Imagination: the poor man's internet

Because that's what I need. How could the afternoon shift be less stimulating than the graveyard?

Because it is. I don't want to hang out in my office because Crazy Cougar Receptionist shares it, and being a witness to her phonyness as she sifts for gossip to spread to others is grating. Besides, I want to learn who's around on this shift.

So I patrol. And patrol and patrol and patrol. But it's silly, because there are still people around, and I'm mostly there for when the people aren't around.

Plus, people are starting to ask me where Barney has gone. Is he on vacation?

"No," I say, "he's pursuing other options." Barney didn't want me to say much about the whole thing, so until I hear from someone who can actually tell me what went on, I'm not saying squat except that Barney's gone and not coming back.

He didn't tell anybody but a handful of people at the site, it seems, and to each of them he told something different. This will be interesting.

I'm finding it more and more telling that not only are all of the client's representatives on vacation (and were last week when this went down), so are the managers with my security company that have my site as part of their domain. Call me paranoid, but that's all awfully convenient, isn't it?

I mean, everybody that Barney could possibly appeal to or complain to about this is simply gone at the time it happened.

Ah well.

On Monday, I had a guy sent to me to be trained for the graveyard, my old shift.

He seems likable enough, and is kind of a cross between Ralph Macchio and Sylvester Stallone. He showed up with his girlfriend (minus points) but it turns out she also works for my company and she was just coming along for the trip. She didn't actually come inside (points added). He forgot to bring his tie (minus points) but he did bring his notebook (BIG points added).

He used to be in construction. But he gave that up (he says) after a small concrete wall fell on him, pinning him in such a manner that he was kissing his ankles with the weight on his back.

In addition, a concrete form (a wall of wood and rebar) fell on him, crushing his leg. And to finish his trio of work stories, he said he was picking up junk after a construction job and when he picked up a bunch of discarded rebar, a piece jumped up and stabbed up into the soft area under his chin, with such force that it demolished some teeth.

So he came to do security work, because it's safer.

He's worked for us for about a month, apparently. Right away they started him in mobile, but he left that after a week or two, since he didn't like doing the Hastings run.

For those not familiar with Vancouver, East Hastings has a (not entirely without merit, but overblown nonetheless) reputation for being a place where a disproportionately large amount of trouble happens. It's one street in an area where there are lots of economically disadvantaged people, homeless people, rampant drug use, et cetera.

For what it's worth, and not that I've often had reason to be there, I've never felt any less safe walking there than anywhere else.

Anyway, he was doing the night shift where you'd have to zap to a building, do a patrol (logging pipe points) then zap off to the next, and so on. Plus alarm responses. He found it too stressful, so he opted out.

Then they bounced him around to various undesirable sites for a bit, then my shift became available and he was available to work graveyards. So I get him.

He seems nice, and he's travelled (big bonus in my opinion, since I tend to equate that with slightly broader perspectives and I also wish I'd done more of that myself) in Europe quite a bit (he's got family there), he's been married and divorced, and is about my age. Which is to say, not too old to take a little direction.

I had four hours to train him, and damned if he didn't get lost every time we went to the second floor.

This is common, especially when it's deserted and the lights are off. The building is really two buildings, with connecting bridges between them and the entire floor is a maze of cubicles. And I mean a maze - there are no obvious connecting paths or anything. There are no landmarks, and all views into the central atrium are equally lacking in perspective.

At least when you're not used to it. ;)

When it was to be our last patrol together, I had him lead me on a typical patrol. We spent the better part of an hour on the second floor alone, because he kept going around and around on it. Sometimes in mini-loops as he got lost in the maze, and sometimes around the entire level because he couldn't remember where the elevators were.

After that, I got to leave him on his own for eight hours.

I read his report, and he did reasonably regular patrols. When he came in for the next night, he said that he got lost a few times, but he's slowly figuring it out.

He pegged the Crazy Cougar Receptionist and the Cafeteria Lady as probing gossips all on his own, and was glad that I'd advised him to play dumb if anybody questioned him about anything.

Not that he has to be a mute idiot, just that information should flow to him, not from him.

Besides, he doesn't know who he can talk to without it biting him in the ass, or what's acceptable. He seems able to pull this off.

Buffalo Kisser isn't sure about him, so he says when I asked what he thought of the new guy. "That guy says 'Shut up!' and 'No WAY!' too much." Buffalo Kisser opines.

He's right, that's what the guy does. It's his version of the "uh huh" and "oh, really" that people do to show polite interest in what you're saying.

But watching this guy laugh is a delight. I told him some security stories (not about any of the people he's going to meet on this site, of course) and he just split himself laughing. I mean, tears and irregular breathing and all that.

And last night, when he was telling me about the people he met on shift, he couldn't remember their names but when he described them I'd imitate them (I'm a passable mimic, for both voice and mannerism) and he's kill himself at the caricatures I was rendering. I think that he'll fit in fine socially at this site, although he's a little aggressive about talking to people. The body language of someone who is working late or just woke up usually tells you they don't want to have to deal with YOU, but he goes right on over and asks how they are.

Not my style, but he'll work it out.

DiceGimp is even angrier with me now.

I'd have thought that after he unloaded last week why he was upset, that would make him feel better. But I guess that me buying The Romanian's monitor (he wasn't mad at The Romanian for selling it to me, but he was furious that I'd bought it. Go fig) on the heels of him being upset pushed him into an entirely new realm.

The Romanian explained to him that it was still for sale, and that I was just speeding up the process since The Romanian couldn't wait any longer (over two months DiceGimp has been promising to buy that thing), but he didn't care. All manner of nasty stuff is coming out of his mouth to whoever will listen, which basically means The Romanian and Buffalo Kisser. Both of which immediately tell me, of course.

But now I'm on a different shift, so the dude doesn't have to see me except for those fifteen minutes or so when I'm leaving and he's showing up. And now he makes a point of running away if he thinks I might approach, like when I was taking the new guy (haven't got a good nickname for him yet) out to meet him and Buffalo Kisser.

