The Dumbing Down of America, Part 37

Blows me away on a daily basis, the things that are done for the people who ... society? ... considers to be not worth caring about.

I went to the store on the way home from work tonight and as I was waiting in line to pay for my gallon of milk, I looked over at the lane next to me. I was directly behind the check out girl, and I saw as she punched in that the customer paid for a $8.16 purchase with a $10.00 bill, the screen on her register showed a picture of the cash tray, with a picture of each denomination and coin she needed to pull, with a quantity above it. (1) $1, (3) $.25, (1) $.05, (4) $.01.

What truly made me sad was to see her looking up again and again to make sure she got it right.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes...

So I finally feel like it's about time that I explain my -lengthy- absence.

I spent about 3 weeks at the end of June where I was beginning to wonder whether I was going to be fired, for God knows what, and then one day I get a call from my boss. Immediately, I was worried, as I'd not heard hide nor hair from this man in weeks, aside from the various quick memos that go out daily.

"Can you talk?"

"Sure."

"Are you in private?"

"Give me 3 minutes."

So I went to the most private place I know about in the entire building (a completely unfinished floor - you can see someone coming from miles away) and I let him know, "Okay, I'm here. What's up?"

"The General Manager has requested that you be replaced. Truth be told, no one down at home office is really happy about this, but we've got to keep her happy. So, we've got a new account for you and you'll start there in a week, and we've got Bill coming in from your old account to take over. His account will be taken by Phil, and Phil used to be the account supervisor for your new account. Is that clear?"

"Well," I say, a bit befuddled and ... quite a bit angry, "I thought Bill said he'd never leave the account he's at... Matter of fact, I thought I'd heard that the client had threatened to drop our company if he left."

"We dealt with it," He says with authority, but I can hear a bit of hesitancy floating in there.

"So what's the deal?" I say. "Why does she want me out? I was under the impression that everything was kosher?"

"She decided that she wanted to have someone in the supervisory position who had more experience. I'm sorry you didn't know that this was coming, and I'm sorry I didn't let you know earlier, but I didn't want to say anything before I had good news to give you."

"Fine, I suppose."

So one week later, I am taking over a new account. I've got Ryan, who's going through a divorce, Val, who's a single mother, and Walter, who's a member of a cult - and proud of it. The first two are pains in my ass because they both don't want to work anything but the schedule they've got, and Walter doesn't want to work weekends because he has "religious obligations"... I'm the supervisor, damnit, I say when you work.

Matter of fact, Walter writes me a ... I hate to say it, but 'note' gives this little chit a little too much credit. Through a weird course of events, I end up with both the original handwritten version as well as the 'final' typed version. I hesitate to even call that final, as the thing starts out 'Deer Dan jones' - no, there was no comma... and the last name was not capitalized.

It all went downhill from there.

I'm talking, misspellings, random punctuation, random capitAlization, demands (no, not requests) ... I will never publish anything whether to my wife, my parents, my boss, or a prospective employer until I've had a chance to look it over, proofread it, and spell check it.

Blame my mother.

Ryan tells me that the schedule won't work because he has to go pick up his kids from the sitter an hour into his shift. Fine, I say, you'll just come in two hours later and I'll work those two hours instead. Yippee.

Three weeks later, I've got the account running just about as smoothly as I can, and I get another call from my boss.

"You've got to go interview for another account. It's up between you and another supervisor, but both your buildings have been sold and the new owners want to pay less for the security. And you get paid too much."

What? I get paid too much?!

"Okay. I'll go Friday."

I get a call Monday to inform me that I'm the new supervisor at building number 3. and 4. and 5. It's a complex of buildings - which I'd had no idea until day one, and encompassed 2 accounts. Well, crap. More work, same pay.

So I guess, all in all, it worked out for the best. I'm in a pretty good building, with a client who respects me enough to let me do my work and leave me to my devices. My officers now are by and large pretty respectable, and I'm getting some overtime.

Oh, wait, that's not 100% a good thing...

Is It Still Paranoia When They Really Are After You?

Further proof...

I get a call from the General Manager on my day off. "I need you to come in at 10:00 tomorrow."

"Um, okay, but why?"

"I need you to be there when I confront Arthur."

"Okay, what's going on?"

"Well, I'd rather talk about it tomorrow. You might tell him what I say."

Deep breath. It's okay. "Give me an idea."

"No," she says in a stage whisper, "we'll talk tomorrow morning."

So I get things straightened out with my wife, and promptly at 9:50 I walk in to the office to talk to her. "What's up?"

"Arthur's been talking about me behind my back."

"How so?"

"Well, he was overheard the other day talking with the secretary about how I'm such a hard person to work for and he just can't stand me."

"That doesn't sound like him, but we'll talk to him to be sure."

So, I'm sent out to get him and bring him to the conference room.

"Arthur, it's come to my attention that you don't like me and don't like working with me. Don't deny it, I have it on good authority that you have been gossiping."

Arthur looks at me, bewildered, and says, "What are you talking about?!"

I know this guy. If it's possible, he's more professional at work than even I am. I give him the "Duh, wha'?" look and promise a discussion later.

"You're gossiping behind my back," she insists again. "I know you are."

"Where are you getting this? I'd never do this and, frankly, I'm insulted that you'd even think it."

"It came from Helen." She's the head cleaner. Oh, did I mention that she's also a HUGE gossip?

Arthur looks at me. I can see his mental Rolodex flipping through. "You know, I saw her talking to your secretary yesterday afternoon. I heard bits of the conversation, but I steered clear when I heard it. I didn't want any part."

"She says you started the discussion and she just overheard it!"

"Well, that's patently untrue. I'd never join in gossip at work, especially with people I have to work with."

Arthur's allowed to leave, and I follow, talking about what else is going on, leaving the embarrassment of the last hour behind us.

The next day, I come in for my shift, and She's there again. Waiting for me.

"Arthur lied to us."

"Really? How?"

"Helen came to my office after she came in and said that he'd come to her and asked her not to drag his name through her issues."

"I don't see how he's lying, really..."

"He's trying to cover! It's all a cover! He hates me!"

Maybe they should come. Just wearing clean white coats, and carrying one with really long sleeves. Just for you!

No Respect

(With all apologies to Mr. Dangerfield.)

I've been supervisor at my current job now for a little over 3 months. In that time, I've learned of a new level of egotism that I'd never even dreamed existed.

It's a beautiful spring morning, and I'm sitting at the guard desk, greeting visitors, BSing with tenants and regulars, when I look up from some paperwork and see none other than the chief of police standing at my desk.

"Good morning, sir, how can I help you?" I say.

"Well," he says with a slightly befuddled look on his face, "I was sent here by the guard at the building across the way - they said they don't have a bathroom, but you do."

Truth be told, we don't have a public bathroom. No office buildings in the downtown area - of a certain calibre - do. But he's the chief of police. "Sir," I explain, we don't have a public bathroom, but I respect law enforcement and I'll let you use our bathroom. Come this way, please?"

I let him in the bathroom, and as I am walking away, the general manager of the management company stops me and says, "What was that?"

"That was Chief -------," I respond with a shake of my head. "Can you believe they wouldn't let him use their restroom across the way?"

"Yes," she says. "And I don't want to see you ever let anyone use our restroom again! We don't have a public restroom, and I will not have you letting just anyone use it!"

I look at her, expecting to see a twinkle of "just kidding" in her eye, but, damn, she's serious. "I'm sorry," I say, "I respect law enforcement."

"I don't care if the president of the country asked for the bathroom, you don't let anyone use it!" she says, with the most imperious look in her eye, and then she stalks off down the hall to her office.

Small people.