PennSilverTaco's "Perfect 5-Lug Regular Cab" Build, Aspergers, and General BS MegaThread!

I'll also add that some degree of depression tends to piggy back on OCD and other forms of anxiety. Often times it's a package deal.

 

High-functioning autism is autism, and Asperger's is, or was, just on the spectrum. That's the difference in my opinion.

As for keeping a job, actually keeping the job was not the issue. Putting up with bullshit from bosses and coworkers alike was the issue I had. I worked at CVS for two years, from 2006 to 2008, but that was through my high school (I'll tell you more about that later). I finally got my first real job on my own without any help from a school or service provider in October 2013, and that lasted about two weeks (Again, that'll get it's own post). I had another job in November 2013 that lasted one day, because my boss was a dick, plain and simple. In December 2014, I was offered a job at a bar by my friend who was the general manager of that bar, and neither of us expected it to last long as it did (Coming up on almost 2½ years now)!

 

My boss would love you. I'm a good worker, but I tend to get distracted and chit-chat, and she gets pissed at me because of this...

 

While we are analytical thinkers, we're not all analytical in the same way. My SiL was picked up by Google and she does fantastic work. Me, on the other hand continues to struggle to finish college due to the formatting.

 

DSM-V changed the definition and the means of diagnosis. "Asperger Syndrome" used to be its own thing, but now it is lumped in with "Autism Spectrum Disorder," of which there are MANY (but I think they define like... maybe 5?). It's like a waiter asking how you want your beef cooked. Asperger's is now considered "High-Functioning Autism." I've worked with children ont he spectrum for the past decade. in working with them, I learned a lot about myself which eventually led to a battery of testing which revealed that I too, am on the spectrum.

 

Absolutely not. Five of my closest friends (three guys, two girls; ages 23-30) have Asperger's Syndrome, but I can name four close friends who definitely do not have it. I also consider my coworkers at the bar where I work a second family. Every single one of them knows I have Asperger's.

 

In late 1998, when I was 9 years and in the 4th grade. My parents decided not to come right out and tell me because they thought I'd be too young to understand. I found out I had Asperger's by accident in like August 2000, right before I was about to start 6th grade. It was when my parents were enrolling me in the local middle school (Oak Harbor Middle School, @Navelfunk), and I went snooping through my my mom's files/folders. There it was, literally right there: "Charlie has Asperger's Syndrome"

I kid you not...

I came right out and told my what I'd done, apologized, and then demanded to know what Asperger's Syndrome was ans why she and my dad hadn't told me. She wasn't mad and gladly told me.

About 7 or 8 years later, not long after I had graduated from high school... I blatantly and flat out asked my mom if she'd done anything while pregnant with me that could cause me to have Asperger's, and that really upset her, but she told she in fact hadn't. My mom is pretty straight-edge, BTW. I also asked her if there was a history of ASD in the family, and there definitely wasn't

The "take-no-bullshit" attitude, however, most certainly does run in the family. My Great-Great Grandfather, an Italian immigrant, once got attacked by mafia thugs and ended up getting arrested himself when he went after them with razor blades he had up his sleeve (He was a barber).

 

Putting up with bosses and co-workers is usually the worst part of any job. It's great to be vindicated by when you quit and the place folds up and goes out of business. Or in the case of government work, the unit folds up and goes away. I could write a book on those experiences.

The best thing about quitting a miserable job is you should always have in the back of your mind "good luck replacing me!"

Crappy work experiences should have it's own thread.

 

@DustStorm4x4
@Plain Jane Taco
@LocoLocal
@Iamraiderpower
@ChadsPride

My first real job (that I got myself) was at a fairly new Dunkin Donuts. If I remember correctly, I filled out an application and left it with the girl working the counter that day. She in turn handed it to the regional manager, who called me up a couple days later, and asked me to come in for an interview. I dressed up nice, ran my Tacoma through the car wash on the way there, and blasted Great White on my then-new Pioneer stereo to pump myself up for the interview...

Within five minutes of walking into the place, I had the job. The fact that the regional manager hired me on the spot should have been a red flag. I told him I COULD NOT work on specific days because I was in college, and he was fine with that. He wanted me to start at 6am, and I said no way. He said "Fine, 7am." I started out at almost $9 an hour or something, which was at least better than minimum wage.

I was so excited starting my first real job that I barely slept the night before. I hopped in the Tacoma, drove into work, and was handed a brown apron. At the bar where I work now, the uniforms are basically ours to keep. At Dunkin, you were not allowed to bring your apron off the premises except when bringing it home to wash.

The most obvious problem was the language barrier. The manager who hired me, the owner of that specific Dunkin Donuts franchise, and all of the morning shift employees... All from India. Only the manager spoke decent English. First off, I would like to say that I am the most accepting and tolerant guy in the world. I only see nice people and assholes, and the color of somebody's skin does not matter to me in the slightest. All of the employees working the early shift at that Dunkin Donuts spoke some English, and what does annoy me is when people from a foreign country talk in their native tongue in front of me when they can speak enough English to carry on a conversation with me. I'm paranoid that they're talking about me! Even when they were talking to me, their accent was so thick that I could barely understand them.