Interestingly, when I was asking the new guy how his first shift went, and if he got along with the bike patrol guys, he said that Buffalo Kisser is cool and fun to talk to, but that DiceGimp is... (he trailed off) ... different.

I asked what he meant, and he said "Just the way he talks... it's like 'Dude, could you hurry it up? I've got a patrol to do..".

See? I told you he spoke in endless and pointless detail about things! Independant confirmation! Of course, you only have my word that it's true... :P

Now, a news article and a picture. If you're at all a sensitive type, you'll want to avoid the picture. It involves a fetus, or part of one, and I'm hiding it behind a link. So be warned!

First the article, though.

From the New York Times comes the Scientific Savvy? In U.S., Not Much article.

While scientific literacy has doubled over the past two decades, only 20 to 25 percent of Americans are "scientifically savvy and alert," he [Dr. Jon D. Miller] said in an interview. Most of the rest "don't have a clue." At a time when science permeates debates on everything from global warming to stem cell research, he said, people's inability to understand basic scientific concepts undermines their ability to take part in the democratic process.

Whoo-ee! He said a mouthful! But an accurate mouthful, that's for sure. My mom inadvertantly summed this very point up thirteen or fourteen years ago when she came into the family room where my brother and I were discussing/debating/arguing about environmental issues. I think specifically we were talking about carbon monoxide emissions and the long-term effects thereof.

She paused for long enough to hear what were were talking about, and said something along the lines of "I wish everybody (world at large) would stop endlessly arguing about the enviroment!"

Astonished, I said "Mom, where do you think the exhaust from your car goes?"

She snapped back "Up into the sky and disappears!"

A moment passes.

Then she said, and I've never forgotten this, "Well, I know that's not true, but that's what were were taught when I was in school."

Mom's a good egg. She recognised that she didn't actually know, and that was pretty cool. And she's not dumb either, it was just something she hadn't encountered as being relevant to her.

Years later, she was resistant to the idea of recycling, but once she understood the why's of it (I guess growing up in an era where the world was a big place and vistas seemed endless shapes a certain way of thinking that doesn't necessarily prepare you for environmental awareness) she was the most dilligent trash-sorter you ever met.

But if there had been a vote or referendum about vehicle emissions at that time, what would she have based her decision on?

That's not a dis, but it's a fair question provoked by the article.

Dr. Miller's data reveal some yawning gaps in basic knowledge. American adults in general do not understand what molecules are (other than that they are really small). Fewer than a third can identify DNA as a key to heredity. Only about 10 percent know what radiation is. One adult American in five thinks the Sun revolves around the Earth, an idea science had abandoned by the 17th century.

As he goes on to say, this kind of ignorance may not have mattered much for the nation's public life. You could still be an effective citizen. But nowadays, with acid rain, nuclear power, infectious diseases and more, that's no longer the case.

I found the second to last paragraph of the article interesting as well:

Lately, people who advocate the teaching of evolution have been citing Dr. Miller's ideas on what factors are correlated with adherence to creationism and rejection of Darwinian theories. In general, he says, these fundamentalist views are most common among people who are not well educated and who "work in jobs that are evaporating fast with competition around the world."

Note he said most and not all. No need to tell me about your cousin with the engineering degree who believes in a literal interpretation of Genesis. :P

Now, the picture:

A sculpture made with the pickled head of a dead fetus attached to a seagull's body, which is part of a Chinese art exhibition in Switzerland has pissed the usual people off. Have a gander here.

Didn't Don Knotts leave the force to go manage an apartment building?

So I finish my shift on Friday morning. I bought The Romanian's monitor (the one DiceGimp has been promising to buy for the past couple of months) off of him, and he was astonished/pleased. He thought I was just doing it to tweak DiceGimp, but I figure that if DiceGimp wants it, he can buy it from me since I've got infinite time, and The Romanian is heading home in five weeks, and will be gone for seven weeks.

I head home. First is breakfast with the 'rents, then a bit of sleep before game. I admit I stay up a bit later that I should, but no biggie. It's not like I have to work.

Head falls on the pillow. The better part of an hour passes.

RING RING! RING RING! RING RI.. "Hello?"

"Hi Rimmy, this is [Chief Scheduler and Payroll lady with freaky memory]. The client at your site wants you to being working the 1600-0000 shift starting on Monday, is that okay?"

Rimmy: "Yes, Barney told me that. I can do it."

Work: "Good. And can you do that shift today, for training?"

Note that it's 1230 at this point. I've just fallen asleep after working all night.

Rimmy: "Well I suppose, but I'm actually trained for that shift. I've covered for Barney before, so I've really got it all."

Work: "The client wants you to work this shift."

Sigh.

Rimmy: "Okay no problem, I'll be there."

Now, I don't know who "the client" is that she's talking about, since I know it's not our liason there, nor her right-hand man. I think I was just snowed. Damn it.

I inform the group that I'll miss game. I get a bit of sleep. In fact, an hour too much of it. I should have woken up at 1330, but I manage to doze until 1430. I don't have time to get to work via my normal route, good thing taxis are plentiful.

My Storyteller tells me the result of a paranoia-fogged plan my character had. I'm greatly amused at both the in-game result, and my Storyteller's sense of humour. :)

A quick shower, and I'm back at work seven hours after I left it. Of course I had to field the same question from everybody, one after another:

"What are you doing here?"

"Do you do 24 hour shifts here now?"

"Awwww, did you miss us?"

To which I'm tempted to answer "Your mom," "Yes," and "I did, but I have another clip..." but I don't.

I slip into Reception where Crazy Cougar Receptionist is. She's clearly suprised to see me.

CCR: "Hello again. I take it you're covering for Barney?"

My, who's nosy now?

Rimmy: "No, he'll be along shortly."

CCR: "Oh. Two of you on today?"

Rimmy: "Looks like."

CCR: "Why do they need two guards on today?"

Rimmy: I shrug in an 'you don't need to know' manner and say "He needs me to do all his heavy lifting."

I wander around while I'm waiting for him, and talk to a couple of people. Eventually Barney shows up.

