More! Theres always more. My job never endeth, and neither does the range and fluidity of the position. Included some of the most pointless, inane and just silly conversations.
"How deep is the lake?"
(Me) Well, its low at the moment because the pump isnt working, but its about 5 foot at its deepest.
"It looks deeper than that."
(me) Yeah, well, theres muck on the bottom, so, its acrually deeper than it looks.
"Yeah, it looks deeper"
(Me) Wait til it fills up. Deeper still.
"Yeah, that'd be deep."
Shoot me now.
"I cant find a bin."
(me) Oh, there arnt any. We like people to take their rubbish with them, the house would never have had bins around anyway, so its original fabric."
"Well, its really inconveniant. Can you take this?"
(me)........ the rubbish? I.....just give it to the gate house when you leave, sorry, i have nowhere to put it.
"*SIGH!* Fine"
Im not a bin! Im not hiding one in my pockets either you horrible harridan, christ.
Maybe these are amusing and maybe they arnt, but it saves on therapy so....cheers! And sorry if i offend anybody.
Tuesday, 28 April 2009
Friday, 3 April 2009
Dead Work
Ok, so Luke inspired me to finish chpt 1 and put it up, hopefully with the view that it will push me to finish more. Comments and critism most welcome.
Its 2014, the world financial crisis has gone beyond crisis and the Depression into Super-crisis. Countries have retreated behind their borders to look after their own and food stamps and rationing is imminent. McDonalds still holds out as a provider of low cost food, but most multi-national corporations have faded in to giant empty office blocks, testament to greed and “good times” that may or may not return. Zac is a young man who wanted to be an accountant like his accountant parents, but in a world with no money, what’s a budding accountant to do?
Chpt1.
It was possibly the plainest office you could imagine, with every skerrick of personality sucked out of it like it had been designed by Ikea 20 years ago. No, 30 years ago. Zac sighed to himself quietly as his potential new boss John looked over his amazingly short resume again. There was only so much you could pad out a resume when you're 18 and Zac hadn’t felt like he could add anything more. Being the employee of the month at McDonalds looked like a pitiful best achievement and he knew it.
“Best employee at Maccas eh?”
Groan. Zac nodded, unable to put into words the “i’m 18 and iv studied full time up until now and id rather be at university, but im a solid realible guy!” he wanted to say. Plus, Uni was for people with money.
“This doesn’t seem like a people job, but if and when you meet the deceased’s family that would come in handy. Nothing like the harsh reality of McDonalds clientele to ready you for emotional storms.”
Zac blinked. McDonalds. A good thing. Right.
There were a whole list of words he’d have to get used to if he got the job, like it wasn’t a body or a corpse, it was the deceased. People were bereaved, you mourned, and it wasn’t even a funeral in most cases, it was a celebration of somebody’s life. None of this occurred to Zac when his parents explained to him that “food on the table” was the aim now that the planet had finally gone bust and a full third of people in America had lost their jobs by 2012. By 2014 people realised that the financial system of the world was beyond repair and the World Bank, out of money and ideas, disbanded.
Both his parents had lost their jobs, his mum a few years ago and his dad just a few weeks ago. Food on the table was becoming more of an imperative.
“You put here under hobbies reading and hiking. Anything else?”
“Not...really.” Zac replied.
“Books... what sort of books?” John was squinting at him, trying to deduce something from his face.
“Uh, anything really. Comics, novels, autobiographies. Anything the local library still has worth reading.”
“Sci-fi? Horror? Fantasy...?” John left those hanging in the air like something nasty or wrong.
Sensing John’s feelings towards the area Zac couldn’t help moderating his answer. He needed the job’ even if he didn’t particularly want it.
“Well, anything really...im not partial to it. Infact, i can’t remember the last time i read something like that.” Lord of the Rings, waiting for the bus to the interview. 15 minutes ago.
“Good....good.” John visibly relaxed, as if one of his bigger fears had just be dispelled. “Just checking, no reason.”
Great, the guy had weird tendancies about books . What other personality glitches were waiting to be unveiled .. . hell, the guy dug graves for a living. Would he end up like that after a few years? Maybe weeks...
Putting his hands together on the table, John sat forward, his face becoming even more sober. This was it.
“What....what made you choose this line of work?” He stared intently into Zac's eyes with that suspicious-of-everything-young look that only people over the age of 60 can manage
“Um...well. There isn’t anything else is there?” It was out before he’d even thought it through. Why did people clean toilets for Christ sake? They needed cleaning and somebody paid that person to do it. Nuff said. Pay e-check in your e-mail. Food on the table. Then the horrible honesty of the statement hit home and Zac’s pale face got paler. “And, and im interested in...”
Zac faded out. He knew hed blown it, what a stupid thing to say. And now he just wanted to get out of there.
“Hah! Good, you’ll do. You start Monday, lots to teach, but not much to it. 3 days and 2 nights a week.”
