I don't like Daylight Saving Time. I never have and I doubt if I ever will.
It's not that I have specific objections to that particular time process â€” or that I especially favor Central Standard Time, the time zone that we live in.
What I don't like is being forced to change times. To me, 4 o'clock is 4 o'clock even if the clock says it's 3 or 5; I still feel it as 4. My internal clock doesn't move in conjunction with the hands on a timepiece.
Deep in the tunnels of a dark Kentucky coal mine in 1917, a man of 19 years was pinned between a loaded coal car and the cold rock wall. Fearing death would take him, Henry Harrison Mayes prayed to God to save his life. In exchange, Mayes would commit the rest of his life to spreading the teachings of the Holy Scriptures. His life was spared. It was now time to keep the promise he had made.
The day didn't start out badly, but that state of affairs wasn't to last long.
Everyone has had experiences like those that befell me on a recent Friday. It wasn't a Friday the 13th, but it well might have been. No one I encountered was happy.
Let me back up. People who work here were not particularly unpleasant. It was the walk-ins and call-ins that set the tone for all-around bad karma.
We're used to dealing with complaints from disgruntled people. It's a situation that simply goes with the territory.