BAD DAY AT THE OFFICE

This is even funnier when you realize it's real! The next

time you have a bad day at work... think of this guy.

Bob is a commercial saturation diver for Global Divers

in Louisiana. He performs underwater repairs on

offshore drilling rigs.

Below is an E-mail he sent to his sister. She then sent

it to radio station 103.2 on FM dial in Ft. Wayne,

Indiana, who was sponsoring a worst job experience

contest. Needless to say, she won.

Hi Sue:

Just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother.

Last week I had a bad day at the office. I know

you've been feeling down lately at work, so I thought I

would share my dilemma with you to make you realize

it's not

so bad after all.

Before I can tell you what happened to me, I first

must bore you with a few technicalities of my job. As

you know, my office lies at the bottom of the sea. I

wear a suit to the office. It's a wet suit. This time of

year the water is quite cool. So what we do to keep

warm is this:

We have a diesel powered industrial water heater.

This $20,000 piece of equipment sucks the water out

of the sea. It heats it to a delightful temperature. It

then pumps it down to the diver through a garden hose,

which is taped to the air hose. Now this sounds like a

darn good plan, and I've used it several times with no

complaints. What I do, when I get to the bottom and

start working, is take the hose and stuff it down the

back of my wet suit. This floods my whole suit with

warm water. It's like working in a Jacuzzi.

Everything was going well until all of a sudden, my butt

started to itch. So, of course, I scratched it. This only

made things worse. Within a few seconds my butt

started to burn.

I pulled the hose out from my back, but the damage was

done. In agony I realized what had happened. The hot

water machine had sucked up a jellyfish and pumped it

into my suit.

Now, since I don't have any hair on my back, the jelly

fish couldn't stick to it. However, the crack of my butt

was not as fortunate. When I scratched what I thought

was an itch, I was actually grinding the jellyfish into

the crack of my butt.

I informed the dive supervisor of my dilemma over the

communicator. His instructions were unclear due to the

fact that he, along with five other divers, was all

laughing hysterically.

Needless to say I aborted the dive. I was instructed

to make three agonizing in-water decompression stops,

totaling thirty-five minutes before I could reach the

surface to begin my chamber dry decompression.

When I arrived at the surface, I was wearing nothing

but my brass helmet. As I climbed out of the water,

the medic, with tears of laughter running down his face,

handed me a tube of cream and told me to rub it on my

butt as soon as I got in the chamber. The cream put the

fire out, but I couldn't poop for two days because my

butt was swollen shut.