The slide into stupidity

The aforementioned slide was brought home to me at a personal level last night when I went to see Lucky Number Slevin and decided to take a leak before finding a seat. Standing in the midst of a row of men staring at the cyclopean occupancy sensor on the urinal, I found that I couldn't unlimber my dingus.

I'd put my underwear on backwards.

Now, I can't say that I normally put a whole lot of thought into my boxer alignment, because some things just become automatic. Not unlike the whole "pants first, then shoes" dressing hierarchy. But there it was - shorts undeniably on backwards, and me fumbling at my crotch for an unlikely period of time. People were starting to notice - even the guy who banged his bishop on the side of the drinking fountain to dry it.

I managed my business, and went to my movie. Here's what's happened in the past two weeks:

If you were to scroll down to my last entry on March 30, you'd know that I'd just trained a new guy to replace Yumpin' Yiminy, and that the next day I had to do a five hour stint at the Justice Institute.

Well, it didn't work out like that.

At the end of my shift on the same day I wrote that, my relief didn't show up. I gave a generous amount of time for him to show up or call, but finally I called Operations and let them know. So they put me on the list of things to do and I waited.

At 0115, they called me back, and they were pissed.

Ops: "Rimmy, we finally got hold of your guy. He's not coming in."

Me: "Say whaaaaaaaat?"

Ops: "We finally managed to wake him up, and he said that he didn't know he was supposed to work. We brushed that aside and asked if he'd come in now to relieve you, and he said that he had a headache."

Me: "Not as much of a headache as he's going to have when I club him like a baby seal."

Ops: "I hear you. So I hate to ask, but can you cover the rest of the shift?"

Me: "So... you know I have a special to do in the morning, right? At the JI from 0900 to 1400? Couple that with the sixteen hours I have to work here now and my shift here tomorrow leaves me working 29 out of 32 hours."

Ops: "Oh shit!"

Me: "Welcome to my world."

Ops: "Well, how about if we take you off that special?"

Me: "Up to you, but was having trouble finding people to do it in the first place. If you think you can find an HP flagged person to do it in time, go for it. I'd be happy for the sleep."

Ops: "I'm pissed off at this guy. It's his responsibility to know his schedule."

Me: "Especially since I told him he was working tonight."

Ops: "You did? For sure?"

Me: "Twice that I can recall."

Ops: "Can you do me up an IR (incident report) stating that, and get it out to me tonight? We'll take care of this for you right away."

Me: "Sure thing."

Ops: "Thanks for working the extra. Don't worry about the JI, no way are we going to make you work for that long."

Me: "I appreciate that."

Sigh. Work work work, all day long. Work work work while I sing this song...

Late Saturday night (or more properly, early Sunday morning), I got a call from Valium Wailer. He was calling to inform me that he had a trainee on site. Say whaaaaaat? They replaced my new guy (which I'm glad of), but the new guy isn't training with me. Ah well, I'll tighten up his training when I see him on Monday night.

That weekend, my mom was operating solo and so we went to a movie. She chose, and so we saw Inside Man. It wasn't bad, and it was nice to hit a movie again. And I hadn't done anything with my mom in a while that didn't involve an unshowered breakfast going, so that was good too.

There was a line to get into the theatre, so mom sat down and I rode the line. As I got to my spot, there was a woman in front of me talking to some other guy. She turned to me and asked on behalf of the guy if this line was for all the movies, or just Inside Man. I told her it was just for the one movie, and the guy went on his merry way.

She: "That's a great shirt!"

I was wearing my red Transformers shirt. I periodically get attention for it, exclusively from women. I have no idea why, but it's a pretty sweet shirt.

Rimmy: "Thanks."

She: "So do you think this movie is going to be any good?"

Rimmy: "Beats me. I'd rather have gone to V for Vendetta, but my mom gets to choose today."

She: "You're here with your mom? That's cool."

Rimmy: "Yup. All these years and the apron strings are still attached."

She: "So have you seen V for Vendetta yet?"

Rimmy: "No, but I'm going to for sure."

She: "It was really good."

Rimmy: "Did you read the comic? My bad, I mean illustrated novel?"

She: "Oh yes, I'm rather an intellectual and a neo-avant garde in regards to fringe literature."

No shit? Well, aren't you just the cat's ass?

Fortunately, she was being somewhat self-lampooning here, so I didn't think she was too full of herself. She was kind of cute, too.

We chat a bit more, but before I could ask her if she wanted to play Auto-Eroticbots versus the Contracepticons (that's where she gets to see part of me transform into a gun), some big forty-something dude with a long (to the small of his back) ponytail shows up and says:

Ponytail Dude: "What, I can't leave you alone for five minutes and you're picking up some guy?"

