I don't know about you, but when I'm about to start in on a task that may leave me or my clothing soiled or splattered with anything other than my own sweat or tears, I don appropriate personal protective equipment (officially, if not affectionately, known as P.P.E.). These articles may include gloves, masks, shoe covers, and/or gowns, depending on the anticipated exposure. I prefer to err on the side of caution, so I use a whole LOT of it! By the by, for me, it's more a lifestyle choice than a work-mandate. I guess I have OSHA to thank for making it both. It is true that I would live in a Haz-Mat suit if they were both comfortable and affordable.
I might not be the smartest monkey in the zoo, but I do know that if you bathe somebody (that you are not currently the parent, extremely CLOSE relative, or "partner" of) RIGHT, you will need to at least cover your clothes and your hands.
So, after I gather my supplies (gotta do that first because I AM the most warm-blooded monkey around and the cover-ups are SO hot!), I don all my P.P.E. and begin to position the equipment (in this case, a specialty bed) for my convenience (translation: I wanna get outta there as quickly as I can!). On certain beds, each wheel has a brake that must be individually manipulated in order to move the bed, as well as to "lock" it in position. Since these wheels rest on floors, and are hardly easy to access, I get on down there. I discover a grouping of wires of unknown origin or purpose hanging under the bed near the top left wheel. As the aforementioned bed has been working adequately, I (of course I do-I'm nothing if not predictable) casually move the wires to see just what the heck is going on.
A few sparks and a singed disposable gown sleeve are all it takes to remind me of the obvious folly of taking electrical (literally) matters into my own hands (also literally).
I make a mental note to put in a work order for this equipment before I leave, and to NOT GO NEAR the live wires again, but I must first complete this task I've already started in on. I assign myself a safety ally by way of notifying a co-worker of the situation, and requesting she check on me if I'm not seen for a while and/or if she smells anything burning, etc. Task is completed without further incident.
Scene change: Shift ending. Ask secretary if maintenance routinely comes in on Sunday or if they only do so if called in for emergency. I learn that multiple calls were made YESTERDAY concerning this very problem, and then my new EX-friend (I'll refer to him here as "Trip") appears and says: Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you about that! Yesterday, my SHOES LIT UP!
And that's just one way to make ex-friends at work, Trip, by not bothering to try not to kill your co-workers.
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