I should keep the shift - even less of a life but more than double the pay!

The Earth's atmosphere now contains a percentage of carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gasses that is higher than it has been since the end of the Cretaceous. This means more heat from the sun is being trapped in our air, and the high-pressure cells we saw this year are bigger, warmer, and loft higher in the tropical atmosphere. Many common jet-stream patterns have been disrupted, and the storms spiraling out of the Tropics have gained in both frequency and intensity. The hurricane season in the Atlantic ran from April to November, and there were eight hurricanes and six tropical storms. Typhoons in the East Pacific happened all year, twenty-two all told. Mass flooding resulted, but it should be noted that in other regions droughts have been breaking records.

So the effects have been various, but the changes are general and pervasive, and the damage for the year was recently estimated at six hundred billion dollars, with deaths in the tens of thousands. So far the United States has escaped major catastrophe (New Orleans notwithstanding), and attention to the problem has not been one of the administration's central concerns. "In a healthy economy the weather isn't important," the President remarked. But the possibility is there that the added energy in the atmosphere could trigger what climatologists call abrupt climate change. How that might begin, no one can be sure.

That was an easy shift. I knocked off more patrols than I usually do, mostly to stave off the boredom. You'd think a boring place would be incentive to do something, but apparently I'm not really blessed with guards who work like that.

And my folks brought me wonton and potstickers. Yay!

But my useless weekly graveyard guy was extra late relieving me. On the one day of the week that transit shuts down earlier. Yup, cab ride. I should really beat the twenty bucks out of him, but I only have to hold out for another week and then he's gone. My teeth are going to be ground down to nubs by then.

The cab driver couldn't believe that I'd just worked that long. "You look so fresh!" he exclaimed.

Those who know me know that I've never looked fresh in my life. I look fresh in the way that a shirt at the bottom of a hamper is fresh by dint of having been in there the longest.

I tipped him anyway. ;)

Nobody listened when I said I'd smelled it on him before. But NOW they're listening!

Robot submarines cruise the depths, doing oceanography. Slocum gliders and other AUVs (autonomous underwater vehicles), like torpedoes with wings, dock in underwater observatories to recharge their batteries and download their data. Finally oceanographers have almost as much data as the meteorologists. Among other things they monitor a deep layer of relatively warm water that flows from the Atlantic into the Arctic. (ALTEX, the Atlantic Layer Tracking EXperiment)

But they are not as good at it as the whales. White beluga whales, living their lives in the open ocean, have been fitted with sensors for recording temperature, salinity and nitrate content, matched with a GPS record and a depth meter. Up and down in the blue world they sport, diving deep into the black realm below, coming back up for air, recording data all the while. Casper the Friendly Ghost, Whitey Ford, The Woman in White, Moby Dick, all the rest: they swim to their own desires, up and down undlessly within their immense territories, fast and supple, continuous and thorough, capable of great depths, pale flickers in the blackest blue, the bluest black. Then back up for air. Our cousins. White whales help us to know this world. The warm layer is attenuating.

It was late Saturday night. Or rather, it had just tipped over into Sunday morning. I was hip-deep in dwarves and mountain trolls, raining pain and hailing hurt in all directions, hoping to unlock more of the map in Guild Wars, when my phone rang. It was the site.

Hmmm, right on a shift change. Valium Wailer never calls me, and neither does The Sleeper. I'll bet whichever it is, they don't have anything good to tell me.

It was Valium Wailer. Follow the bouncing ball:

When Valium Wailer got to the site, instead of finding The Sleeper out of his uniform standing outside ready to thrust the keys, radio and phone into his hands so he can leave, there was nobody.

Peering through the glass of the foyer and into reception, he could see The Sleeper apparently walking in a tight (maybe a meter in diameter) circle. After knocking on the glass and waving for about five minutes, The Sleeper finally noticed him and came to let him in. He gave him the keys and headed off.

Valium Wailer says "The Sleeper, what about the radio and phone? Where are they?"

The Sleeper replies "Oh, they're in there somewhere."

"The Sleeper, are you okay?" asks Valium Wailer.

The Sleeper gives a strange laugh and says "I'm great!" and heads off. But his straight line is marred by an oblique shuffle to the side, and a bit of a stumble down the three steps outside.

Valium Wailer thought the whole episode was weird, but you get used to that with The Sleeper. So in he goes and quickly finds the phone and radio. A minute or so later the phone rings. It's the bike patrol guys, saying they've found The Sleeper in the middle of the road outside practically in front of the building. He's stone drunk and unable to walk. He's currently crawling towards the sidewalk.