Rimmy: "Nah, she wasn't strong enough to get me off the ground."

She: "Five minutes is a long time. Besides, he's here with his mother."

Ponytail Dude: "You're here with your mother? This replaces the traditional Sunday dinner?"

Me: "The traditional Sunday dinner was in the food court downstairs. She had A&W, I had won ton."

She: "It's okay he's here with his mother, since I'm here with my father." (as she links arms with the guy who is clearly not her father.

Oddly enough, as the line started moving, my mom cut in line in front of them. What a bully. ;)

The movie was very watchable. It would have been nice if any of the characters had more than two facial expressions though. Jodie Foster has legs, by the way.

Monday arrives. The roof falls in.

That's a nice metaphor that people use when lots of chaotic bad stuff happens, or when the worst possible scenario happens. In my case, the roof actually fell in.

It was raining, as it's been known to occasionally do in Vancouver, and I was doing my rounds. As I walked through the atrium, I heard a little splatter of water start hitting the floor just behind me.

No big deal, it's a glass ceiling (driving that lesson home for all the aspiring employees with dreams of promotion) that often leaks when it rains. It's never very much.

A few steps further on and the sound of the water increased as though someone had opened up a faucet, which was what the stream of water now appeared to resemble, when I investigated it. From about four stories up.

"Hmmmm," I thought to myself. "That's odd."

Then an undescribable sound, best described as a horrid version of "scrrrrrriiiiiiIIIIIIIITTTCH!", and the water volume increased again.

"I think I'm going to get someone," I thought valiantly to myself. And that's what I did.

Because if there's one thing a guy wants to know when he's facing a mini-Niagra cascading down from a decomposing (scrrrrrriiiiiiIIIIIIIITTTCH!) glass roof in heavy rain late at night is that he's not alone.

So I called the client, and I called Evil Property Manager's company. I went in to the nearby sales unit and started putting papers and boxes up on desks, as the water was definitely leaking in.

I mused briefly that I used to do flood restoration, and how I'd been glad that I no longer worked at a job where my feet were perpetually wet. Oh, sweet irony. At least my boots are waterproof.

The glass ceiling continued to slowly give way, and the piece of glass itself was now bowing under the weight of the water that had run over from the rest of the roof into the new depression. The glass guys, when they came, said that the water depth was two and a half feet, the glass was so bent.

Finally, the decision was made to chop the glass down rather than have it fall during the day when people are around. So that's what they did.

I was on the other side of the room, behind an upright, and I still got showered with bits of glass. Luckily, tempered glass breaks like your windshield - very few sharp pieces.

Oddly enough, as soon as the glass was down, the rain stopped. Fucking Murphy anyway!

Wood and tarps across the hole, and that was it for the night. My new relief showed up. Nice way to meet, really. "Hi, I'm your boss, don't let anybody go near the area with the new skylight we spontaneously installed tonight. Suspend normal patrols and watch the area once people start to arrive. Yadda yadda yadda.

Incidentally, the new guard looks and sounds just like Napolean Dynamite. He's a little more on the ball, and his hair is slightly different, but the resemblance is striking.

No, I didn't ask him about his nunchuk skills, bow hunting skills, or computer hacking skills, but he did mention that the conditioned air in the building made his lips hurt real bad.

Then the client asks me to arrange for a guard for the day (0800-1600) to keep the area safe. I phone it in, and Operations is dubious they can get anybody, as they're already overextended. So they ask me to call in at 0630 to see if it's covered, otherwise I get to do it.

I got to do it.

Now, here's an interesting thing: I didn't sit down or take a break for that entire eight hour shift. Nine hour, if you want to be picky, since business hours were until 1700 and there were still lots of people around.

That wasn't the interesting bit, by the way. This is: people went absolutely out of their way to try to get me to take a break, to eat something, to go to the bathroom. They offered to take my place, they offered to go and buy me food, they offered rationales about how "nobody is going to report you if you just sit down". It seemed to absolutely offend them that I paced back and forth in the same area for all that time.

Why do you suppose that is? Company policy (my company, not theirs) says that we don't get breaks unless someone relieves us. That's a guard relieving us, not neighbour Joe. Company policy also says that we're not supposed to be seen eating or smoking while on duty and in uniform.

I don't smoke, but I do eat on occassion. When I do, I go into my office and have a quick nosh between patrols. But out in the public eye, it looks less than professional if the "alert security guard" is dipping fries in catsup and trying not to drip on his shirt.

Trying to explain this to someone who was trying to get me to eat, they disgustedly said "Why, because it would make you look human?" Well yeah, kind of. More because nobody's paying us to eat.