The manager realized the problem and temporarily put me on the afternoon shift to train with who he described as a "white girl" (Translation=Someone who speaks English). So, I was having to work my morning shift from 7am until noon, bullshit around for a couple hours, and then come back and train with the one employee at the time who spoke decent English!

On top of that, my grades at college started to suffer, and I was forced to drop a required math class. At least the manager of Dunkin Donuts was nice enough to let me take off to go to car shows on weekends.

The incident that influenced my decision to quit was a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time...

There was less than an hour left in my shift that day, and it was slow. I noticed there was a sweet lifted Silverado in the parking lot, and I had my Nikon in my Tacoma, so I told one of my coworkers that I wanted to take a few pictures of the custom truck in the parking lot and he was fine with it. I had absolutely no idea the manager was supposed to come in that day. I grabbed my camera from the Tacoma and started taking pictures of the truck. The manager had a late model Toyota Camry, and I knew his car. He pulls into the parking behind the Dunkin Donuts and looks right at me. He was obviously in a very heated phone conversation, and the volume was up loud enough that I could hear most of the conversation over the Camry's Bluetooth. He was obviously pissed well before he showed up, but I was the perfect scapegoat for his anger. He hangs up the phone, gets out of his car, and starts ranting and raving at me for goofing off on my shift (First offense ever in 2 weeks working there; 30 minutes left in shift). He then demands that I follow him into the shop and make him a so-and-so latte with so-and-so in it. I do not do too well when someone is standing right over me screaming in my ear, and my attempt at a drink was a snafu. Keep in mind for the last two weeks, his idea of training me had been studying the menus above the display cases, and watching coworkers. I'd also occasionally been working two shifts in a day so I could train with the only English-speaking employee who worked there at the time!

He gave me Sunday off to go to a car show, but gave me an ultimatum. If I proved myself, I'd get to keep my weekday shift. If I was less than perfect, I'd be moved to the less-desirable weekend shift. On Monday, I quit via text message without even giving my two weeks, and his response was "okay."

After almost month of getting the run-around, and being told that my check had been mailed and I should have gotten it already, I actually had to threaten the manager over the phone. If I remember correctly, I told him that if I didn't get my the $180 or so dollars I was owed within a week, the next phone call he'd be getting would be from my lawyer (I am friends with a few very good lawyers, so this wasn't a lie). I got my paycheck within 2 days, and I vowed to never work at an eating establishment of any kind, ever again. Turns out that was a lie, because look where I work now!

 

@Plain Jane Taco
@LocoLocal
@Iamraiderpower
@ChadsPride
@DustStorm4x4

The same day I applied at Dunkin Donuts, I went next door and applied at a family-run deli. I knew the owner because I'd interviewed him and his wife for a college project. Almost a month after I gave him an application, and at least a week after I quit Dunkin Donuts, I got a call from him saying he was short-staffed and was willing to "give me a try." I asked him if I needed to dress a certain way. He said that casual was fine and an apron would be provided. I hopped in the Tacoma and got there ten minutes early. I was given a plain white apron (not like the stylish brown one with the DD logo on it I'd gotten Dunkin Donuts), and given a tour. I got along great with my fellow employees and the owner, and I actually enjoyed the jobs I was given. Then, things changed. After closing, the owner became a slave driver, swearing at employees, and then I had a quasi-panic attack when I tasked with washing dishes... They kept piling dishes in front of me and I wasn't moving fast enough.

The owner just told it wouldn't work and told me to leave. I calmly took off my apron, walked out the door, and got in my Tacoma...

It is worth noting that this place had a gravel parking lot.

I threw my Tacoma in drive, buried the accelerator pedal, and kicked up a nice rooster-tail of gravel and other debris behind the truck as I peeled out of the parking lot. There's no way in hell they didn't see me do this. The next day, I realized I'd left my hooded sweatshirt hanging in the employee coat room and went back to get it. Owner was all smiles and sunshine and gladly let me go back to get it when I showed up... No hard feelings... Must be a full moon/after dark thing?

It is also worth noting that I have a 2010 Tacoma, so even though it's a base model, I have the electronic limited-slip differential and not just a regular open diff!

About a year and half later, the place went out of business, the owners went bankrupt, and they lost everything, including their house...

 

That's a good description. Sometimes it's not a negative for me, because it goes hand-in-hand with a strong attention to detail.

Other times, it's just frustrating. I KNOW I don't really need to triple-check something, but I won't sleep that night unless I do.

Granted, I don't really think I have OCD--just some of the tendencies generally associated with it.

 

This is so true. Aight, back to reading

 

Me after that drunk asshole hit my truck:

 

I've been running non-stop this week trying to find a guy who once tried to kill me and is now threatening acts of domestic terrorism.

