The Little Shop of Horrors

Digression IV.5

2005-10-05T20:19:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the long delay with this story!! Anyhow, let's see. So, one fine Friday night I went out with a couple of my boys to get some dinner. After eating a ridiculously overpriced cheeseburger, I hopped on the train to head home. I walked onto the R train and sat across fromt he girl you see in the previous post's picture. She had a little cuteness, big breasts, but a sloppy demeanor. Within two minutes she starts to perform. She jumped onto one of the bars and started doing pullups and other strange exercises. After sitting back down she smiled at every male within range of her, including me. She then proceeded to pull down her shirt a little, exposing her shoulders and some of her cleavage. Within minutes she went straight buckwild after smiling at me and other men again! She started pinching her nipples (through her shirt), making them hard while smiling. She was definitely looking for attention, and my better judgement told me not to give it to her. However, within minutes another young man decided to attend to her and basically told her that she was going to get off the train with him to go party!! What do you think happened to this girl???

Digression IV

2005-09-21T10:10:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Kim Plaintive for the Foto Fun inspiration! Anyhow, look at this picture and tell me what's wrong with it? Some context - I took this picture on a New York City subway a couple of weeks ago at 11:oo pm. I'll disclose the entire story tomorrow.

Bathroom Smell II

2005-09-21T10:01:00.000-07:00

I just got back from lunch and decided to take a short journey from the little shop to the mens' bathroom. I opened up the door, stepped inside and inhaled normally. I started to choke immediately as I could not fully breath with the foul smell that had infiltrated so sacred a room. Can someone answer this question for me? What bodily function can a person possibly perform that would create a stink the smells like a cross of shit and vomit? I doubt someone took a shit and then vomited in the same trip, so what could it possibly be? Anyone else have similar experiences with so foul a smell?

The Director Is A Perv

2005-09-15T12:58:00.000-07:00

Today I sat down to a heartly lunch with Babs, the Director, and a friend of mine from high school named Evan. Evan was telling us of his adventures running and his plans to run in the next New York Marathon. After some conversing, we start discussing some of the good running schools aound the country when the Director mentions that she saw NYU's cross country team running up Fifth Avenue, with nothing on but shorts: "They looked very good - I stopped and stared for a little while... yup, they definitely looked really good." Do 55+ year old women look at college dudes like that? I've heard of dirty old men, but dirty old women too??? Craziness...

Can I Get Some Attention

2005-09-09T13:01:00.000-07:00

Babs is an attention whore. It's sad to say, but true. It's also sad to say, but not everyone likes her, though she seems to believe otherwise. Which is why, for some odd reason, she always seems to find something negative to say about anyone that passes her by without talking to her or gives her sideways looks. Needless to say, there was an "incident" today which brings me to this conclusion. Lets proceed.

There's a great older lady that works in another office. She's Argentinian and sooo grand-motherly it's not even funny. Whenever I see her I want to go up to her give her a big hug and tell her she's the greatest thing since cheesecake. Anyhow, me and he have a really nice relationship, especially since we are both big fans of the Yankees. So, she walks into the little shop today, and quickly looks past Babs. "Hey Sue, the Director...." Sue jumps in a chair next to me as she brushed past Babs and says, "So did you see the game last night???!!" Even though Babs almost whispered her hello, she still looked pretty miffed that she was ignored. Anyhow, we had a grand conversation about the Yankees and about some of our kids before finally taking off.

As soon as she was gone, Babs yells "So, what she didn't even see me?!!?!?" "I can't believe she didn't even say nothing to me!!!" Get over it Babs, not everyone likes you...

White People and Ghosts, Black People and Water and Digression Part III

2005-09-01T08:16:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid I used to watch a ton of horror movies. I couldn't get enough of them - ghosts, monsters, vampires, the evil un-dead - you name it, I loved it. I especially loved the supernatural - tales that involved demons ghosts and good old fashion battles with the devil. These movies, while entertaining always left me with a puzzling question. Why did White people always stay in the house after they figured out that there was a damn ghost?? You knew they hated them, so why stay around and get possessed, get sucked into a TV, or get the shit scared out of you on a daily basis? You know you're not going to beat a ghost and reclaim your home so why try? I never could figure it out, especially knowing that most sensical Black people would break out and sell the house when they get within first earshot of the all too famous ghost line of "get out." Silly TV white people.

