Matt Hazard

I’ve been known to hold more than a few nicknames in my lifetime. Some were endearing, others not so much. A younger version of me was known as Matt Man throughout elementary school, mainly due to the creative limitations of early childhood minds. Hazard was born out of a motorcycle injury combined with a reputation for aversion to workplace PPE, and is the name that really survived the test of time.

The name I earned at work last week from my supervisor might just take the cake, and I completely brought this upon myself, with a dash of inspiration from the late Norm Macdonald.

So allow me to re-introduce myself. Hi, my name is Moth-ew.

Let me paint you a word picture of a typical day at work. I clock in, and walk into my supervisor’s office to annoy him. I go for coffee, then pay a visit to annoy him some more. Then I’ll do the majority of my daily tasks before annoying him again before lunch. After lunch, I’ll crash his office again before finishing up for the day and then give him the finger gun through his office door as I pass by on my way out of the building.

Here’s the playbook of the visits – I chat with him until either his overbearing silence forces me to talk myself into a wall and I have to dismount the conversation out of embarrassment, or I get a rise out of him and get him to crack and laugh. Friday was no different, except this time I played to win.

“Matt, you were just in here 20 minutes ago asking about work orders for the air handler units. Then we talked again five minutes later when you stopped me at the coffee machine. What the hell could you possibly want now?” My supervisor is always cursing.

“Well, it’s not really about work, it’s more about the constant pain that I’m in.” His eyebrows raised at the sudden topic pivot. “My back, it’s always so sore. I can’t seem to get any relief.”

I could see a mix of confusion and frustration wash over his face. I continued.

“No matter what side I try to sleep on, the pangs of pain always find me. Sometimes I sleep on the floor beside the bed in an attempt to straighten out whatever hellish knot may be wreaking havoc on my torso.”

He stared at me not saying a word, the familiar silence tactic used in a feeble attempt to gas me out so I’d leave. I was just warming up.

“I stretch every night, you know, to no avail. I’ll take each leg and lean against the wall, quad stretching out behind me. I’ve tried my calves too, stretching out until I feel the fiery pain of sinew pulling to their limits. Still, the cold grip of muscular pain ails me at night.”

His eyes were glazed over, his back against the ropes in a verbal onslaught of nonsense. I stayed in the pocket.

“It’s like having an arrow lodged in your back that you just can’t reach to pull out. I yearn for the freedom from this everlasting nightmare. To be able to sleep at night, even just for a few hours without the constant tossing and turning, forever trying to find a position to alleviate the pain, only never being able to find it.. “

Finally, accepting defeat, he couldn’t hear anymore. “I get it! Good Lord, man. I’m sorry about your back issues, but I’m not a doctor, and I honestly don’t care. Why the hell are you coming into my office and telling me this?”

I don’t think he was ready for the preloaded reply.

“Well, your door was open and the light was on.”