Oh, and word came down that we're not supposed to talk about the glass, and we can't actually say that the glass came down. Of course, everybody who went by wanted to talk about it, and ask what had happened. I gave various responses, but I kept coming back to "You know how you throw pencils at a drop ceiling sometimes? That shit can get out of hand."

Ah well, I survive that particular sixteen hours.

Wednesday I spent recovering from that, and I got a phone call from Cookie Monster. He called to tell me that Yumpin Yiminy had been replaced (fucking DUH, man!) and that Zoroastrian was also being replaced (which I knew, since I'd seen that on the schedule). Then...

Cookie Monster: "I gave myself until Wednesday to call you, and today's the day. I sensed some frustration in your last few status reports, so I wanted to explain to you why it took so long to deal with those two guards."

Frustration? It took four weeks from the time the client asked me to remove Yumpin' Yiminy. I sent constant written reports to CM (at his request) detailing anything involving YY since then. Often these reports would begin something like "It's been x weeks since the client requested YY's removal. Since then, I have received y complaints regarding (various things employees have been annoyed about), and heard z derogatory comments about YY and our company in general.

I think it was the counting of weeks during which CM had done bugger all that was the subtle indication to him that I thought he was a ponce. And I was pretty sure it was one of the derogatory comments about our company that got him moving. He doesn't like bad publicity, although you can see he does very little to prevent it.

He went on saying nothing of substance for a while, then

Cookie Monster: "Anyway, I wanted you to know that I've been on your side during this whole thing. We think you're doing a good job running that site. Talk to you later." Click.

Well, click to you too.

Where in the hell did that comment come from? A little bit of talking to people that get things done yielded the answer.

You see, we have a fairly new director of operations. That would make him CM's boss, and he's only been with us for a few months. He used to be a cop, and he wants things to work, apparently.

My site problems came up during a manager's meeting being chaired by him, and when he noticed the reports from me, followed by the request from the client, and the continuing reports from me, he was less than impressed by CM's response time of zip. That's where CM's change of attitude came from.

I've also since been told that this new director's door is always open to supervisors, and that he wants to know when there are problems. I should also start going to the S/S meetings, and really ought to wear my epaulettes (rank insignia), which I don't have. And apparently the way to take advantage of CM's boss is to nag the hell out of CM when there's a problem.

I probably won't go to that extreme, but it would be nice if things were addressed on occasion...

Friday I trained my replacement for the Zoroastrian. He's a twenty two year old who doesn't pay rent, his mom does his laundry for him, parents pay for school, and he's spent $15000 tricking out the inside of his car (it's got three tv's). He also used to work for us at Vancouver General Hospital, so he knows everything there is about security. He also knows everything about everything.

Him: "Let me tell you something man, this is the way things work."

Rimmy: "Let me tell you sumptin', mon. Dees ees the way tings work here!"

For someone who's so capable, he sure calls me a lot. Reminds me of Palooka in that way.

On the weekend, I finally saw V for Vendetta. And what can I say? More thumbs up than a Chernobyl pianist. Go see it.

"There are people who are going to hate this movie; people who don't like to think, the brain dead, the fools. Referencing the still unseen film, one member of a politically minded film forum was quick to declare: "You can't make a movie about a terrorist now without endorsing bin Laden". It's that mindset, which has become so ingrained in all of us since 9/11, that makes V for Vendetta so unsettling. At times it almost feels like you're watching something forbidden, like you're seeing something you shouldn't be allowed to see. It's shocking that a movie like this, especially in these times, ever actually got made. It's even more unbelievable that it was made by a major Hollywood studio. It's fun to accuse Hollywood of liberal activism, but you don't expect this kind of real filmmaking bravery from corporate America or a company like Warner Bros. It's a purposefully uncomfortable film, one that will affect different people differently depending on what you bring in with you."

--Joshua Tyler, CINEMA BLEND

On Monday, I sat down with the guard reports from the previous week and the keyscan transaction logs and did my usual check. And Napolean was blowing through his patrols suspiciously quickly. So I asked him about it when he came in. Or rather, I told him what he had to do.

Rimmy: "So you have to check all of these areas every time you patrol."

Napolean: "It's already taking me half an hour to do what I'm doing. It'll take way longer if I do all of that."

Rimmy: "Well, this is what the client wants so... it's taking you half an hour to just walk around the building?"

Napolean: "Yeah."

That's odd. If I were to just walk around the building without stopping to do everything I usually do, I could crack it off in less than ten minutes. And that's at a normal walking pace.

Rimmy: "You probably just haven't found the flow for the building yet. I do everything in twentyfive minutes or so."

Napolean: "You do all of that in twentyfive minutes? No way!"