That's when Valium Wailer calls me. I call my company as soon as he's done. The bike patrol guys have already called them. Round and round go the calls.

Over the course of twentysix minutes or so, The Sleeper manages to get half a block. He falls down, crawls, holds himself up with trees, loses his glasses. My field manager heads over to check it out and ultimately takes him home.

Quote from him: "I've worked as an F/M for years, and I've never seen a guard that drunk. The only thing I ever saw close to that was on New Year's when a guard had been to a party before his shift, but even he wasn't this bad."

He suspended The Sleeper on the spot, pending him meeting with our operations manager on Monday. And I got to work the sixteen hour shift on Sunday. With about five hours notice. Subtract the hour or so it takes to get to work, and I wasn't going to end up with much sleep. Ah well, a small price to pay for finally getting rid of The Sleeper.

"Oh yeah, you were just getting changed for prom. Yeah, I'll buy that."

What's new from the Department of Unfortunate Statistics?

Extinction rate in oceans now faster than on Land. Coral reef collapses leading to mass extinctions; Thirty percent of warm-water species estimated gone. Fishing stocks depleted, UN declares scaleback necessary or commercial species will crash.

Topsoil loss nears a million acres a year. Deforestation now faster in temperate than tropical forests. Only 35% of tropical forests left.

The average Indian consumes 200 kilograms of grain a year; the average American, 800 kilograms; the average Italian, 400 kilograms. The Italian diet was rated best in the world for heart disease.

300 tons of weapons-grade uranium and plutonium unaccounted for. High mutation rate of microorganisms near radioactive waste-treatment sites. Antibiotics in animal feed reduce medical effectiveness of antibiotics for humans. Environmental estrogens suspected in lowest-ever human sperm counts.

Two billion tones of carbon added to the atmostphere this year. One of the five hottest years on record. The fed hopes U.S. economy will grow by four percent in the final quarter.

Finally, a day where nothing happened. When Valium Wailer came in to relieve me I told him about the elevator grope from yesterday, and that spun us into recounting the various episodes of coitus interruptus we've had working security.

And he wins. Way more lesbians in his stories than in mine. :P

Although I noted that he often feels like he's uncertain of what to do when he encounters people having sex on a site where they're not supposed to, whereas I either make some obvious noise (if I know who they are) so they have a chance to pull themselves together (not like that, pervert) before I appear around the corner, or else I appear as close as possible (usually this is when they're in a car) and tap on the glass. People doing Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon moves as they attempt to spinning whirl off of each other and into their pants keeps me laughing all night.

It's possible I'm a bit of a jerk. Hmmmm

The Humpty Dance, is your chance, to do the hump!

Water flows through the oceans in steady recycling patterns, determined by the Coriolis force and the particular positions of the continents in our time. Surface currents can move in the opposite direction to bottom currents below them, and often do, forming systems like giant conveyor belts of water. The largest one is already famour, at least in part; the Gulf Stream is a segment of a warm surface current that flows north up the entire length of the Atlantic, all the way to Norway and Greenland. There the water cools and sinks, and begins a long journey south on the Atlantic Ocean floor, to the Cape of Good Hope and then east toward Australia, and even into the Pacific, where the water upwells and rejoins the surface flow, west to the Atlantic for the long haul north again. The round trip for any given water molecule takes about a thousand years.

Cooling salty water sinks more easily than cooling fresh water. Trade winds sweep clouds generated in the Gulf of Mexico west over Central America to dump their rain in the Pacific, leaving the remaining water in the Atlantic that much salties. So the cooling water in the North Atlantic sinks well, aiding the power of the Gulf Stream. If the surface of the North Atlantic were to become rapidly fresher, it would not sink so well when it cooled, and that could stall the conveyor belt. The Gulf Stream would have nowhere to go, and would slow down, and sink farther south. Weather everywhere would change, becoming windier and drier in the Northern Hemisphere, and colder in places, especially in Europe.

The sudden desalination of the North Atlantic might seem an unlikely occurrence, but it has happened before. At the end of the last Ice Age, for instance, vast shallow lakes were created by the melting of the polar ice cap. Eventually these lakes broke through their ice damns and poured off into the oceans. The Canadian shield still sports the scars from three or four of these cataclysmic floods; one flowed down the Mississippi, one the Hundson, one the St. Lawrence.