Wow, that guy can smoke. The bulk of his rounds seems to be going out one door to see who's there, lighting up, and gossiping. Then back inside to lock a door, then out another door to see who's out there and lighting up and gossiping.

The only thing I learned from him about the site was where the timer was for the Christmas lights, when they put them up. Good thing we got that settled, me being the Christmas lights guy and all. :P

After a couple of hours (read: when everybody he'd want to make a show for had left) he decided to leave too. I took his keys and access, and off he went.

He dropped a few random hints about what happened too, I don't know if he was cracking under the shame/stress, or he'd just forgotten what story he'd already told me, but it sounds like the client did indeed ask for him to be removed, and specifically requested me. I think I'll have to wait until September to question the proper people about it (vacations), but isn't that weird?

My FM (Field Manager) came by to drop off the new schedule and pick up our reports and payroll, and I asked him "So, nobody's come right out and told me officially - am I the S/S here now or what?"

"Beats the hell out of me - you'll have to ask [a higher manager who I'll probably name Cookie Monster if he becomes a repeat character in my experiences]. Of course for that, I'll have to wait until after the weekend.

Oh, and during this extra shift I was working, I got called again. Would I also do my graveyard shift Sunday night/Monday morning, as they don't have anybody to work it? Sigh again.

Once I figure out what the hell is going on, if I'm really in charge, I've got a few things in mind.

1) I'm going to try (if it's possible) to repair the damage that Barney and company has done to the client. I still work there, after all, and there's no need for all this bullshit. I don't know if I can do it, or if I'll even have the opportunity, but if it can be done, I'll give it a shot.

2) The Sleeper isn't working two sixteen hour shifts on the weekend. He can have two eights instead. A guy that can't stay awake during a graveyard eight and lets himself be found by employees and doesn't actually unlock doors for them when he's the only one with a key does not get to work a double shift on a day with nobody around to see him.

3) Nobody new works on the site without training with me first.

4) If the client is going to stay at the current site (they'll definitely be gone by Christmas 2006, although I also hear rumours of a more imminent move, or else closure) I'm going to see if they'll go for a pipe system, so that guards have to electronically tag various points on their patrols. When I review the results on my shift, I can see if there are missed areas or long pauses between patrols, regardless of what they write on their reports.

Of course, I might be getting ahead of myself. Nobody's told me squat yet.

But of course, when I know, you'll know. ;)

Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.

Buffalo Kisser phones me and asks if he can come into my office. I go and let him in.

"Hey man, look who I've got with me!" It's DiceGimp.

Buffalo Kisser said that DiceGimp had a problem, and the problem was with me. So he brought him in to talk to me. DiceGimp is sullenly quiet during this time, and Buffalo Kisser is grinning.

So I turn to DiceGimp and say, "So? What's your beef, Ma?"

He said that he was thinking of leaving the site and trying to get another one, and the main reason is me. I gestured for him to continue.

Basically, I made him feel bad about the parking ticket yesterday. He went on about it in the sort of excruciating detail and length that you'd normally only experience on my blog, and finally fell silent.

I said "You know, that was you being a twit when you tried to pawn that thing off on me. One, I don't do parking control, you do. Two, we're not from the same company. Just because I know what to do doesn't mean I'm going to do it for you. And three, find a better reason to leave the site."

He protested, saying that he thought that someone on my site may have got the ticket, but I responded with "You're in charge (although not in the level of care that I'm charged with, since he just rides his bike around) of a greater number of people at the same address than can be found in my area. Statistical likelihood says that the ticket doesn't belong to anybody in here."

DiceGimp: "Yeah, but how do you know it doesn't?"

Rimmy: "I don't. But you know what? When people come to my site, we give them parking passes for the day. They can't get tickets, since ours last all day. And everybody else has assigned parking underground."

DiceGimp: "You didn't tell me that!"

Rimmy: "You didn't ask, you just wanted to slough your ticket off on me. I wasn't about to instruct you."

And that was basically that. He'd got resentful about it (fair enough, I was a dick) and finally upset enough to want to leave the site.

That, and he wants to be paid more. When he said that, I managed to not ask how much of a raise for doing nothing he expected. :P

Anyway, when he started repeating himself again I said "Well, I can't get you a higher paying job, but I'll tell you what - after this week, I'll stop working graveyards here and the pressure for dealing with my asshole self will be removed for you. How's that sound?"

"Uhhhhhh....."

"Will that help you or not?"

"I don't know."

Yeah, I hear that a lot.

I wasn't bluffing. At the start of my shift, when I was being briefed by Barney (usually just a hello and he puts on his gloves and heads for his motorcycle) he told me that I'm now the S/S and I'll be working afternoons. Permanently.

He made it sound like it was all his choice, but I have my doubts. I'll find out more when I can talk to my CSM, and more still in a week when a certain eyes-and-ears of our client returns from vacation.

I might add that working the 1600-000 shift is just about the worst thing I can imagine - no more evenings!

As it stands now, I can do stuff every evening, seven days a week if I want to. Now... nyet. Pfft.

Also, the World's Happiest Man (he delivers bread products for the cafeteria) gave me two loaves of bread today and a sack of bagels. I gave some of that stuff away to hungry people walking in (oops, does that mean they're not going to buy at the cafeteria? Sucks that I'm a nice guy, huh?) and when Crazy Cougar Receptionist came it, I offered her something. I said that the delivery guy brought his regular bribe by, and I couldn't possibly finish it all.

CCR: "What do you mean bribe?"

Rimmy: "The usual thing - he gives me free stuff."

CCR: "What does he bribe you for?"

Rimmy: "Because I know some things about him, and he wants to be able to keep delivering."

CCR: "Like what?"

Rimmy: "Well if I told you, I wouldn't be holding up my side of the bargain, now would I? Care for a multigrain bagel?"

It was sweet! I hope she tells her Cafeteria Lady buddy, and they decide to file a complaint to my boss. Hope they do it next week though, because then my boss will be me. I'll investigate with all due consideration.

Did I mention that Barney isn't going to tell anybody he's going, and I'm not going to tell anybody I've taken over until he's gone and they ask? It'll be a good way to flush out who's who.

