CHAPTER 9
(Spencer Cohn is the REAL deal)
I got half of my refresher money back but the evil witch was sure to tax it heavily despite that $750 initially coming out of my pocket. In all of my life it was my very first time going on unemployment. I had done nothing wrong. I was still traumatized that after working 9 months for Cocalico Distribution Mrs. M couldn't even use benign terminology such as "we have to let you go" or "we have to dismiss you". No, no, no. This stair company was indeed as old school as it gets. Mrs. M was sure to announce these verbatim words. "I'm TERMINATING YOU!" All I could picture in my mind when she said it was Arnold in a T-2 movie pointing a sawed off shotgun right in my face. And in actuality how had I lost my job? If truth be told. I was institutionalize from all my time behind bars. The "Bro Code" had ultimately costed me a very good paying job. His name was Nathan. He was just a 19 year old kid. I covered for him several times because I knew he had a probation officer which was breathing down his neck a heck of a lot more than mine ever was at least when it came to maintaining employment anyways. And I had two probation officers! Carlos for my Federal Crime and some Hispanic little dude for my hang up at FlaggerForce.
Because I was Blake Steidler the unemployment referee didn't find it imperative that my unemployment hearing get recorded so I secretly made sure to record it with my smart phone. My FlaggerForce experience had helped me to learn never to trust a single word out of ANYBODY's mouth. I found myself giggling at bumper stickers I read saying "You don't REALLY know a woman until you see her in court." I was sure that the "Water Boy" movie was more than just an entertaining comedy. Women were in fact "the devil".
My hands shook as I read the rejection letter from the unemployment office. How had I lost when I thought I won? I was so confused. I still remember my big heavy dispatcher exacerbating my meetings with Mrs. M by mentioning the additional three cents it would cost the company for the copy of my incident she was requesting. The real reason I got fired was because my scotch drinking dispatcher never had any intentions of keeping me in the first place. He struck me as the "been here" and "done that" type. Although I never mentioned the "carrot and sticks" the Obama campaign had introduced me to I secretly knew that my dispatcher knew all along I was under my 9 month trial work period for SSDI and he had a sneaky Pete plan to counter it.
Matt (My Dispatcher) knew he couldn't fire me from the door or "the juice " would be left on and I'd go back to my happy days of waking up to a cute little pugapoo hopping on my lap while my dad was at work. No, no, no. My very first dispatcher “Mr. S”, the same guy that begged Durawood many times to be laid off had a special plan for this every weekend Hollywood pony player. He had a plan to not only fire me, but to see to it Queen B issue me my walking papers!!!!
The imaginary beach ball I always pictured in my mind hadn't touched the sand just yet but it was constantly nipping the top of the net due to my newly found gambling addiction introduced to me by my green eyed little brother. I had never gambled prior to the age of 31 and had never stepped foot into a casino. In fact, the very first time my brother's boss invited me to Atlantic City I declined. I stayed home and pet Arnie while my folks went with my lil brother to AC to watch the boss man increase his pay by quite a bit at the card table. As if my newly found casino habit wasn't a problem I was now stuck living on only $150 a week working part time at Wendy's. I loved my job more than you could possibly imagine. My boss Mike always scheduled me second shift so I could still work out in the afternoons at the gym with all women. All the husbands were at work and I loved being the center of attention at Planet Fitness. I never had any pay issues at Wendy's and the 18 and 19 year old girls fresh out of high school always had me cracking up. I even was constantly entertained by the fat one that purposely threw French fries on the floor and openly discussed her need for a sex change. I couldn't blame her for it either. I didn't predict it working out so well if she kept her gender but I wasn't entirely sure she'd be any happier as a fellow.
I placed my rejection letter from the unemployment office on top of my termination letter from Social Security. I was really screwed here through absolutely no fault of my own. An attorney in Lancaster assured me I could win my UC appeal but he intended to collect $2,000.00 for himself and after my FlaggerForce experience I had already promised Officer Steidler that NEVER again would I hire an attorney for ANYTHING!
That's when I fell into some luck with the google draw and found a link title $295.00 Flat Rate Appeals. I thought it was bullshit at first but I still insisted on calling the Florida number out of curiosity. A man named Spencer Cohn answered the phone. He must have chatted with me at least twenty minutes and near the end of the conversation I grabbed my credit card more than eager awaiting to pay the $75.00 consultation fee.
But there was no fee! I had just taken up twenty minutes of this man's time for free! I knew this man was compassionate about his work and I was a big fan of his flat rate fees. But I still deep inside had a very curious question. How could this nice unemployment representative with a Juris Doctorate degree possibly survive if he was only charging his customers $295.00? Did this mean that my nest egg was not in total jeopardy and that imaginary beach ball could still float for just a little bit longer before plummeting to the gritty sand? I was already playing $400 dollar hands of Black Jack and putting $500 all on red only for it to land on green. It was definitely worth the measly $295.00 risk to find out if this man from Florida was the real deal or not.
Lawyers had screwed me over so many times in life I was completely awestruck when Mr. Spencer Cohn read the letter he wrote to the UC office over the phone. It sounded so professional and everything in the letter was spot on. I had been terminated from Cocalico Distribution (Durawood) because some hotheaded Italian construction workers in New Jersey were being dicks and I ended up leaving the company with a $400 bill for repairs to a curb that was damaged which the construction crew in NJ was heavily responsible for. I still have the 45 minute UC recording of me cross examining Mrs. M as to whether or not she questioned my lumper prior to terminating me. For some reason she definitely didn't want to go there so she lied. Her first reply was "I don't believe so". Then she changed her story to flat out saying "No". I don't think she knew that I saw Nathan in her office just prior to her terminating me. I was already on thin ice with the company because of the big physical therapy rehab bill I left them with because I had knots in my back from lifting those three hundred pound oak stair cases. But I had Spencer to the rescue investigating the entire story! The big twist was, of course, I don't think Spencer ever knew about me cashing in on my carrot that the Obama campaign dangled in front of my face or he may have been reluctant to provide his full assistance and join in with the rest of the "System Haters" that permeate Lancaster County with their stupid "Welfare Is Not An Occupation" bumper stickers followed along with their silly confederate dukes of Hazards flags whipping in the wind like a crusty wind sock.
I won my unemployment hearing fair and square without having to part with $2,000.00 to hire an attorney but I was learning quickly that unemployment was entirely a separate thing from "good time" money as there were many stipulations required in PA to continue to collect that breadline. Before I would ever get close to acquiring my official bragging rights of exhausting my unemployment my clicking of the mousey finally paid off and I was being recruited to drive the really big 18 wheelers that I actually went to school for! Somebody felt it was time for Arnie to jump off my lap and give Skeeter Norton and BillyBoB Jr one less thing to grouse about at the end of their workdays while they chewed off the poor waitresses ear at the truck stops while she pretends to actually listen. A small handful of those billybig rigger paychecks and pretty soon I'd have myself my very first custom made trucker hat sporting my very first acquired trucker name. Blaker209.