Document Management

When I was in 7th grade, I studied math with the 8th graders at Valley View Junior High in District 66 in The O.  Yes, I was a mathematically-advanced young man.   (I balanced that out with a healthy fear of girls.)

Teacher Dave Thronson (Mr. Thronson to you) sat me in the back row between Tyler Schropp and Jason Wills to break them up; they cut up too much for Mr. Thronson’s liking.  One Friday we had a sub, and Mr. Wills made me take his seat so he and Mr. Schropp could jack around.  The following Monday, Mr. Thronson caught me at the door, and this exchange ensued:

Mr. Thronson (in stern voice):  Dan, what kind of problems did we have on Friday?

Young Dan (in happy-to-help voice):  Math problems, Mr. Thronson?  Well, we worked on …

Mr. Thronson (in very stern voice):  YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!  THE SUBSTITUTE TEACHER SAID DAN ALLEN AND TYLER SCROPP WERE DISRUPTIVE THE ENTIRE PERIOD!

Young Dan quickly calculated whether not getting detention was worth a meeting with Mr. Wills’s fists.  Silencio was the decision.  Just gonna gut this one out.

Mr. Thronson looked me in the eye and calculated a bit, too.

WILLS!!  GET OUT HERE!  ALLEN!  GET IN THERE!

 

That same school year, I was sitting in my Dad’s easy chair one Friday night watching “The Dukes of Hazzard”–as I did each Friday night at 8.  (Recall the girlophobia.)  My brother Bill and his 9th grade buddies were in the basement planning their evenings.  (They were girlophiles.)  Our parents were out on the town.

Suddenly, I heard “Fire!  Fire!” followed by a massive explosion that rattled the living room windows.  I ran downstairs to find smoke pouring up the stairs.  Back upstairs to get the fire extinguisher and medical kit.  Back down.  Smoke had cleared enough to see 4 or 5 guys face down with heads covered foxhole-style.  They appeared graveyard-dead.

DA:  Are you guys making bombs?

BA:  No, Captain Obvious, we’re knitting afghans.  Of course we’re making bombs, you idiot!

One guy had poured  a bunch of gunpower into a piece of foil (think a giant Hershey’s Kiss made with explosives, not chocolate).  After topping it with a fuse, he was sealing it–WITH A BURNING CANDLE.

Moron accidentally (we think) lit the

and, instead of just pulling out the fuse, screamed “Fire! Fire!” and bailed into the next room.  All others followed suit.

Gladly, no one was hurt.  Except a bunch of tax returns my Dad prepared for clients.  Great.   Now what?

Bill’s master cover-up plan included Dad’s copy machine, a box window fan, and 3000 gallons of Lysol.  Mom and  Dad came home late, and we awaited the fate that would arrive big time on Saturday morning.  I did not sleep well, and I was a sleeper.

We told them that story when we were in our 20’s.  Bill’s master cover-up plan worked.  They were clueless.  Nice.

 

Now something useful.  People frequently ask me about document management.  Here’s a good source that briefly covers a few bases.  Thanks to my friends at Lutz & Company for the info.  The final sentence is very important.

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