Did everything taste purple for a second there?

Today, in 1812, Canada set fire to the White House and other public buildings in the District of Columbia, something we should consider doing more often.

Of course, we were the British back then, but you know it was really us. ;)

Apparently Cafeteria Lady spoke to her good buddy Crazy Cougar Receptionist yesterday after our conversation about me being nosy, because CCR was in a good mood when she came into the office this morning. So much so, she even greeted me and made what would seem to be a comradely comment: "Good morning! Are you sitting at your new desk?"

I don't have a new desk, I'm sitting at the same place she's seen me sitting at in the mornings for a year now. She's just on a high because she thinks I got in trouble for something that she stirred up. Little does she know that a fair thwack of people know it's just her playing her games, and she's not supported. Ho hum, it's so easy to defeat gossips when all you have to do is tell the truth. ;)

I also managed to sort of get rid of DiceGimp last night, which was a welcome change. He was late coming in, and Buffalo Kisser scolded him for it, so he sulked for a while away from where he thought we might find him.

A silly attitude, since radio doesn't care where you're hiding.

He called me an hour or two into the shift though, saying that he'd found a parking ticket outside and what should he do with it?

I told him to take care of it.

He likes to repeat himself over and over and over during a conversation, oftentimes in the same sentence. He kept asking, and I kept telling him. He wanted me to take it and deal with it, but that's not actually my job and I'm tired of bailing these silly bastards out of their own idiocy.

So finally he said he'd leave it on his table for me to pick up at my leisure. Fine, whatever.

So come about 0600, he looks through my locked-to-him glass doors to where I'm sitting, and said "So what do you want me to do with this ticket?"

Rimmy: "Besides rolling it up and smoking it up your ass, you mean?"

DiceGimp: "Do you want me to push it through your doors or what?"

Rimmy: "Do you see my name, my company's name, my client's name, or my site's name on it?"

DiceGimp: "No, but it may belong to you."

Rimmy: "May belong to someone from your area too, shouldn't that be your first consideration?"

DiceGimp: "So should I push it through your door or not?"

Rimmy: "Fine, go ahead."

DiceGimp: "Wait, I'm suspicious now."

Rimmy: "Then don't push it through."

DiceGimp: "You've been resisting taking it all night, and now you're saying you'll take it? What does that mean?"

Rimmy: "Means you've got a decision to make. Push it through and lose control of it, or keep it and deal with it."

He appears to think about it for a bit, then smiles very slowly (possibly because he's trying to remember the correct sequence of muscles to use to do so) and sticks the ticket through my door, but holds on as though he's teasing me with it. I keep my poker face on, but it's easy because I truly don't care.

He lets it drop.

I get up to retrieve it, and say "Great. Now I have to write up an incident report to staple to it before I give it to your client."

DiceGimp: "What?"

Rimmy: "Don't you think they need to know that their guard doesn't know what he's doing, and that he gave up their own documentation to someone who shouldn't have it? They're lucky I'm an honest guy."

Fifteen minutes later he was moving his table and bag out of my lobby and vanished for the rest of the morning. Sweet! Now if he'd just stop calling me all the damn time.

I'm so tired, I can't seem to get any more than a couple of hours of sleep during the late morning, these past few days. Hopefully I can recharge my sleep battery Friday night. Just because you can go without doesn't mean it's fun. And it cuts my patience down to the bare minimum. Lord knows I won't be giving any breaks if there's a problem at work, and that's just no good. Sigh.

Of course, there are those with stranger jobs than mine. Gopal Haldar earns his living as the ghost man. Now there's a niche that it took a wise man to see needed filling.

Most amusing bit of fake news I've heard this week:

German Luftwaffle Chain Offers Waffles, Overwhelming Air Superiority

MUNICH - An elite force of three dozen 24-hour Luftwaffle restaurants were unveiled across Germany Monday, with free waffles for blond-haired, blue-eyed customers, discounts on Cheese SwasSticks, and the incendiary bombardment of Luftwaffle's largest competitor, the city of London. "Soon, customers will fall under the sway of my lightning-quick, piping-hot Blintzkreig," said Hans Kreuzen, Luftwaffle's founder and oberstmanager-general. "All will know the sweet, buttery taste of fear and waffles from above." Luftwaffle restaurants are expected to face ruthless competition in Germany's already crowded martial-themed eatery business, which is led by such established chains as WehrKnochwurst and Der Marzipanzerkommand.

Today's exhaustion-inspired deep thought: strip mining prevents forest fires.

Slices

To Anonymous *6, who really isn't, and anybody who tries to whip up opinion against others to make themselves seem better than they really are:

A tiger can smile
A snake can say she loves you;
Lies make us evil

And that's that.

-------------------->8 snip!

It's five minutes past 0700, and I can't take the smell anymore. So I fish a loonie out of my pocket and head into the cafeteria to buy a muffin. I nod and say "Morning" to the cafeteria lady as I pass her. Then to the head cook as I pick up my muffin, and to another couple of cafeteria employees as I pass them. Then up to the till where Cafeteria Lady is to pay.

Rimmy: "Morning."

Cafeteria Lady: "Good morrrrrrning!"

Rimmy: "How are you?"

Cafeteria Lady: "I'm fine, how are you? How's your work? How's your life? What time do you get home?"

Rimmy: Huh? "I'm fine, work's fine, life's fine, about quarter after nine, give or take."

Cafeteria Lady: "How do you like it when someone is nosy to you?"

Rimmy: Ah, so we're going to play that again are we? "No problem, I could always just not answer if I didn't want you to know. Is that what you call nosy?"

Cafeteria Lady: "Well, just so you that people don't like it."

Rimmy: "Ah, I see. Since you brought it up, are you aware that the last time you spoke to me like this, two separate people inquired about complaining that I was harrassing you to the point where you had to berate me for being too nosy to you?"

Cafeteria Lady: "What? Who did that?"

Rimmy: "Of course I'm not going to tell you who, I just thought that since you bring it up now you'd be interested to hear what people thought you were doing."