Rimmy: "I do. Give it a shot and see how it goes."

Napolean: "Well, if that's what I've got to do."

I also found out from the client's eyes and ears that the window washer and the glass guys who came to improve the plywood and poly patch on the glass roof had argued with each other to the point that they'd grabbed each others collars and were shaking them. This because the patch leaked on the weekend (so my guards called me, and I called the client and Evil Property Manager's company) to get someone in to deal with it. The window washer was there and wanted to rig up some sort of tarp chute to catch and channel the water, and was starting to set up his rigging. The glass guy didn't like being told what to do with by a pixie with his name tatooed on his arm (Scuzzy), and that was that. Weird.

The next day, it was my mom's birthday. We went out for lunch and I had what very possibly might be the best halibut and chips I've ever had. I'm still not sure what "hand crafted" means when it's applied to fries, but it totally worked. And the fish... I'm glad I'm not a glutton. That was some primo flavour.

I even used the tartar sauce, and I don't even like tartar. Best eighteen dollar cheap food I ever had!

At work, I looked over Napolean's report and transaction record. He patrolled properly, but it took him over an hour to do each.

When he showed up to relieve me, we talked about that and he said that he understood it was what the client wanted, but he was told by scheduling that this site was "ten minutes of patrolling, then he can spend the rest of the hour studying".

Which was good, since he was looking for a stationary quiet site where he could, in fact, study. Since he'd discovered that this was not the case at my site, he put in for a transfer. Which is too bad, because the guy does what he's told and isn't a total dumbass, despite the resemblance to Mr. Dynamite.

On Wednesday, something utterly unexpected happened that was so heinous that I'm not going to relate it here. That, and I can't remember what happened on Wednesday. I certainly did not indulge in my own crapulence, I can tell you that!

On Thursday, I found Crazy Cougar Receptionist to be adoorable. Literally, as I clocked her with a door and none too gently.

To be fair, I honestly didn't know she was there. It was after the time she usually leaves, and I'd noticed the guy who does the last hour in reception in his place, so when I threw the door open and it impacted her (elbow, shoulder, and hip) I was as surprised as she was.

She looked at me like a poleaxed cow, in shock and pain. I said "Sorry", but I didn't add that I was sorry I didn't know she was there, or else I would have got a better run up before I hit the door. Maybe next time. ;)

I also trained the replacement for Napolean. It turns out he's a buddy of the guy that I trained the previous week who then stood me up and made me work all of those extra hours.

Bad way to start.

He's a Filipino ex-cop who's been in the country for six months or so. I mention the Filipino part because while I was training him, the all-Filipino cleaning crew was doing their thing. And every time he met one of the Filipino cleaners, he told them he was from Vietnam. And some of them believed him.

I can't figure out why this is funny, although clearly he was amused. He is henceforth going to be called Filipin-Pho for as long as he stays on site.

He also managed to break one of my two master override keys off in somebody's office door that night while I was training him. Since this was the start of a long weekend, with extra coverage and no employees, no way was I going to leave my one remaining override with Charles Atlas over here.

So I called Operations and asked if somebody could come by, pick up my key, and make a quick copy.

They told me that only Cookie Monster could make that decision for my site. So I called him. He didn't think it could be done (he was at home with his girlfriend), but she told him that Home Depot was open until 2200 that night and they cut keys. And for some reason mine doesn't have the "Do Not Duplicate" stamp on it. So he actually showed up and got it cut, and we swallowed the cost.

Operations couldn't believe it. "Monster came out and took care of it? Cookie Monster? Well shit in a bag and punch it!"

Okay, that last part was mine. But the sentiment was clearly expressed.

Statutory holidays are boring at my site. There's nothing to do, and nobody to talk to. Ah well.

I'd been waiting all week to see if I was accepted for an in-house course being held on Saturday. It was to get my CPI certificate, which is Non-Violent Crisis Intervention. But when I tried to confirm, I just kept bouncing to voicemail.

Having heard nothing from them, I just went and showed up. And it turns out that it was being held the following Saturday. I joined in the class they were holding, and got my OFA 1 instead. Meh.

Which brings us back to me trying to hose the porcelain with my knickers in a twist at Lucky Number Slevin.

I managed to sort that out, and watched the movie. I couldn't decide at first if I liked it, but I now think I'm glad I went. It was entertaining, that scores big points with me.

Incidently, when I got home I discovered that not only were my shorts backwards, they were inside out as well. To unbutton the fly, the quickest route would have been to swallow my arm and let my fingers do the walking out my colon.

On the plus side, this means they're technically okay to wear again, forwards and rightside out.

Damn that slide. Oh well.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!