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.