These flows apparently stalled the world ocean conveyor belt current, and the climate of the whole world changed as a result, sometimes in as little as three years.

Now, would the Arctic sea ice, breaking into bergs and flowing south past Greenland, dump enough fresh water into the North Atlantic to stall the Gulf Stream again?

I got off the Skytrain at the usual stop at about 0130. I walked the length of the platform to The World's Slowest Elevator (tm) past a host of transit cops, some of which were talking to the only other passenger on the train with me. She was laughing and chatting, so all was well.

I pushed the button and composed myself to wait. The woman came over to wait too. She wanted to talk.

"This elevator is probably the grossest one on the entire line," she says. I agreed, and noted that I hoped the usual pool of late-night urine in it didn't cover the entire floor.

"So," she says looking up at me, "are you just getting off work?"

"I am," I reply wittily.

Her: "What do you do?"

Me: "Security."

Her: "Ah. So do you think you could restrain me?"

Interesting.

Me: "Do you want me to put you up against the wall with your arm twisted behind your back?"

Her: "Absolutely!"

Me: "But not in this elevator."

Her: "No, definitely not."

At that moment, the elevator arrived and the doors slowly opened. There were a few whistles from across the tracks on the far side of the platform. We both turned and there was a guy whistling. She said "Oh" and laughed a bit.

I said, "Friend of yours?"

Her: "No, I think he was just checking out my ass."

Me: "How do you know it was your ass and not mine that he was checking out?"

The doors on the elevator closed. Two minute ride ensues.

Her: "You've got a point, but I can't see what you're packing under that jacket there."

At which point she investigates, sliding a hand up the side of my leg and firmly groping my ass.

"Yup, you've got a little something something there." she slurps in my ear.

For a change, I'm at a bit of a loss for a reply. Which is okay, because she continues the conversation.

Her: "I'm going out for a bit of fun tonight. Only for an hour or so though."

Me: "You can have fun and be home in an hour?"

Her: "Oh sure!"

Me: "Going out for a drink?"

"No, I've already had a few drinks." Then she nods her head in a way meant to indicate herself and says "Nympho."

The doors open, and with a final squeeze she headed out into the rain. I followed, but not her. I was heading to my bus stop.

I saw her heading off to a hotel/bar/lounge a block away, and looking back a few times. Was she inviting me, or just making sure I wasn't following her?

She was attractive enough, although not exactly pretty, but it was almost two in the morning and all I wanted to do was crash for a few hours. Either I'm getting old, or I'm recognising that my judgement isn't awesome late at night and shouldn't be acted on.

And I need all the love I can get!

Mathematics sometimes seems like a universe of its own. But it comes to us as part of the brain's engagement with the world, and appears to be part of the world, its structure or recipe.

Over historical time humanity has explored farther and farther into the various realms of mathematics, in a cumulative and collective process, an ongoing conversation between the species and reality. The discovery of the calculus. The invention of formal arithmetic and symbolic logic, both mathematicizing the instinctive strategies of human reason, making them as distinct and solid as geometric proofs. The attempt to make the entire system contained and self-consistent. The invention of set theory, and the finessing of the various paradoxes engendered by considering sets as members of themselves. The discovery of the incompletability of all systems. The step-by-step mechanics of programming new calculating machines. All this resulted in an amalgam of math and logic, the symbols and methods drawn from both realms, combining in the often long and complicated operations that we call algorithms.

In the time of the development of the algorithm, we also made discoveries in the real world: the double helix within our cells. DNA. Within half a century the whole genome was read, base pair by base pair. Three billion base pairs, parts of which are called genes, and serve as instruction packets for protein creation.

But despite the fully explicated genome, the details of its expression and growth are still very mysterious. Spiraling pairs of cytosine, guanine, adenine, and thymine: we know these are instructions for growth, for the development of life, all coded in sequences of paired elements. We know the elements; we see the organisms. The code between them remains to be learned.

Mathematics contunes to develop under the momentum of its own internal logic, seemingly independent of everything else. But several times in the past, purely mathematical developments have later proved to be powerfully descriptive of operations in nature that were either unknown or unexplainable at the time the math was being developed. This is a strange fact, calling into question all that we think we know about the relationship between math and reality, the mind and the cosmos.

