CHAPTER 13
When I showed up at work on Tuesday, the waiting room was packed and our receptionist had her hands full signing people in. Thankfully, nobody was there to see me; they were all there for Nelda. I shared space with a cheerful worker's comp attorney named Nelda Santos who couldn't keep up with the pool of potential clients claiming to have been injured on the job. With the collection of crutches, neck braces, and bandages on display that morning, the waiting room looked like a scene from ER or Grey's Anatomy, or any disaster movie ever made. Anyone seeing that would think Hollywood, Florida was a dangerous place to work indeed. It was a wonder nobody had called OSHA yet.
I waited until I was at my desk, warm sunlight streaming through the window, to learn what news, if any, the