Cafeteria Lady: "It was never my intention to get you in trouble, I just wanted you to let you know quietly that you were bothering people and let you know that they're talking about you behind your back. Because you really are pretty nosy."

Rimmy: "I'm not sure it counts as quiet when you call over to someone else in the cafeteria and introduce me as the nosiest man in the building. If people are bothered by me, they have proper channels to deal with it through if it's a problem. If they just want to mutter amongst themselves about it rather than deal with it, that's okay too. Consider your sources too (sidenote: a little sniffing around has led me to believe that this nosy thing goes no further than her good work-buddy Crazy Cougar Receptionist). But we really shouldn't talk about this now when you've got a line of people waiting at the till."

Cafeteria Lady: "Well, we won't talk of it ever again."

Rimmy: "That's up to you. About all I'd be interested in is what prompted your timing on it."

And I went to go eat my muffin. The smell overhyped it, as it was rather mediocre. Bah.

DiceGimp is as annoying as ever. He finally got his computer a week or two ago. He's endlessly bringing it up so that anybody around will ooh and ah over how awesome it is, and presumably by extension, how awesome he is.

It's an Athlon 2800. That's fine, but it ain't fast, it ain't new, and you're not awesome because you bought it. Romanian Guy brought in a copy of the Hub, a free paper you find at the SkyTrain terminals that showed you could buy the same machine for half the price ($359 as opposed to the $700 DiceGimp paid), or two for one.

On the payday before this last one, DiceGimp moved his account from wherever to TD Canada Trust. He did this because the bank was offering a free iPod Shuffle to people that moved an existing account to them. He got his iPod in the middle of last week.

DiceGimp: "Yup, got me a new toy today."

Rimmy: "Didn't you already buy an mp3 player a month ago?"

DiceGimp: "Yeah, but it's not working anymore."

Rimmy: "Are you surprised? I spend more money on cereal in a month than you spent on that thing."

DiceGimp: "So I picked up this little toy today. It's pretty cool."

Rimmy: "If I remember the promotion properly, they mail them to you. How did you pick it up?"

DiceGimp: "How did you know I got it from the bank? How do you know that I didn't buy it in the store?"

Rimmy: Sigh. "Two reasons. One, it's more than two days after payday so you're broke. And two, you told everybody that you moved your account specifically so you could get the very iPod you're holding in your hand right now."

DiceGimp: "It's pretty cool. It's got sixty gigabytes of song storage."

Rimmy: "No it doesn't. It's an iPod Shuffle."

DiceGimp: "How do you figure? It says it's got sixty gigabytes of storage right on the box!"

Rimmy: "Then you'd better go to the press with the news that there are fake iPod boxes being printed up, because last I checked there were no Shuffles with more than one gig. Although I think some come with less as well."

note: DiceGimp doesn't know what a gigabyte is. He's fuzzily remembering The Romanian and I talking computer specs and trying to trump us by having something with "bigger numbers". Later in the week he'll mention that his computer has a 400 gig hard drive.

DiceGimp: "Well, that's what it says on the box."

Rimmy: "Lucky you, getting a lab prototype."

I won't even go into DiceGimp getting an old Fido phone off of a friend and activating it. You'd think he was one of the brave pioneers of his age, going for one of these new-fangled phones that don't even need wires. He made a big production out of charging it up at work, and phoning both myself and Buffalo Kisser up to call his "new phone" to "see if it was working properly".

Rimmy: "You have the work phone you're calling me on. Call your phone on that if you want to test it."

DiceGimp: "I already did, I just want to see if it can get calls from other phones."

Jesus Tapdancing Christ.

Rimmy: "If it works with one incoming call, it'll work with them all."

No way do I want this guy's phone number. None of these jokers have mine, or even my email address. How did that Fremen saying from Dune go? "Never be in the company of anybody you wouldn't want to die with"?

God, I hope I don't die at work.

The Romanian is going to Romania in October for four to seven weeks for a visit. The as-yet undecided length of stay is due to him constantly revamping his budget.

However, he also wants to pick up a digital camera for his trip, as well as replace his current monitor with something newer. By pure fluke, he's looking at a monitor that I've been considering for myself. He can't afford to buy the monitor unless he sells his existing one, however. On that happy day he'll take the cash and go get the new one. So for a couple of months he's been half-assedly trying to sell it, especially to DiceGimp as the computer that he was going to buy/has bought (depending on which time we're talking) didn't come with one. DiceGimp always says he's going to buy it, but then blows his cash the moment he gets paid. And then promises next time.

So a week ago, on The Romanian's last shift for the week and after he left (at 0600, rather than the 0800 DiceGimp and I are done at) I idly mentioned that I was thinking of buying The Romanian's monitor.

DiceGimp: "What? Why would you do that?"

Rimmy: "Well, he's dropped the price pretty low and it's a good monitor for the price. A little small and slow for me to really use, but I could put it on my drive farm. I have a little fifteen inch tube on that one that I wouldn't mind replacing."

note: the monitor in question is a seventeen inch 12 ms 700:1 Samsung. If I really bought it, I'd just put it as my second monitor on the machine I'm typing on now. The drive farm is fine with the one it has now, since I almost never have to use it. I'm really just putting a bit of pressure on DiceGimp to buy the damn thing already and be done with it.

DiceGimp: "That would really screw me, man. I'm stuck using this really old monitor on my fancy new machine, and I wouldn't mind upgrading to something bigger."

Rimmy: "That's fine, the stores are full of monitors. The Romanian has stuff to do before he leaves on his trip, and I'd hate to see him screwed on this."

DiceGimp: "I'm not going to screw him, I told him on what paycheque I'd be able to take it off his hands."

Rimmy: "Yeah, about three different times now? Or has it been four?"

DiceGimp: "I have expenses man. Rent, food, bills. It's expensive."

Rimmy: "Spare me. We all have the same expenses. If you'd put fifty dollars aside each paycheque since The Romanian's been offering this thing to you, you'd have it now. I've got the cash now, and I don't mind helping The Romanian out."

