Nostalgia & History > The McPherson Files... Summer 1990

I graduated from high school in 1990.  In the immediate wake, I was a broke and jobless high school graduate with no real plans other than to never set foot in a classroom again.
 
As it turned out, I would eventually fail in that endeavor.
 
In the short-term however, it was fortunate that a ten-speed bike was great on gas mileage and insurance… it fit a broke and jobless budget.  The thing about growing up in a college town is that if you are not knocking on doors at the right time, all the low-wage entry-level jobs get snatched up by the college kids.  By the time I got back from the NRHS convention, the job market was zilch.  I’d go knock on doors only to be told “we’re not hiring now,” and end up trackside by mid-afternoon.
 
1-2. Working on a roll of K-64 from the convention trip, Amtrak 392 is followed by Norfolk Southern 124 at Carbondale.  The two trains often ran back-to-back in the afternoon.  The photos were taken on June 18th, 1990.

Mary McPherson
Dongola, IL
Diverging Clear Productions

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3-4. Finishing off the black and white from the convention trip, the same pair of trains were found on another afternoon.

Mary McPherson
Dongola, IL
Diverging Clear Productions



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 04/08/20 08:23 by MaryMcPherson.

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5. On July 9th, 1990, I saw and photographed the last train to head south on the double track from Carbondale that I would ever see.  GP38-2 #9622 led a pair of SD40’s past Grand Avenue that morning, and a mast that would soon bear a signal for the South Carbondale junction can be seen to the right.
 
Ten days later, on July 19th, the southbound main was severed and bent to connect with the South Carbondale switch.  While signal maintainers did their work to get the power switch and signals online, a track gang went to work surfacing the newly realigned track.
 
6-7. Not knowing any of this was going on, I happened along to find the work in progress.  Fortunately, I had my camera in my back pack.  Once the track and signal men were done, the dispatcher lined up the first train to take to the now single-tracked railroad between Carbondale and Anna.  It was southbound Norfolk Southern #123 with the usual quartet of Geeps in the lead.
 
Nearly 26 years later, we spotted #5252 in a line of stored engines in the yard at Roanoke, Virginia, while in town to shoot #611’s 2016 runs to Lynchburg and Walton.  Having been a regular on trains 123 and 124, seeing #5252 parked was like seeing an old friend.

Mary McPherson
Dongola, IL
Diverging Clear Productions

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It wouldn’t be until after the end of the summer semester at S.I.U. that the job market would open up.  McDonald’s called first, and what the hell… I’ll tell that tale.
 
Let me preface what follows with this: Dad told me “You’re living under MY roof, and no matter how much you might hate your job, you MAY NOT QUIT.”
 
Fair enough.
 
I had been working at McDonald’s for about three weeks, and had found that the job was organized at such a dumbed down level that those that could actually think on their feet were apt to get an earful.
 
Exhibit A: A quarter-pounder with cheese is to be made in steps A-B-C-D-E-F-G.  Sometimes during the lunch rush however, the poo hits the rotating blades… for example if the person on the grill slips and several patties hit the floor with an impatient and famished line awaiting their heart-attack in a bag.  So while you wait for another round of compacted bovine bits to come off the grill, you get everything set for the most efficient way of getting the final product out the door.  You pre-set steps A-B-C-D and F-G so that when the steaming hot patties come at you, you can slip E between the waiting A-D and F-G.  The end result is exactly the same, the customer has a shorter wait, and you get an ass chewing.
 
Okay, fine.  Piss off the crowd.  It’s your show.
 
One afternoon, the manager called me into the office and demanded to know why I was only showing up for half of my shifts.  Dumbfounded and confused, I led the manager to the posted schedule and pointed out my name on the roster.  Every shift on the line with my name was officially marked to show that I had been there for that shift.
 
“But you haven’t been there for those,” she says, pointing at another line with the same first name and different last initial.
 
“That’s not my name.”
 
“But those are your shifts,” she replied.
 
It was at that point that I realized I could not work for people this stupid, but dad’s decree echoed in my head: “You MAY NOT QUIT.”
 
“Well,” I replied, “if I am not performing up to your expectations, you as manager have every right to let me go.”
 
She paused for a moment, mouth partially opened as if stuck in vapor-lock between two opposing thoughts, and then said “you can pick up your last check on Thursday.”
 
“THANK YOU!” I said, and never looked back.
 
And I technically didn’t quit.

Mary McPherson
Dongola, IL
Diverging Clear Productions

Your Micky D's story is hilarious..Sad but true. Like calling Comcast. If you can actually get a living person, they have an exact script to follow. They can't have an actual conversation with you.  The ones that can actually think on their feet are the ones who end up actually solving the problem. Not the one's who say something like "Thank you for being a Comcast subscriber. How's your day going so far?  (Crappy as obviously I'm having a problem with my TV or Internet). We are very sorry you are encountering this issue. I will everything I can to help you solve this problem. And God help you if you actually try to order something a bit different at a fast food place. That throws the entire process into chaos. Some Amtrak staff also fall into this category...particularly in the diner.