Zac’s head spun. “I...”
John: ”Hired. As long as your not one of those nut jobs, Goths, Emo –revivalists or death-junkies your hired.”
Zac: “ Um, great! I mean, im not..any of those things. Great! Thanks.”
Zac was now an apprentice grave digger. Food on the table...
Its 2014, the world financial crisis has gone beyond crisis and the Depression into Super-crisis. Countries have retreated behind their borders to look after their own and food stamps and rationing is imminent. McDonalds still holds out as a provider of low cost food, but most multi-national corporations have faded in to giant empty office blocks, testament to greed and “good times” that may or may not return. Zac is a young man who wanted to be an accountant like his accountant parents, but in a world with no money, what’s a budding accountant to do?
Chpt1.
It was possibly the plainest office you could imagine, with every skerrick of personality sucked out of it like it had been designed by Ikea 20 years ago. No, 30 years ago. Zac sighed to himself quietly as his potential new boss John looked over his amazingly short resume again. There was only so much you could pad out a resume when you're 18 and Zac hadn’t felt like he could add anything more. Being the employee of the month at McDonalds looked like a pitiful best achievement and he knew it.
“Best employee at Maccas eh?”
Groan. Zac nodded, unable to put into words the “i’m 18 and iv studied full time up until now and id rather be at university, but im a solid realible guy!” he wanted to say. Plus, Uni was for people with money.
“This doesn’t seem like a people job, but if and when you meet the deceased’s family that would come in handy. Nothing like the harsh reality of McDonalds clientele to ready you for emotional storms.”
Zac blinked. McDonalds. A good thing. Right.
There were a whole list of words he’d have to get used to if he got the job, like it wasn’t a body or a corpse, it was the deceased. People were bereaved, you mourned, and it wasn’t even a funeral in most cases, it was a celebration of somebody’s life. None of this occurred to Zac when his parents explained to him that “food on the table” was the aim now that the planet had finally gone bust and a full third of people in America had lost their jobs by 2012. By 2014 people realised that the financial system of the world was beyond repair and the World Bank, out of money and ideas, disbanded.
Both his parents had lost their jobs, his mum a few years ago and his dad just a few weeks ago. Food on the table was becoming more of an imperative.
“You put here under hobbies reading and hiking. Anything else?”
“Not...really.” Zac replied.
“Books... what sort of books?” John was squinting at him, trying to deduce something from his face.
“Uh, anything really. Comics, novels, autobiographies. Anything the local library still has worth reading.”
“Sci-fi? Horror? Fantasy...?” John left those hanging in the air like something nasty or wrong.
Sensing John’s feelings towards the area Zac couldn’t help moderating his answer. He needed the job’ even if he didn’t particularly want it.
“Well, anything really...im not partial to it. Infact, i can’t remember the last time i read something like that.” Lord of the Rings, waiting for the bus to the interview. 15 minutes ago.
“Good....good.” John visibly relaxed, as if one of his bigger fears had just be dispelled. “Just checking, no reason.”
Great, the guy had weird tendancies about books . What other personality glitches were waiting to be unveiled .. . hell, the guy dug graves for a living. Would he end up like that after a few years? Maybe weeks...
Putting his hands together on the table, John sat forward, his face becoming even more sober. This was it.
“What....what made you choose this line of work?” He stared intently into Zac's eyes with that suspicious-of-everything-young look that only people over the age of 60 can manage
“Um...well. There isn’t anything else is there?” It was out before he’d even thought it through. Why did people clean toilets for Christ sake? They needed cleaning and somebody paid that person to do it. Nuff said. Pay e-check in your e-mail. Food on the table. Then the horrible honesty of the statement hit home and Zac’s pale face got paler. “And, and im interested in...”
Zac faded out. He knew hed blown it, what a stupid thing to say. And now he just wanted to get out of there.
“Hah! Good, you’ll do. You start Monday, lots to teach, but not much to it. 3 days and 2 nights a week.”
Zac’s head spun. “I...”
John: ”Hired. As long as your not one of those nut jobs, Goths, Emo –revivalists or death-junkies your hired.”
Zac: “ Um, great! I mean, im not..any of those things. Great! Thanks.”
Zac was now an apprentice grave digger. Food on the table...
Thursday, 2 April 2009
Not in my job title...
I think, not long ago, when writing about my job and what i do i explained that there were things expected of me that were necesarily in my job title. And not just that, but things that were as foreign to me as frostbite to a Sri Lankan. This week has been a lesson and a trial in patience and pushing general knowledge and common sence to its boundaries.
The following are phrases and very short snatches of conversations iv had this week:
"How are you with rats Tim? The cat next door just mauled one and im not sure how much is left, but could you....do something with it?" -This older matronly lady said this with a look on her pinched face like "step on it, bin it, do what you like with it as long as its gone". Perhaps luckily, there was only a head left in the middle of the basement. Which leads to my next pearler...
