May 24, 2002
I have a new coping strategy for job stress: I changed all my computer passwords to obscenities. It helps. The job could very well be worse. The traffic hasn't been terrible today. I hate answering phones, though, and I am constantly being asked questions by easily-angered, senile old people that I cannot answer. I do what I can:
1. Transfer to voicemail;
2. Deny all knowledge.
The new union contracts were delivered today. Inexplicably, I have to belong to a union to have this job. I feel guilty being annoyed about the dues, admiring the early American labor movement as I do. So, I just shake my head and go along with it.
The Ombudsman has a surprise waiting for him when he comes back. I FOUND YOUR COOKIES, SUCKER!
Synchronicity strikes. This morning, for no apparent reason, the CTA ran three trains right after each other. I saw the first two from the street and just barely arrived for the third. Naturally, it was nearly empty. A nervous guy boarded with me and headed to the other end of the car. There was only one passenger already present, a guy about my age, in standard unconventional idea-havin' wear (olive army jacket, patches, scruffy pants). He looked furtive. I noticed that the window next to me had large, swooping symbols carved into it. The nature of the glass was such that remnants hung down like string. The symbols didn't seem to follow any pattern, just standard, ugly tags. I started reading my book. I heard a scratching sound coming from the guy's direction, but couldn't see any source. I went back to my book. A short while later, I noticed him stand up and head to the doors, and the same sound ensued. He was scratching on the door windows, too. He gave a quick look around to see if anyone was watching him, and I rolled my eyes. He finished his work, and then he spoke:
- Does graffiti hurt you?
I was reading, and it took a moment to register that he was talking to me. I looked up, and the nervous guy was watching us, terrified.
- What?
- I said, does graffiti hurt you?
- Nope. Never seen someone do it in person.
- You shook your head.
- Yeah, because I think it's kind of dumb.
- It's better than doing drugs. It's better than being in a gang.
- Sure, if you're working in some paradigm where you have to choose one of the three.
The train stopped and the doors opened. He spoke as he exited.
- It's an escape route.
I noticed as he walked away that his front bottom teeth were badly aligned.
After he was gone, I noticed that almost the entire train car had been carved up. There was no design or idea behind it. I like watching for creative graffiti, especially in hard-to-reach places. But this just made the train car look like shit. I came up with a good line about the distinction between art and dogs peeing on trees, but he was gone, and the guy had a sharp object, anyway.
1. Transfer to voicemail;
2. Deny all knowledge.
The new union contracts were delivered today. Inexplicably, I have to belong to a union to have this job. I feel guilty being annoyed about the dues, admiring the early American labor movement as I do. So, I just shake my head and go along with it.
The Ombudsman has a surprise waiting for him when he comes back. I FOUND YOUR COOKIES, SUCKER!
Synchronicity strikes. This morning, for no apparent reason, the CTA ran three trains right after each other. I saw the first two from the street and just barely arrived for the third. Naturally, it was nearly empty. A nervous guy boarded with me and headed to the other end of the car. There was only one passenger already present, a guy about my age, in standard unconventional idea-havin' wear (olive army jacket, patches, scruffy pants). He looked furtive. I noticed that the window next to me had large, swooping symbols carved into it. The nature of the glass was such that remnants hung down like string. The symbols didn't seem to follow any pattern, just standard, ugly tags. I started reading my book. I heard a scratching sound coming from the guy's direction, but couldn't see any source. I went back to my book. A short while later, I noticed him stand up and head to the doors, and the same sound ensued. He was scratching on the door windows, too. He gave a quick look around to see if anyone was watching him, and I rolled my eyes. He finished his work, and then he spoke:
- Does graffiti hurt you?
I was reading, and it took a moment to register that he was talking to me. I looked up, and the nervous guy was watching us, terrified.
- What?
- I said, does graffiti hurt you?
- Nope. Never seen someone do it in person.
- You shook your head.
- Yeah, because I think it's kind of dumb.
- It's better than doing drugs. It's better than being in a gang.
- Sure, if you're working in some paradigm where you have to choose one of the three.
The train stopped and the doors opened. He spoke as he exited.
- It's an escape route.
I noticed as he walked away that his front bottom teeth were badly aligned.
After he was gone, I noticed that almost the entire train car had been carved up. There was no design or idea behind it. I like watching for creative graffiti, especially in hard-to-reach places. But this just made the train car look like shit. I came up with a good line about the distinction between art and dogs peeing on trees, but he was gone, and the guy had a sharp object, anyway.