HONING

Teach the Workers to be players unlike any other company, Conn-Selmer.

             

                   My Proposal to my company.  The last Brass Musical Co in America.

  

       I work at Conn-Selmer in Eastlake, Ohio USA. We are the LAST brass musical instrument manufacture  in the USA. We Hand-Craft (seriously speaking, everything we do is HandCrafted like the Amish only nothing we do tastes like cheese. ) 

      In my 7 years there I've worked in a few departments though mostly in the Honing Dept. In honing we work about a 0.0002 tolerance, which is saying this: Take a hair from your head and slice it into a hundred width sections. 

       All of us at Conn-Selmer work to our abilities.  

     I believe that is something to be proud of in all regards. 

     Our hands create a childs musical dreams an attempt for reality. 

     What parent or grand parent wouldn't wish their own to have the right tool for the job and make them desire to learn and rock on further?!?! 

                      This is what I sent to Conn-Selmer on their Corporate Community wall: 

          Ever want and desire a new aspect of training in a workplace that by far would exceed anything you've ever known?

Have you ever thought you'd work in a place that has the ability to teach you so much about music from professional musicians?

Sure, you and I all make the components of the Trumpets, Trombones, Sousa ,Tuba and French Horns and Rough Hone their valves and pistons, Polish and buff them to eventually be sent from the lacquer oven going toward Final Assembly.

Would our Company consider this proposal?

Imagine our family of workers spending an hour (unpaid) after work to be taught to play the instruments we make.

Think about it for a moment...

Is there another company on Earth that could offer this???

I think not, but let us think further...

Imagine an intern program of dedicated Local High School student marching band players learning the 'nuts and bolts' of the AX they wield before a crowd.

I'd absolutely express the Play Testers should be paid for their instruction to others if they are willing and have the time to schedule it into their lives.

I think many of us would love this as a benefit as few of us have any real inclination as to how our End Products impacts Globally. >>what that solder joint translates at the end.. that polish/wiping impacts the Final Assembly aspect.<<<

Conn-Selmer Cooperate, what do you think of my proposal?

Sincerely,

Mark in Honing, Eastlake Ohio.