We left it at that. Half a week passes, and The Romanian comes back on shift. Since I get there before DiceGimp, I inform The Romanian of what I said to DiceGimp to put the pressure on him. The Romanian is delighted.

We chew the fat about various things for a bit, and then he gets a call from... DiceGimp. It seems that DiceGimp is going to be late, but he is coming. That's fine. I head off to do one of my full patrols.

About halfway through, The Romanian calls me up to tell me that DiceGimp has arrived, and he's brought a box of Timbits, and that I should get my ass down there before they're all eaten. Laughing to myself at how obvious DiceGimp is, I tell The Romanian to knock himself out and eat them all, and that I'll be down when I'm done my patrol.

Eventually I make it down, and the Romanian is trailing his fingers through the empty box hoping to pick up some powdered sugar to lick. DiceGimp is presumably out on his bike or watching tv somewhere.

The Romanian: "Hey man, you should have had some of these things! They were mmm mmm magnifique!"

Rimmy: "That's okay dude, I suspect they were for you anyway."

The Romanian: "I'm glad you tipped me off about what you told DiceGimp - as soon as he came in the door he said 'Here you go, some nice fresh Timbits for you.' Then he dropped to a more conspiratorial tone and said 'So... we still have that deal between us for that monitor, right?' and, remembering what you'd said to him, I said 'Well, I'd like to help you out but if someone offered me cash I'd have to sell it to them.'"

We both laugh.

Rimmy: "Tell you what, when do we all work together next? Thursday night? I'll bring the cash then, and we'll see what he does."

The Romanian: "What, you're going to buy the monitor? I thought it was all just a joke!"

Rimmy: "It is, but if worse comes to worse I can buy it and then sell it to DiceGimp so the pressure's not on you anymore. I know you've got only a short time before your trip."

The Romanian: "He's going to be so mad!"

Rimmy: "Even madder when I raise the price by fifty bucks..."

We laugh again. Good times. ;)

I know I'm an ass to DiceGimp, no need to point it out. What you're spared, however, is the sheer bloodyminded volume of his irritatingness (not a word, but I like it). I can expect no less than two phone calls an hour from him, and sometimes more. It's a rare shift I don't have twenty calls logged from him.

"The moon looks weird tonight." "I saw some crows, but they were going the wrong way." "What do we do if we see a guy sleeping on the lawn of a building that's not part of our site?" "How high does the elevator in your tower go to?" "How do you cook a lobster?" "I saw a skunk tonight and scared it away from some Telus protestors." (as he further described that scene, it turns out that it was better than fifty meters from the protestors, and heading away from them. Nonetheless, he felt he was instrumental in preventing a skunk-related stinking) "It's raining out, and I got wet." "It's windy out and I can feel it pushing me." "It's hot/cold/wet/dry/light/dark outside." "The sun came up." "The brake lever for my front wheel is wiggly." "I'm hungry." "I'm going to go shopping for a bunch of stuff this weekend." (no you're not, you don't get paid this weekend and you already told us you're broke and tried to bum money for McDonald's) "I was thinking of this time when I did ." (like when he said he helped grade biology papers for a 'college teacher buddy'. Upon questioning, it turns out that DiceGimp is barely capable of spelling biology, nevermind grading a paper and not a multiple choice test. Just like we used to do for Polish guy, I advised DiceGimp to keep his lies to believable things)

This is just off the top of my head. All of this might be from a single night. Someday I'll record a night's worth of this nonsense and put the audio files up on the blog for all of you nonbelievers. :P

My S/S, Barney, is skirting the edge of being removed. So my sources inform me. It's a crapshoot right now on whether he's going to take the rest of us with him. Apparently I'm in the good books with The Powers That Be, but one out of four may not be enough to convince them that our company is worth keeping on. I'll maybe know more in a couple of weeks.

Phrase that most amused one of my friends this past week:

Why does my zipper always sound louder when I'm hiding in someone's closet?

Phrase that most amused my mother, though she thought it was horrible as well:

Abstinence makes the church grow fondlers!

Most disturbing song I've heard in a while: Voltaire singing The Chosen. I've heard some of his other stuff before, courtesy of Fictional Correspondant, and it was funny and sarcastic. So I wasn't prepared for the difference in this song. And indeed, the entire album it's from is uncomfortably dark. Download the song and experience schitzophrenia. =8^O

And finally, the worst pickup line I've heard in a while, overheard from the patio of the pub "Scruffy McGuire's" that's right next to the stairs up to the SkyTrain terminal I take every night:

"So I said to her, 'How do you like your eggs in the morning - scrambled or fertilized?'"

Yeesh.

Occam's Razor: It slices! It dices! It removes superfluous supernatural entities!

After a hot day of neverending exercise, I find that

Satsuma Soap Suds Smell Sweet.

I love random rooster fisticuffs, train-top brawls, derailed platforms resulting in crashes into fine dining establishments, destruction of high society quartets, beatings delivered by cello, pier destruction by cruise ship, random bludgeonings of air traffic controllers, and having my chicken nuggets prepared by airplane propeller.

And if you have any idea what I'm referencing, I want to violate you in ways that leather, raspberries, and whipped cream have only dreamed of being used in.

I find this nonsense about "Creationism is as valid as evolution and should be taught alongside" incredibly frustrating. So the next step is...

Evangelical Scientists Refute Gravity With New 'Intelligent Falling' Theory

KANSAS CITY, KS - As the debate over the teaching of evolution in public schools continues, a new controversy over the science curriculum arose Monday in this embattled Midwestern state. Scientists from the Evangelical Center for Faith-Based Reasoning are now asserting that the long-held "theory of gravity" is flawed, and they have responded to it with a new theory of Intelligent Falling.



"Things fall not because they are acted upon by some gravitational force, but because a higher intelligence, 'God' if you will, is pushing them down," said Gabriel Burdett, who holds degrees in education, applied Scripture, and physics from Oral Roberts University.

