What the hell did I EAT?!
The female guard at the site delivered a long soliloquy about how she, as a mother, has a right to use the company cell phone to call home whenever she wants.
Myself and Buffalo Kisser's replacement disagreed, and I added that while she might have a desire to do so, she has no particular right. An employer isn't required to provide a means of communication for non-work related matters.
She asked something along the lines of "Don't you think it's important that if something happens, my kid can contact me?", and a few other questions of that ilk.
Of course I answered that I did, but that doesn't confer any particular right to have something, just because you want it. Want communication with your kid? Get a cell phone.
Friday night, I was telling our weekend graveyard guy about Alicia, and he had a story of his own.
When he's not doing weekends with my company, he works for a different security company at Metrotown, which is a big-ass mall for those not in the know. And he said that last February he and a partner found a group of people huddled in a stairwell in the underground parking area, and they had to be rousted.
While they were doing that, he noticed that one of them didn't belong. He stuck out because he was younger than the others, so this guard talked to him a bit.
It seems that the kid was twelve, just a hair away from being thirteen. He has a one year old son with a thirteen year old girl. He's sleeping in the stairwell instead of staying with his own mom because she's a crackhead, and she's not thirty yet. The age I sort of remember is twenty-six.
That's three generations of fucked right there.
I went out for dinner with the folks last night. But clearly my mind is rusting out fast because by the time I got out of the restaurant, I couldn't remember what I'd eaten. Neither could anybody else.
I mean, I remember having some nice meaty mahi mahi, and a piece of incredibly tender tuna, but I'll be damned to Montana if I can remember what the other thing was.
Some sort of fish, anyway. And it was good. But utterly unmemorable apparently.
Scored some clothes and a cake to eat the way I like it - in solitude. Huzzah!
Oh, and Cafeteria Lady avoided me on Friday again. Rumour (from the client's eyes and ears) has it that she's specifically avoiding me. Which is odd, because while I'm likely to make her feel fairly insignificant, she can't possibly know that ahead of time because I've not done that at work before.
And now I probably won't get the chance, since the client herself is in town today and will likely deal with it herself, instead of me getting to chain my Jun combos and see if I can get two rounds of victory...
Sorry, drifted into Tekken 2 there. My bad.
And before I go to work tomorrow and wander the cube maze, an old joke:
In prison, you spend the majority of your time in an 8' x 10' cell. At work you spend most of your time in a 6' x 8' cubicle.
In prison, you get three meals a day. At work, you only get a break for one meal and you have to pay for that one.
In prison you get time off for good behavior. At work, you get rewarded for good behavior with more work.
In prison a guard locks and unlocks all the doors for you. At work you must carry around a security card and unlock and open all the doors yourself.
In prison you can watch TV and play games. At work you get fired for watching TV and playing games.
In prison they ball and chain you when you go somewhere. At work you are just ball and chained.
In prison you get your own loot. At work, you have to share.
In prison they allow your family and friends to visit. At work, you cannot even speak to your family and friends.
In prison all expenses are paid by taxpayers, with no work required. At work you get to pay for all the expenses to go to work, and then they deduct taxes from your salary to pay for the prisoners.
In prison you spend most of your life looking through bars from the inside wanting to get out. At work you spend most of your time wanting to get out and inside bars.
In prison you can join many programs which you can leave at any time. At work there are some programs you can never get out of.
In prison there are wardens who are often sadistic. At work you have managers.
Myself and Buffalo Kisser's replacement disagreed, and I added that while she might have a desire to do so, she has no particular right. An employer isn't required to provide a means of communication for non-work related matters.
She asked something along the lines of "Don't you think it's important that if something happens, my kid can contact me?", and a few other questions of that ilk.
Of course I answered that I did, but that doesn't confer any particular right to have something, just because you want it. Want communication with your kid? Get a cell phone.
Friday night, I was telling our weekend graveyard guy about Alicia, and he had a story of his own.
When he's not doing weekends with my company, he works for a different security company at Metrotown, which is a big-ass mall for those not in the know. And he said that last February he and a partner found a group of people huddled in a stairwell in the underground parking area, and they had to be rousted.
While they were doing that, he noticed that one of them didn't belong. He stuck out because he was younger than the others, so this guard talked to him a bit.
It seems that the kid was twelve, just a hair away from being thirteen. He has a one year old son with a thirteen year old girl. He's sleeping in the stairwell instead of staying with his own mom because she's a crackhead, and she's not thirty yet. The age I sort of remember is twenty-six.
That's three generations of fucked right there.
I went out for dinner with the folks last night. But clearly my mind is rusting out fast because by the time I got out of the restaurant, I couldn't remember what I'd eaten. Neither could anybody else.
I mean, I remember having some nice meaty mahi mahi, and a piece of incredibly tender tuna, but I'll be damned to Montana if I can remember what the other thing was.
Some sort of fish, anyway. And it was good. But utterly unmemorable apparently.
Scored some clothes and a cake to eat the way I like it - in solitude. Huzzah!
Oh, and Cafeteria Lady avoided me on Friday again. Rumour (from the client's eyes and ears) has it that she's specifically avoiding me. Which is odd, because while I'm likely to make her feel fairly insignificant, she can't possibly know that ahead of time because I've not done that at work before.
And now I probably won't get the chance, since the client herself is in town today and will likely deal with it herself, instead of me getting to chain my Jun combos and see if I can get two rounds of victory...
Sorry, drifted into Tekken 2 there. My bad.
And before I go to work tomorrow and wander the cube maze, an old joke:
In prison, you spend the majority of your time in an 8' x 10' cell. At work you spend most of your time in a 6' x 8' cubicle.
In prison, you get three meals a day. At work, you only get a break for one meal and you have to pay for that one.
In prison you get time off for good behavior. At work, you get rewarded for good behavior with more work.
In prison a guard locks and unlocks all the doors for you. At work you must carry around a security card and unlock and open all the doors yourself.
In prison you can watch TV and play games. At work you get fired for watching TV and playing games.
In prison they ball and chain you when you go somewhere. At work you are just ball and chained.
In prison you get your own loot. At work, you have to share.
In prison they allow your family and friends to visit. At work, you cannot even speak to your family and friends.
In prison all expenses are paid by taxpayers, with no work required. At work you get to pay for all the expenses to go to work, and then they deduct taxes from your salary to pay for the prisoners.
In prison you spend most of your life looking through bars from the inside wanting to get out. At work you spend most of your time wanting to get out and inside bars.
In prison you can join many programs which you can leave at any time. At work there are some programs you can never get out of.
In prison there are wardens who are often sadistic. At work you have managers.
posted by Rimmy at 23:30
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