Perhaps no explanation of this mysterious adherence of nature to mathematics of great subtlety will ever be forthcoming. Meanwhile, the operations called algorithms become ever more convoluted and interesting to those devising. Are they making portraits, recipes, magic spells? Does reality use algorithms, do genes use algorithms? The mathematicians can't say, and many of them don't seem to care. They like the work, whatever it is.

Stupid useless new temporary guy was late, really late. I hope I can hold my temper until the end of next week since he's leaving them. If I can't hold my temper, I'm going to instuct him on the uses of the garbage compactor out back. From the inside.

Fictional Correspondant called me when he thought I'd be off work (but I wasn't, as I had just let the aforementioned moron in and was briefing him), and said that he and his fire-chucking comet were coming to town in March, wanted a place to stay, and invited me to see the Sisters of Mercy with them.

Which is hip and dope and popping fresh.

People fighting over you, even if they don't exist, is kind of fun

The Earth is bathed in a flood of sunlight. A fierce inundation of photons - on average, 342 joules per second per square meter. 4185 joules (one Calorie) will raise the temperature of one kilogram of water by one degree CElsuis. If all this energy were captured by the Earth's atmosphere, its temperature would rise by ten degrees Celsuis in one day.

Luckily much of it radiates back into space. How much depends on albedo and the chemical composition of the atmosphere, both of which vary over time.

A good portion of the Earth's albedo, or reflectivity, is created by its polar ice caps. If polar ice and snow were to shrink significantly, more solar energy would stay on Earth. Sunlight would penetrate oceans previously covered by ice, and warm the water. This would add heat and melt more ice, in a positive feedback loop.

The Arctic Ocean ice pack reflects back out into space a few percent of the total annual solar energy budget. When the Arctic ice pack was first measured by nuclear submarines in the 1950s, it averaged thirty feet thick in midwinter. By the end of the century it was down to fifteen. Then one August the ice broke up into large tabular bergs, drifting on the currents, colliding and separating, leaving broad lanes of water open to the continuous polar summer sunlight. The next year the breakup started in July, and at times more than half the surface of the Arctic Ocean was open water. The third year, the breakup began in May.

That was last year.

Cafeteria Lady has been going off again. She's been trying to work Eyes and Ears and put me down. So... he's dicking with her.

She asked after Palooka, and he told her that he got a way better job with more money. She said that was good, and then said "That poor Rimmy guy, he probably can't get any other job than this one."

Seizing the opportunity (and not bothering to tell her that my annual has gone up thousands of dollars in just the past few months), he told her "Oh no, Rimmy's almost out of here. He got an offer for another site that pays (he quoted an hourly, but the effect was +$10000) more. We're trying to keep him, but I don't think we'll be able to budget that high.

"Oh. That's good then." Cafeteria Lady says. Then she turns to go, but Eyes and Ears gleefully noticed the smile that was playing on her lips, presumably because I was finally leaving the site. He's dying to see how far and fast she spreads this nonsensical story. ;)

At least I didn't gloat and stomp his cough*dignity*cough.

(ring)

Hmmm, work calling.

Me: "Hello?"

Cookie Monster: "Hi Rimmy, this is Cookie Monster. How are you doing?"

Me: "Fine, you?"

CM: "Same."

Me: "That's good."

(pause)

CM: "The reason I'm calling is that I've got this report from (useless new guy replacing Palooka) in my inbox with 'not done' on it. What's this about?"

Me: "Yeah, he's not doing squat. And I've followed him with the access system. He's just lying."

CM: "Okay, when you get in today check what he did this morning and call me back. I think I'll pull him in to the office and have a talk with him."

Me: "No problem."

CM: "The other reason I'm calling is that I've decided to bump your rate by (about four grand annually). We're also going to make you site supervisor there."

Me: "What's prompted this?" (knowing full well)

CM: "You're doing the job anyway, and you're in constant contact with the client and keeping good relations."

Me: "Okay."

CM: "So get back to me on what that guy did on his report this morning."

Me: "Will do."

About damn time. Now I just need the other six grand or so the client is paying for Barney's old salary, and I'm set.

exemplary Gays like lol1tas nutritious so they beauty and young

For the past few days, the client and I have been following the progress of the new guy. But it's awfully hard, because he doesn't do much.

For Wednesday morning's shift, he was sort of copying my style of notation for his report, and saying he'd done all sorts of things. Which is great!

Except that he didn't do them. Unless this guy is a safecracker, he's not getting into some of these places that he says he did.