Burdett added: "Gravity - which is taught to our children as a law - is founded on great gaps in understanding. The laws predict the mutual force between all bodies of mass, but they cannot explain that force. Isaac Newton himself said, 'I suspect that my theories may all depend upon a force for which philosophers have searched all of nature in vain.' Of course, he is alluding to a higher power."

Founded in 1987, the ECFR is the world's leading institution of evangelical physics, a branch of physics based on literal interpretation of the Bible.

According to the ECFR paper published simultaneously this week in the International Journal Of Science and the adolescent magazine God's Word For Teens!, there are many phenomena that cannot be explained by secular gravity alone, including such mysteries as how angels fly, how Jesus ascended into Heaven, and how Satan fell when cast out of Paradise.

The ECFR, in conjunction with the Christian Coalition and other Christian conservative action groups, is calling for public-school curriculums to give equal time to the Intelligent Falling theory. They insist they are not asking that the theory of gravity be banned from schools, but only that students be offered both sides of the issue "so they can make an informed decision."

"We just want the best possible education for Kansas' kids," Burdett said.

Proponents of Intelligent Falling assert that the different theories used by secular physicists to explain gravity are not internally consistant. Even critics of Intelligent Falling admit that Einstein's ideas about gravity are mathematically irreconcilable with quantum mechanics. This fact, Intelligent Falling proponents say, proves that gravity is a theory in crisis.

"Let's take a look at the evidence," said ECFR senior fellow Gregory Lunsden. "In Matthew 15:14, Jesus says, 'And if the blind lead the blind, both shall fall into the ditch.' He says nothing about some gravity making them fall - just that they will fall. Then, in Job 5:7, we read, 'But mankind is born to trouble, as surely as sparks fly upwards.' If gravity is pulling everything down, why do the sparks fly upwards with great surety? This clearly indicates that a conscious intelligence governs all falling."

Critics of Intelligent Falling point out that gravity is a provable law based on empirical observations of natural phenomena. Evangelical physicists, however, insist that there is no conflict between Newton's mathematics and Holy Scripture.

"Closed-minded gravitists cannot find a way to make Einstein's general relativity match up with the subatomic quantum world," said Dr. Ellen Carson, a leading Intelligent Falling expert known for her work with the Kansan Youth Ministry. "They've been trying to do it for the better part of a century now, and despite all their empirical observation and carefully compiled data, they still don't know how."

"Traditional scientists admit they they cannot explain how gravitation is supposed to work," Carson said. What the gravity-agenda scientists need to realize is that 'gravity waves' and 'gravitons' are just secular words for "God can do whatever He wants.'"

Some evangelical physicists propose that Intelligent Falling provides an elegant solution to the central problem of modern physics.

"Anti-falling physicists have been theorizing for decades about the 'electromagnetic force,' the 'weak nuclear force,' the 'strong nuclear force,' and so-called 'force of gravity,'" Burdett said. "And they tilt their findings toward trying to unite them into one force. But readers of the Bible have already known for millennia what this one, unified force is: His name is Jesus."

Little known fact: the tan originally became popular in what is now known as The Bronze Age.

Haven't done the bigger update I was planning, but just wanted to let my fingers vomit forth that over the weekend I was locked in a one-room building full of electronics for twelve hours overnight. Couldn't go outside (or indeed, open the door), couldn't open any windows, and it wasn't big enough to patrol. Cue intense boredom despite my books.

So my focus went inward, and the radio had a "Hits from the 80's" show going. So I took a trip backwards to when I went from kid to hormone-soaked proto-adult. Lots of issues date from back then, and so I got to lift them out of the trunk, air them a bit, and put them away a little less pungent than they were before. Ah, healing - who knew Prince and Roxette would be your avatars?

I've also noticed that we're a scant few weeks away from the twentieth anniversary of the start of what was probably the most wrenching and cataclysmic year of my life. I'm still coming to grips with scars that seem to stretch back to then, damnit.

Fortunately, I didn't become either a basket case or take the Charles Whitman "death by cop" way out. But it's still a touchy time.

Of course, I'm feeling much better now. ;)

On a totally different time scale, I've got some very supportive friends who appear to recognise certain salient features of my last relationship that I didn't need to point out, but are important.

Which means that they're not sympathetic because they're friends, but rather because of their own assessment of things. That's loads better than sycophantic "I feel for you man, I really feel for you!" support any day, in my opinion.

One of them even posted his opinion fairly openly on his blog, albeit at the end of an entry where he was detailing a trip he took. He didn't rip on anybody, just said he didn't like some things, and disagreed with others. And the result?

Censure.

Apparently the principals concerned rant and rave to everybody they can corner about it, but who actually does anything about it? One of their moms. And her comments on the blog, to be found here, sounds more like lip service from a church flyer than anything else. They don't touch on what was said, or who did what.

So here's some advice: judge things for yourself, as is natural. but as I said in a previous entry, "We accept too damned many things on the explanation of people who could have good reasons for lying".

Some of us have heard from (or been one of) both parties involved. Some haven't. Which of those two camps do you fall into, mom-talking-but-not-saying-anything-of-substance-for-someone-old-enough-to-fight-his-own-battles? One is informed, the other is opinionated. Opinionated tends to be loud and preachy, but doesn't really stack up to informed except in volume.

And if you have any doubts, refer up above where I've thoughtfully bolded something for you to consider.


From the Church of the Screaming Electron (orgies held after mass on Saturdays),
The Right Awesome Rimmy

A recent girl is easy and likes cute shape!

There once was an artist named Saint,
Who swallowed some samples of paint;
All shades of the spectrum,
Flowed out of his rectum;
With a colourful lack of restraint.

Somehow this morning the length of DiceGimp's employment came up. I think it might have been because right before Buffalo Kisser left, one of us called DiceGimp "new guy".

He bridled at this a bit, but the conversation went on and I forgot about it. Until he called me and said that he'd been here a long time and wasn't the new guy anymore.

So I looked on my blotter/calendar and counted it off for him - as of today he's been here for exactly thirteen weeks, and I told him so.

Him: "How do you know when I started here?"

