Things I learned at Work Today
Capital of Nasty, an Electronic Magazine - ISSN 1482-0471
Monday, July 28, 2003 at 01:00 (627/135)
As if the fact that it was Monday morning with a hang-over wasn't annoying enough.
- You can be a property manager, have absolutely no clue as to what's going on in the property you manage and still be able to keep your job.
- Crack cocaine will make your teeth look black and rotten.
- An Audi can accelerate to about 80km per hour in a stretch less than fifty metres long, lose control and nail dead centre a cement pillar in the underground garage lot.
- Cement is hard.
- Oil from a cracked Audi engine is capable of flying at a distance of about six metres, missing the pillar the car hit, but somehow completely cover a car parked on the opposite side. There is an awful lot of oil in a large Audi engine.
- Said Audi, with engine cracked, coolant spreading everywhere, braking fluid dripping vigorously, hood looking like a crashed pop can and headlights dangling, can shift into reverse and reach its designated parking spot before spilling vital fluids all over the spot.
- Despite obvious evidence, between damage to car, the reinforced cement pillar missing a piece and the twelve metre long skid-marks on the garage floor of someone trying desperately to brake, driver will deny he was going fast.
- You are not required to have a brain in order to be a construction worker. Case in point, the sudden discovery that the BobCat, aptly labelled "DIESEL FUEL ONLY" can be filled with gasoline, burn out the engine leaving the driver in a state of complete shock as to why that would happen.
- Not being able to listen to very basic instruction is normal.
- The sign outside the booth that gently states "STOP. Please check in with security guard before proceeding further," actually means "ACCELERATE and try to hit the guy with the black pants and white shirt coming out to greet you." You get extra points if I squeal like a little girl as I jump back in the booth, head first, praying to a deity of choice.
- There is a greater chance of survival in stopping a bullet with your teeth, than helping a truck back out of the entrance, asking traffic on Lansdowne Avenue to stop and traffic actually stopping without anyone missing you by less than an inch.
- Considering how expensive the apartments are here (averaging at about $1500 per unit) and the number of strippers that live in building B, I should've been born a woman and taken up a career in stripping.
- The high from crack cocaine will make you want to dance in the middle of Lansdowne Avenue for no apparent reason.
- No matter how ugly, messed up and shrivelled the prostitutes look on this street, Volvos, Audis, BMWs, Mercedes, driven by young, business-suit wearing men, will stop, pick up a prostitute, discuss the price and most of the times, drive off with one of the 'creatures.'
- A prostitute is capable of putting her foot through a side window in protest, if the customer refuses to pay.
- Sex with prostitutes is like a show with Mr. Dressup, as each prostitute wears a particular costume. There is the 'farmer girl' complete with a bit of grass sticking out of her mouth. There is the lonesome prom girl, wearing a black dress (and it's a hot summer day) with that "He's left me!" look on her face. There is the hitch-hiking, pony-tailed globetrotter, complete with knapsack. Some even change depending on the time of the day, including the little-girl-going-to-school-in-the-morning mode, which comes equipped with school bag, pig tails and sometimes, sucking down (I don't need to tell you how) on an icicle.
- If the government decides to ship you back to Romania and you are forced to leave your car here, your car will still be here waiting some six weeks later. Meanwhile the property manager will tow the car of a tenant that actually lives here for no apparent reason.
- Pointing out to a truck driver that their crane is spilling hydraulic fluid all over the place will get you told "it has been doing this for over a year." Meanwhile the entrance is now as slippery as an ice-rink.
- If you've got to steal to pay for your crack cocaine, I catch you and you decide to make a run for it, don't do the following:
- Steal in front of me, for starters. It makes it impossible for me to pretend I didn't see you.
- Run towards a dead end where the only way out is through me or off a forty foot drop--into speeding traffic.
- Claim you're going to jump to kill yourself and panic when I say "okay."
- Hide in poison ivy after I took your shirt off in my first attempt at grabbing you and, somehow, figure I will not see you.
- I may run with the same grace of a wounded water buffalo stuck in a marsh, but if you wear your pants half-way up just because you're stylin', don't be surprised if I actually catch up to you and throw you on the ground.
- Claim such non-sense that I'm doing this because you're a kid from the 'hood and I'm white. This ain't about skin colour. Particularly if you're more white than me.
- Not only lying to the cops, but changing the lie, too. Stick to the same lie or better yet: keep your mouth shut. You might gain some much needed credibility.
- The cops are not going to believe your story about how I decided to chase you down, make you taste dirt, bend your arms behind your back, hold them with my knee and wait for the constables for no apparent reason. Believe me, they know I have better things to do than chase and touch you.
- The more money you have, the less of a sense of humour you have.
- That the one girl that lives here which somehow managed to spark the rare flame of interest in me, turned out to be a lesbian. I don't mind that she is A lesbian. I mind that SHE is a lesbian. God has a wicked sense of humour.
Leo N. took four on the waterline and lists starboard.
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