Sometimes TR helps:

"A soft, easy life is not worth living, if it impairs the fiber of brain and heart and muscle.
We must dare to be great; and we must realize that greatness is ...the fruit of toil and sacrifice and high courage...
For us is the life of action, of strenuous performance of duty; let us live in the harness, striving mightily;
let us rather run the risk of wearing out than rusting out."
--Teddy Roosevelt

And this prayer is taped to the back of my badge:
I bring this prayer to You, Lord
For You alone can give
What one cannot demand from oneself.
Give me, Lord, what You have left over,
Give me what no-one ever asks You for.
I don't ask You for rest, or quiet,
Whether of soul or body;
I don't ask You for wealth,
Nor for success, nor even health perhaps.
That sort of thing You get asked for so much
That You can't have any of it left.
Give me, Lord, what You have left over,
Give me what no-one wants from You.
I want insecurity, strife,
And I want You to give me these
Once and for all.
So that I can be sure of having them always,
Since I shall not always have the courage
To ask You for them.
Give me, Lord, what You have left over,
Give me what others want nothing to do with.
But give me courage too,
And strength and faith;
For You alone can give
What one cannot demand from oneself.

 

You're not from Wisconsin, by any chance, are you? Are you trying to catch the guy I've been hearing about on the news. Either way, going after terrorists domestic or foreign makes you a badass in my books!

 

Yes, I'm from WI and yes it is they guy you have heard about.

http://www.wkow.com/story/35100560/...s-past-crime-prompted-police-security-upgrade

And I'm far from a badass, but I've worked with a few.

 

My fellow Tacoma owners are an extended family to me, and the fact that this terrorist directly threatened one of them makes me want you to catch him even more!

 

@Plain Jane Taco
@LocoLocal
@Iamraiderpower
@ChadsPride

In May or June 2008, I broke my right elbow (specifically, I fractured the radial head). I was 19 years old. Almost 9 years later, I still can't completely straighten my right arm.

What's amazing is that I did not initially know I broke my elbow, and did not realize the extent of my injuries for three days or so. It all started when I randomly looked under my bed and found the Sony Cybershot point-and-shoot digital camera (19th birthday present from my parents) that had been missing for months. I grabbed and excitedly ran down the hall yelling "Mom! I found my camera!" I was so excited that I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, tripped over a clothes hamper in the hallway, and went flying. I landed on my right elbow hard (not the first time I landed on either elbow), and I immediately noticed that it hurt more than when I fallen in similar ways. I thought there was no way it could be broken because it did not hurt THAT bad and I could still move it. My mom agreed, and so did my dad. I went about my normal routine, even riding my bike with one arm, and going to work at CVS and doing some fairly heavy lifting. It was not until a few days after the fall that I noticed the skin in my elbow area had turned purple and my arm was literally locked in a semi-bent position. It didn't hurt anymore though. I texted some pictures to my friend Emily, an EMT; She told me she'd suffered a fractured radial head when she fell of her horse when she was 14, and her arm looked exactly the same as mine did at that moment. I still didn't think it was broken but knew I should go to a doctor and I showed my parents. They agreed. We were going to Virginia Beach for a week for a family reunion at a rented beachfront house in June, and my biggest fear was that it actually was broken and I'd be spending most of the summer in a cast. A cast would mean not being able to go in the ocean during our stay in Virginia Beach. I still didn't think it was broken. One annoying thing about my longtime personal care physician is that neither of his two locations have x-ray machines. My mom had to take me to another place with an x-ray machine to get my elbow x-rayed. When I finally got the damn x-ray done, my arm looked fine. Any layperson (Translation: Not an orthopedist or any kind of medical professional) would agree with me. I'm thinking "Okay, sweet! Sprain! A few days or maybe a week in a brace or a sling of some sort and then I'll be fine."

The next part of my story is a perfect example of why I hate bureaucracy! The x-ray technician was this short middle-aged woman, and she made it obvious that she knew the extent of my injuries but wouldn't tell us. Why? Because she "wasn't a doctor," basically "wasn't licensed to diagnose injuries based on x-rays," and could "get lose her job or even get sued if she did." I. HATE. BUREAUCRACY!

So my mom gets on the phone with my doctor, who by now has gotten a copy of my x-rays faxed to him, and confirmed to my absolute shock and surprise that my elbow was in fact broken. My doctor (who I still use for routine checkups and think is awesome) wasn't equipped for any kind of orthopedic situation, so he recommended an orthopedic clinic in Montgomery County that would accept my dad's health insurance. My parents and I still hadn't found the fracture by the time we got out to the orthopedic center, but the orthopedist pointed it out as easily as I can point out the subtle different between the front fascias on a 2010 Tacoma and a 2011 Tacoma.

Treatment: No cast to my ABSOLUTE RELIEF; 6 weeks in a sling; No driving a car for at least a month (didn't really matter because I wasn't driving yet; Tacoma was over a year away); No going in the ocean (I blatantly disobeyed the doctor's orders and went in the water anyway while we were in Virginia Beach; My elbow healed perfectly but I still can't completely straighten it. I think it gives me character... LOL like the slightly widened gap between the tailgate and the left rear fender on my Tacoma that's left over from the drunk driver hitting me. I still say my Tacoma had a better outcome. I drove it for almost 2 months before finally getting the insurance money to fix it, then it only spent three days in the shop.

 

I think Nissan makes the ugliest minivan in North America (Taken in Doylestown on April 12th, 2017):