Me: "Uh, because I was here. I was here when the guy before you started. And the guy before that. I was here when Buffalo Kisser started. In fact, I was here when your job was created. Christ man, you've been here for three months! The fact that you shouldn't have any memories of this place from before that ought to be a bit of a pointer."

Gleefully, he said "That's where you're wrong! Here in my notebook the first entry is from the fifth of April! A whole month earlier! Learn your dates, buddy!"

Me: "The guy you're replacing left on his trip to India in mid-April, and there were a few temporary guys that filled the shift before you showed up. Did you ever work with the guy you replaced (Indian Guy)?"

Him: "No."

Me: "So then how is it you think you replaced him before he left?"

Him: "It's right here in my notebook! Read 'em and weep!"

Me: "I've seen the fiction you write in your reports, why do you think that anything you've written in your notebook would convince me of something I was here for?"

Him: "You're wrong finally - and I'm going to make sure everybody knows it!"

Me: "Whatever gets you through the night. I've got to do a patrol now."

As I looped out to do my patrol, I had to pass him. In a last attempt to convince him that he hadn't been here that long, I pointed out that he didn't get stat pay for the May long weekend, but he did for Canada Day. His company only requires that you work one month or six weeks (I can't remember which, but it's way less than the customary three months) before you're eligable for stat pay.

Nonetheless, he was smugly unconvinced.

When I came back from my patrol, he was gone off on his own. So as I was writing my report, he called me.

Me: "What can I do for you?"

Him: "I'm just calling to let you know that you were right, and I'm an idiot."

Me: "I already know all of that. What's prompted this?"

Him: "Well, I guess I wrote the date backwards in my notebook, so instead of month-day-year I wrote day-month-year. And so since I started on May fourth I thought it said April fifth."

Me: "Don't you find it odd that you were convinced you had been here an extra month not because you had any memory of that, but because you wanted to believe I was wrong, and you misread something in your notebook?"

Him: "Not really, I have a really bad memory."

Me: "Apparently."

Afterwards, and somewhat defensively, he kept bringing up things that he could do, or things that he said he was knowledgeable about and wanted to compare. Basically, he wanted me to demonstrate being wrong to mitigate his blunder earlier. An actual, I kid you not example:

Him: "Well, at least I can pat my head and rub my stomach at the same time."

Oh yeah, that'll teach me.

Me: "Is that so?"

Him: "Yeah, see?"

And of course he screws it up. Pats both, then corrects to rub his stomach. I'm amused, but I manage to keep it in.

Me: "Yes, that's very impressive."

Of course, he knows he screwed it up, so he demonstrates again. This time he starts by patting his head, and after a few beats he starts rubbing his stomach.

Me: "Isn't the whole point to start doing two totally different things at the same time?"

So he tries again. Blows it.

Again. Screws up.

Once more. Do I even need to tell you?

About this time one of the people that I let sneak into the cafeteria for breakfast shows up and I let him in. When I come back, DiceGimp asks me if the guy wondered what the hell he was doing.

I said "Oh yeah, he wanted to know why anybody over the age of three was still having trouble with all that."

And I didn't have to see anymore demonstrations.

Mind you, DiceGimp then said that I should do it. Note that it's 0700 and we're in a giant glass room at the front of the building, showcased for the entire park. People are in their offices above, behind, and in front of us. No way am I going to make myself look more stupid than my reflective jacket already makes me.

I asked him why, and he said "So you can prove that you can do it."

I point out that I never said I could do it. He replies that that's why I should do it - to prove I can.

I reiterate that no proof is necessary, since I've not given a statement on whether I can do it or not, hoping that will confound him.

Catching on, he asks if I can pat my head and rub my stomach at the same time. I tell him I have no idea, since it's been so long since I've tried.

"Well, that's why you have to prove it!"

Sigh.

I don't know if it's me, or if it's everybody else, but I'm finding the reactions/moods of people at my site to be negative towards me. Normally in a choice between "me or everybody else", it turns out that it's not everybody else, but this time I'm not sure.

Last Friday, there was this exchange between me and the lady who runs the cafeteria. I went in and saw her there, and jokingly said "Hey, you're here! How did you get past my ever-vigilant eye? I bet you snuck in the back door, didn't you?"

This was all very light, and the tone indicated that. Plus, she and I have always got along well in this vein.

She said "I was trying to avoid you. We need to get you a life, but no woman will want to be with anybody who's so nosy."

Er, what?

"You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to buy you a notebook and a pencil and you can write down everything that goes on in this place."

Thinking this was a joke, I pulled out my notebook and flipped through the couple of hundred pages I've written in there. "What, like this you mean?"

Note: my notebook is primarily a record of what time I finished doing patrols. The only other stuff in there tends to be when something happens, like a crime or something needing maintainance. It really isn't a place I write down gossip or who does what.

She was flabbergasted. Her mouth gaped as her chin touched her chest. When she recovered, she said "We need to get you a life!" and, a moment later when an employee came to pay for her coffee, she said to the employee "Do you see this guy here? He's the nosiest man in the building!"

Her tone wasn't joking or light. I wondered if there was actually something wrong here.

The employee eyed me and I shrugged. She said "What a thing to be famous for."

What could I say? All I managed was "Notoriety is heaps better than obscurity." I got an appreciative look from the employee for that, so all was well there.

As it was time for me to get back to wandering around, the cafeteria lady said "We're going to have to give you a new name since you're so nosy. How about Mr. Buttinski? Yeah, that's a good one!"

I laughed, but I'm not sure she was kidding.

And every day since then, I notice people have been a little more restrained with me, even to the point of just nodding when I say good morning to them. I've caught people in groups of two or three staring at me.

I'm wondering if I've made some social gaffe that I'm unaware of, and if it's pissed off everybody. But how to even ask?

Ah well, we'll see what happens. Or if my paranoia settles down to a more reasonable level. :P

Next blog, I'll recount what DiceGimp seems to feel one of the necessities of life is. This came about because I was looking to codify an economic system as a rebuttle to some of the conversations I've been having with Kibilz lately, mostly about unions. He's blasted off a blog about some of it, which you can read here.

Blog title from a t-shirt found here.