"Tim, do you know how to cut carpet??" - As a matter of fact, i do. I spent a a summer laying carpet when i was 16 and knew all she would need wa s a stanley knife...the look on her face said "jees, a knife... and it will be heavy.." This lady, part of our collections team, put on a bright smile that told me i was coming with her, saddle up!
"Is that concrete slab all the way through or just a thin topping?" - It was made in the 1880's! I dont know! Nobodies knows! Thats why were hired you, the engineer! Followed closely by:
"Can you dig a hole?" - ........ Just because i dont have a crystal ball to see the past, doesnt mean im the mental equivilent of a paramecium.
"How much can they ute pull?
(my reply) Probably about 1 and a half tonne.
"How much is that?"
"...1500 kilos."
"So itl do it?"
"Do what?"
"Tow a horse float."
"...sure. Why not."
How heavy is the damn horse? How heavy is the float?? Is a shetland? A clydesdale? A foal? Iv ridden a horse twice in my life, how do i know?
"Why dont we let cars come up the drive way here?"
"Well, because of the pedestrians, mainly children and old people, and the wheelchairs for one, but also because they compaction WILL kill all the trees running the length of the drive (100 metres) and those are 100 year old oaks. That would be a shame."
"Surely not."
"Yeah, the compaction will kill them. 5 years, they'lll die. 10 max."
"Surely not.
".........."
- This was the worst. This was my field, my area, part of the reason i work there! Why even ask?! If you dont want a real answer just make it up in your head. Also, what about the people??
(this is me) "Hi, was was wondering how much new barings cost for my car?"
(service station) " What sort of car is it?"
"A late 80's bmw."
"Right...i dunno."
"Ok, could you give me a ballpark?"
"Well, not really..."
"How much is the part worth?"
"I couldnt say really... probably around a hundred or so."
Ok, and how long would it take you?"
"Maybe an hour..?"
"So, it would be maybe 150-170?"
"Yeah, about that."
As the bewildered Irishman who was band from swearing once said -Jesus Mary and Joseph!!
Part + labour = the end fracken price!!
Most of these incidents turned out to be light hearted and funny, but some induced a tight-smiled effect of holding ones composer til the idiot passed and eye-rolling and fist-clenchingly walking away.
The following are phrases and very short snatches of conversations iv had this week:
"How are you with rats Tim? The cat next door just mauled one and im not sure how much is left, but could you....do something with it?" -This older matronly lady said this with a look on her pinched face like "step on it, bin it, do what you like with it as long as its gone". Perhaps luckily, there was only a head left in the middle of the basement. Which leads to my next pearler...
"Tim, do you know how to cut carpet??" - As a matter of fact, i do. I spent a a summer laying carpet when i was 16 and knew all she would need wa s a stanley knife...the look on her face said "jees, a knife... and it will be heavy.." This lady, part of our collections team, put on a bright smile that told me i was coming with her, saddle up!
"Is that concrete slab all the way through or just a thin topping?" - It was made in the 1880's! I dont know! Nobodies knows! Thats why were hired you, the engineer! Followed closely by:
"Can you dig a hole?" - ........ Just because i dont have a crystal ball to see the past, doesnt mean im the mental equivilent of a paramecium.
"How much can they ute pull?
(my reply) Probably about 1 and a half tonne.
"How much is that?"
"...1500 kilos."
"So itl do it?"
"Do what?"
"Tow a horse float."
"...sure. Why not."
How heavy is the damn horse? How heavy is the float?? Is a shetland? A clydesdale? A foal? Iv ridden a horse twice in my life, how do i know?
"Why dont we let cars come up the drive way here?"
"Well, because of the pedestrians, mainly children and old people, and the wheelchairs for one, but also because they compaction WILL kill all the trees running the length of the drive (100 metres) and those are 100 year old oaks. That would be a shame."
"Surely not."
"Yeah, the compaction will kill them. 5 years, they'lll die. 10 max."
"Surely not.
".........."
- This was the worst. This was my field, my area, part of the reason i work there! Why even ask?! If you dont want a real answer just make it up in your head. Also, what about the people??
(this is me) "Hi, was was wondering how much new barings cost for my car?"
(service station) " What sort of car is it?"
"A late 80's bmw."
"Right...i dunno."
"Ok, could you give me a ballpark?"
"Well, not really..."
"How much is the part worth?"
"I couldnt say really... probably around a hundred or so."
Ok, and how long would it take you?"
"Maybe an hour..?"
"So, it would be maybe 150-170?"
"Yeah, about that."
As the bewildered Irishman who was band from swearing once said -Jesus Mary and Joseph!!
Part + labour = the end fracken price!!
Most of these incidents turned out to be light hearted and funny, but some induced a tight-smiled effect of holding ones composer til the idiot passed and eye-rolling and fist-clenchingly walking away.
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