The one the client was amused by the least was the "full patrol" he did at 0500. Except that according to the system, he didn't budge. From about 0315 to 0600.

So when he came in last night, I asked him how it was going with his patrols. "Good" he said.

"Do you go in here?" "Yes." "In there?" "Yes."

I did that for several areas, none of which he'd gone in. After I'd given him enough rope to hang him with, I mentioned how he didn't in fact go into any of those areas. He got upset and asked what was with the interrogation, and if it was going to be like this maybe this isn't the site for him.

Ah, it's wonderful when you get your desire across and let them think it's their idea, isn't it?

My field manager had been in earlier that night asking about the union stuf, and I asked if he new this new guy. When I gave him the name, his expression was priceless. "We can't keep that guy at a site for more than a few days because the supervisors end up screaming for him to be removed. He's probably the laziest guy we've got."

Thanks for sending him to me, big guy.

I showed him the guy's reports and the system log of what he actually did, and he took photocopies off to give to Cookie Monster.

Although in truth I suspect I'm stuck with the guy for the few weeks before he goes back to school.

After all of this, the new guy told me that he even fell asleep in the cafeteria for half an hour or so. That's just wonderful.

Oh, and did I mention that he called me at 0500 this morning? "There's a striker pad that isn't letting me open the door."

"You'll need to be a little more specific."

So he eventually gave me enough clues as to where he was, and he was trying to get through a deadbolted door without unlocked said deadbolt.

Then he asked where the server room was, that I told him he had to check every hour on the hour, three days ago.

[sarcasm]Oh yeah, I'm coming down too hard on him.[/sarcasm]

marblish Eighteen Gays gemotes hardcore

That was the subject line in the email from "Lane Camacho", a name I'm going to use if I ever need an alternate handle in a message forum. Ah, junk mail. Binned!

I was calm and unruffled going in to work yesterday. I'll admit I was curious about who'd done Palooka's graveyard shift, but that was about it.

So when I got there, I saw what had to be the worst report ever by some new guy. And by worst report, I mean that by his own written record he'd done absolutely nothing.

Well, except for bringing in the newspapers and "breadbaskets". That was duly noted next to the time.

When the client's Eyes and Ears saw me, he began chortling. "You'd better not take a bath for a week or so, man!" he said.

That was a bit obscure.

"She [the client] had your boss in here first thing in the morning and reamed the hell out of him! She said, in no uncertain terms, that he'd better take care of you because you're the only person from your company worth having and we'd hate to see you leave. She gave him two weeks to comply."

Ah, he thought my boss would have to kiss my ass. That explains the suggested bath boycott.

Sweet Jesus, "take care of me"?! He's gonna send me to sleep wit da fishes!

Unfortunately, she met with Cookie Monster before Eyes and Ears could give her the extensive records and analysis of The Sleeper and his utter lack of performance. She was apparently furious that she didn't have that to hammer Cookie Monster with, and I hope that she doesn't let it slide. How often can an affirmative thrust like this happen?

About half an hour into the shift I got a call from... Cookie Monster. He asked me if I was on site, then said "Of course you must be. It's 1630." Good save, assmonkey. You called me on the site phone too. He then asked if I could meet him out front.

When I got out there, he didn't offer to shake hands or anything, but he did look at me searchingly for an extended beat. After that, he asked if I'd spoken to The Client. I told him that I hadn't. He asked me if I knew what was going on, to which I responded with all of the stupidity I could feign "No, what?"

He said that the client was concerned about union organizers being on the site, taking advantage of all the managers being away (that was last week, and they're all back now). He said that he had a long talk with The Client (emphasis his - I don't know if he was trying to express to me that he talks to people above my head and thus has secret knowledge or what) and she wants us to escort people off the site if they're not employees (standard) and if we see anybody in the common areas (outside basically, or the lobby) or if we see any union materials on a desk or anything, we're to contact the director of HR.

He'd already told this to The Sleeper, he said, and he also had a pair of plainclothes in the cafeteria for some of the day trying to eavesdrop on conversations.

Wow.

Pardon my urdu, but isn't it highly dubious to be reporting on union activity in a publicly traded company in this manner? In fact, scratch "highly dubious" and replace it with "illegal".

Anybody out there have a legal opinion on this?

Interestingly enough, after I met the new guy and straightened him out about a few things, he mentioned that a couple of our managers (one in charge of mobile, oddly enough, and of the same rank as Cookie Monster) came by at the end of his shift and took his keys away.

