At work, "Uh Oh" usually meant something bad. As in you found something you weren't expecting, things that were working are worn out and have to be replaced because you found something else wrong with it, and it wasn't originally the problem. Or, working on something and you screwed up and have to start all over. Or, as is the case a lot of the time, something you did is going to put your ass in a sling.
That's oil field, it's fixable for the most part. Unless you send oil down the natural gas sales line at a production facility. That's not fixable. The gas company gets to keep that and sell it. Uh Oh. Ass eatin time. And lesson to be learned time. Places I'm not sure you ever want to hear "Uh Oh": An Operating Room. Bad place to hear "Uh Oh". Mission Control in Houston for NASA. Another bad place for an "Uh Oh". A Military Operation. I can't imagine "Uh Oh" is a good thing to hear during a fire fight at all. Waking up to "Uh Oh" and the sound of squealing brakes and tires on pavement. Also a bad time to hear that. Hearing it come out of my own mouth when they said "The biopsy came back positive", not such a good time. I thought "Uh Oh" back in December after meeting with my Surgeon, when he said, "Going over your records and all the other treatment, if it should come back, there isn't anything left to do. This will be the last attempt at getting rid of it. The odds are really strong that this surgery will get rid of it for good.". Uh Oh, that didn't happen
I also hear it from myself when those defeatist thoughts come hooking it in. And they do, and those are losers. "What if" sucks. There's no real answer to "What if". When science uses that, they are looking for an outcome. When it comes to personal experience, "What if" is generally used to see what you'd have done differently. You can't tell, there's no way to test something from the past to make it fix today. You can look at it as an lesson. As in "If that situation arises again, I'll do it this way, not that". That's hip, that alters your future, not your past. So, when that starts I tell myself "Uh Oh, don't even start". It's sometimes easier said than done, to tell yourself not to start in with the downer thoughts. They creep in, sorta sneaky like. Stopping them isn't always easy. You have to realize that that having the depressed thoughts suck your energy away. They make you feel hopeless, and that's worse than the cancer that's killing me. Uh Oh! But you're going to die, Rock! How can you have hope?
That's easy enough. I'm in high hopes that I'll be able to go look at some books today, or an estate sale (strictly for research purposes for Liz, of course). Every day has the outlook for a new hope of some kind. I hope we can get to the Farmers Market (bless Midland, it's oil country and the farmers market here is kinda week). I hope that my neck and back give me a break today, but if it doesn't, I hope the pain meds do their thing. Which they have, BTW. Legally Stoned, how cool is that shit, right?
"Uh Oh" has reared it's ugly head once in a while when I was out partying with friends and or family.
A couple of years ago, I put on my kilt and Liz and I head out to a local "Meat Market" bar for drinks, dancing, and pool with our friends. We are having a blast. They are all so much younger than me, it's like being the "bad" Uncle that your parents love but really wish you wouldn't hang out with. But we have fun. So, the "Uh Oh" moment doesn't happen right away this night, it's a build up, and I can see it coming. So douche nozzle is pointing at me and then yappin at his buddies. Great. Next, he goes to the can, and intentionally bumps into me. Hurray for you, pencil neck. Does it again on the way back. I'm not huge, but I was more solid than he expected, and I anticipated what was gonna happen, so I leaned toward his that time. He bounced off. Please take the hint. Nope, here he comes, on fist doubled up. "Uh Oh". "What kind of pussy wears a skirt to a bar?" Uh oh. "What kind of dick asks?" I can't resist. I'm hoping that he figures I'm not intimidated, he'll say something almost tough, think he's won, and go back to his buds and leave me the hell alone. One of my buds bows up and starts in at the kid. I say "Let it go, he's an asshole who doesn't know better". He knew he was looking for a fight. Even though we are on the second floor of the bar, with really, really steep steps going down. He invites me outside. Uh oh. "Okay, big man, lead the way". Tactical error on his part, he does lead the way. His friends are still sitting, that's even better. He gets that first step under his foot, and is about to take the second, I push. Really hard. Down he goes. About halfway down I think "Uh oh, he could break his neck". He's still breathing when he hits the bottom, because he's moaning really loud, and moving. Good. I waited. Then waited some more. He didn't come back upstairs. I'd gone down stairs, and didn't see him.
"Hey! Where's our friend?" No "Uh Oh" this time. "He went downstairs", which was true, just not like he thought he would.
I was back playing pool, my friends, one at a time over probably 20 minutes came up and asked what happened to the guy picking the fight. "I pushed his ass down the stairs.". Much "bullshit, no you didn't", or "Are you sure he's alive?". Yes I did, yes he's okay, mostly. I waited a couple of days to see if the little snake had gone to the police. Apparently not. I guess having a guy in a kilt shove you down a flight of stairs wasn't his idea of losing a macho fight. I wonder if he's out telling his own "Uh Oh" story over that lapse in judgement?
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