Uh oh, Pasghettios!
I went in to work last night, and my S/S (to be known as Barney from now on, if I can get used to calling him that) updated me on FNG's condition.
Broken back, broken ribs, punctured lung, swelling of his brain, and he's in a coma. He's had one surgery already for his back, and they don't know if he's going to be able to walk again.
After that, he tells me that The Sleeper complained about me, and that the three of us are going to have a meeting.
"Unga?" I replied casually.
He didn't give me any details, but he made a point of saying that all of the guards on the site have to get along, and if we couldn't resolve this between us, he'll take it to our (higher level manager) and let him sort it out.
The thing that I don't get is that I don't work with The Sleeper, and in fact don't see him more than once a week now, for five minutes at the most.
Further, I say next to nothing to him, following his cue. I just take possession of the site from him and let him leave in his surly way.
The last time I tried to have any sort of conversation (minimal as it was) with him was over a month ago, possibly as long ago as two. And what did this old man do?
Mimicked every word I said!
Me: "So how's it going?"
Him: "So how's it going?"
Me: "Uh, that's what I said."
Him: "Uh, that's what I said."
Et cetera. Screw that noise.
The conversation between us before that was something like this:
We'd said our minimal hellos and I was sitting at the desk, going over the paperwork from the previous shifts. Instead of taking off like he usually does, he was standing there staring at me. It was pretty creepy.
Finally he asks mockingly "Did you get lots of sleep?"
"No," I replied.
He makes an odd sort of choking laugh sound.
I look up from the paperwork. "Something funny?"
"Oh, just that you didn't get much sleep. I just find that funny. But you wouldn't because, as you said, you didn't get much sleep."
And he departs. Fucking weirdo.
Couple that with him coming in on Sunday mornings to relieve me, and me and the Romanian are standing right next to each other, and he makes a point of saying "Good morning, (Romanian)" and blows right on by me without a word, and I think that I'm probably not doing anything worthy of complaining about.
Barney does mention that The Sleeper has complained about me before. He opines that what happens is that The Sleeper doesn't get enough sleep (!), gets easily irritated (no kidding), and lets things tumble over and over in his head before getting all worked up about them.
So on Sunday night I have to be at work by 2330 so we can all "talk". Yippee.
And on a totally unrelated note, I've had it with those totes that everybody seems to have. Those ones that are shoulder bags, but have wheels and a little handle that telescopes up so they can roll their stuff like luggage.
What a fantastic idea! Except that on transit, in the mall, in narrow or tight places, in crowds, IT GETS IN THE FUCKING WAY!
They're happy to trip you with it, they're totally oblivious to where it is or the crowd dynamics as they swing these things around.
And possibly the most irritating version of this thing is the one where the storage part is roughly the size of a loaf of bread, but still has the handle extended so it can be dragged around.
Unless you're hauling some sort of degenerate collapsed matter in there, pick it up, m'kay?
Sheesh!
And the most amusing quote I read today:
"Pumping is the devil's pastime, and we must all say no to Satan," Ratchasima concluded. "Inflate your tires by all means, but then hide your bicycle pump where it cannot tempt you."
Found on the Darwin Awards page and referring to people pumping air up their ass to get high. Crazy bastards.
Broken back, broken ribs, punctured lung, swelling of his brain, and he's in a coma. He's had one surgery already for his back, and they don't know if he's going to be able to walk again.
After that, he tells me that The Sleeper complained about me, and that the three of us are going to have a meeting.
"Unga?" I replied casually.
He didn't give me any details, but he made a point of saying that all of the guards on the site have to get along, and if we couldn't resolve this between us, he'll take it to our (higher level manager) and let him sort it out.
The thing that I don't get is that I don't work with The Sleeper, and in fact don't see him more than once a week now, for five minutes at the most.
Further, I say next to nothing to him, following his cue. I just take possession of the site from him and let him leave in his surly way.
The last time I tried to have any sort of conversation (minimal as it was) with him was over a month ago, possibly as long ago as two. And what did this old man do?
Mimicked every word I said!
Me: "So how's it going?"
Him: "So how's it going?"
Me: "Uh, that's what I said."
Him: "Uh, that's what I said."
Et cetera. Screw that noise.
The conversation between us before that was something like this:
We'd said our minimal hellos and I was sitting at the desk, going over the paperwork from the previous shifts. Instead of taking off like he usually does, he was standing there staring at me. It was pretty creepy.
Finally he asks mockingly "Did you get lots of sleep?"
"No," I replied.
He makes an odd sort of choking laugh sound.
I look up from the paperwork. "Something funny?"
"Oh, just that you didn't get much sleep. I just find that funny. But you wouldn't because, as you said, you didn't get much sleep."
And he departs. Fucking weirdo.
Couple that with him coming in on Sunday mornings to relieve me, and me and the Romanian are standing right next to each other, and he makes a point of saying "Good morning, (Romanian)" and blows right on by me without a word, and I think that I'm probably not doing anything worthy of complaining about.
Barney does mention that The Sleeper has complained about me before. He opines that what happens is that The Sleeper doesn't get enough sleep (!), gets easily irritated (no kidding), and lets things tumble over and over in his head before getting all worked up about them.
So on Sunday night I have to be at work by 2330 so we can all "talk". Yippee.
And on a totally unrelated note, I've had it with those totes that everybody seems to have. Those ones that are shoulder bags, but have wheels and a little handle that telescopes up so they can roll their stuff like luggage.
What a fantastic idea! Except that on transit, in the mall, in narrow or tight places, in crowds, IT GETS IN THE FUCKING WAY!
They're happy to trip you with it, they're totally oblivious to where it is or the crowd dynamics as they swing these things around.
And possibly the most irritating version of this thing is the one where the storage part is roughly the size of a loaf of bread, but still has the handle extended so it can be dragged around.
Unless you're hauling some sort of degenerate collapsed matter in there, pick it up, m'kay?
Sheesh!
And the most amusing quote I read today:
"Pumping is the devil's pastime, and we must all say no to Satan," Ratchasima concluded. "Inflate your tires by all means, but then hide your bicycle pump where it cannot tempt you."
Found on the Darwin Awards page and referring to people pumping air up their ass to get high. Crazy bastards.
posted by Rimmy at 16:22
2 Comments:
How the hell do these people get hired? What kind of recruitment scheme does your work have going?
Recruitment scheme is as follows:
"We don't care who you are, what you look like, or your previous work history. All we want are more bodies to stuff into places so we can fill the constantly increasing number of contracts we have. Sign here."
:P
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