They were back where I usually have them locked by the time I got on, but I'm wondering now just what the hell was going on. I don't particularly trust my company, although I suspect they were using them for the plainclothes to move around.

Still, for them to know that I lock them in a drawer from which only myself and the client can remove them smacks of The Sleeper talking to Cookie Monster (since I instituted that after we got rid of Barney).

Wheels within wheels.

Seriously, my company sucks.

Various minor dumbassery at work, then Thursday night comes around. The Sleeper shows up.

He'd been phoned that very morning to come in, but nobody at the office bothered to tell me that Palooka had got his new site (a good one - he's at a clinic with a raise, his OFA 2, and a four day/four day schedule of twelve hour shifts).

The Sleeper is not allowed to work graveyards at the site. Even Barney recognised that. But there he was.

Sooooooooooo...

That was the squaw that stroked the camel's sack for the client. She'll be in today (Monday) from Calgary, and apparently (from the hints that her Eyes and Ears dropped to me) she's prepared to write us all off.

Yay.

I guess I'll find out shortly.

What would you call it if you cooked Jewish cuisine with your mind? Tele-knishes!

Fido. What a bunch of morons.

I got a highly suspicious letter sent to me in the name of the person that I got my cell phone from, so I opened it.

Oh, get over yourselves. I opened it because there's no valid mail after 1.5 years that would be sent care of me, since anybody important would have had their records for her address adjusted by now.

So anyway, I opened it. Collections letter for unpaid cell phone stuff from many moons ago.

Now before I explain about dealing with them, read this old post about previous fun with Fido.

Now, when I took over the phone all of the balance was to come over to me. And it did. Sometimes twice. I've got the bills to prove it.

But apparently Fido is unable to do basic math, and they decided that something that was paid was not, in fact, paid, and they've decided to ding the previous owner.

So I called them up. They listened (odd that every time I call them up I get someone in Quebec. Is it really that much cheaper to have a call centre there?) told me my balance was x, and what was the problem?

Not my balance, twits, this collections letter.

They said they couldn't do anything about it and I'd have to talk to the collection agency.

So I did. Big surprise, they can't do anything about it either, unless I pay it.

Fuckers.

Except that there's nothing owing - this is a screwup like the deposit thing found in the above referenced post. What a waste of skin these guys are.

Now, on to site stuff!

Thusday the bike patrol guys had a guard on from 1600-0000. He was from Punjab, and we talked about nothing except for which gurus we like best.

I'm into the first three, and maybe the fourth, but the rest are right out. And number eleven? Please - too susceptable to flame.

On Friday, they had a different guy still. And this guy was... worth having.

It was pouring rain and he didn't have an umbrella. So he went out in the rain. And I saw him from the upper floors when I looked out the window. He was checking every door of every building.

Even better, in a shocking twist, he caught somebody breaking in!

Yes, the guy was trying to pull out the lock cylinder with a pair of what sounded like channel locks. This guard backed off a few paces, told him to stop, and basically escorted the guy back to his car.

Which was great, because he didn't get his ass beat down by a guy with a tool and by escorting the guy to his car, he got the license and description, not to mention the description of the guy himself.

He came back to the lobby to write up his report (all calls were made too, locksmith, company, property manager), then since his jacket was soaking wet from the pouring rain, he draped it over a chair to dry and went back out in the rain!

For being a one day guard, this guy did pretty damn fine.

Yesterday there was another one-shot guard on. I said hi to him, and was regailed with his CV. On and on, and every third sentence he laughs and wants to shake hands.

A really nice guy, but he seems awfully desperate to talk about himself.

When DiceGimp showed up at 1800, he made the one-shot guy keep the phone that receives alarms and promptly vanished. Every alarm that came in he made the guy go and do (over the phone - he was nowhere to be found). One of them, however, he said he'd check. Half an hour goes by then he calls back the new guy and says that he doesn't have the number for the alarm company (untrue - I'm actually the one that programmed them into both of their phones months ago because they couldn't figure out how). Clearly this twit hadn't done shit.

Apparently one of their managers is coming to the site today to talk to Q-tip, who's fed up with his co-workers... well, there's no diminutive adjective I can use other than uselessness, so that's what I'm going with.

Hopefully DiceGimp will be gone.

And Palooka applied for a couple of different sites. If he gets one of them and moves on, does anybody want to lay odds on whether he keeps on calling me every damn night?