Anyhow, this gets me to my point. It's been really sad and crazy looking at all the destruction that hurricane Katrina left behind in the south. It's just crazy. But while perusing through the news and looking at the papers, there is one astounding trend I've noticed. Everyone is Black!! Why are all the people who decided to stay back and challenge a HURRICANE Black??? We all know that Black people generally don't like water, so why stay back to have to escape an ocean of water coming to engulf your city!! And all these fools were warned! When the mayor tells you "Get out of the city, there is a lot of water coming in the form of a deadly hurricane" you leave!! At least I would... Anyhow, so I will never again question why White people stay in haunted houses, cause we Black people are like them - We like to stay to see a hurricane...

Did you also catch the news coverage of looting? Does it seem like all the looters are black? Check this...

The Bathroom

2005-09-01T08:06:00.000-07:00

Hi folks. I walked into the Little Shop a few minutes late today, and after having had been on a train for about 45 minutes I had to pee. I walked from my office into our reception area, passing by the women's bathroom. The bathroom was under some sort of repair, so it was wide open for all to see the wonders it contained. It smelled like sweet perfume, there were flowers on the counter-top, and there were about three stalls for womens' use. Additionally, it was well lit, there is a huge mirror, and a very nice sink. All of these revelations were quite a surprise to me since the majority of people within our larger walls are indeed male. Why did the few women have such nice amenities?

I walked through the reception area to the other side of the front desk, and retreated to the men's bathroom. I opened the door to come face to face with a foul, just been shat in odor, and a very faint trace of very poor air freshener. There is only one toilet, one small sink, and a mirror that is always dirty. As I held my breath and nose from the foul stench, I did my business while noticing the nice brown marks that the previous user had left behind just for me. I left quickly, returned to my desk, and pondered what I just witnessed. A women's bathroom that is pristine and can accomodate 4 to 5 women who could anything imaginable that one would want to do in a bathroom (brush one's teeth, check make-up etc.), and a men's bathroom that is often locked because it can only accompany one occupant, with a stained toilet, and no space to procrastinate. When did women gain the upper hand in the potty war?

Black Hair

2005-08-25T13:29:00.000-07:00

Damn, I've been writing alot today. Anywhow, this Chinese lady who works in another office that mine came to visit for a second with a question for me. Let's call her Chun-Li. So Chun-Li looks at a picture of my goddaughter that I have up on my wall and she tells me that she is very cute. I say thank you very much, I know this! She then asks, if Black people are generally born very fair-skinned. I responded that I didn't know if it was a general rule, but that my goddaughter was indeed very pale when she was born two years ago. After answering this question I could just see the floodgate about to errupt. Chun-Li has only been in the states about 10-15 years, and you can tell that she is still adjusting to the multicultural aspects of New York as opposed to what she was used to in the Far East.

She then informed me that she has to ask such questions because she didn't know! She then explaied that when she used to see a Black woman with chemically straightened hair that she would think that the woman's hair was naturally that straight! She also thought that afros were fake!!! Talk about reversal. But wait, there is more. The kicker is that when she first moved to the states, she kept on hearing that many people couldn't tell Asian people apart. She then admitted that at first she thought everyone else looked alike!! She couldn't tell Black people apart from white people!!! Is this feasible?!!?!?!?

The Little Radio That Could

2005-08-25T07:02:00.000-07:00

One of the sour point about my job is the fact that at times it can be very tedious. We have a ton of paperwork, files, and just plain old red tape that we have to manage on a daily basis to make sure we get the job done. Which means that there may be literally, entire days in which we are engaged in mindless tedious work that seems to have no end. I don't know about you all, but nothing bores the shit out of me more than mindless work for hours apon hours. The only thing that makes this bearable is the fact that we have a little office radio that we put on every morning, and play until 5:00 every afternoon. This radio has got to be at least 10 years old, as it has an old school analog dial, a tape player, and even an FM "boost" button. Suffice it to say, it can be here and there with reception.

I would love this little office radio whole-heartedly, if not for the fact that I work with two older white ladies. Guess what we play on this little radio every day? Giant hint: It's not the urban station. While I'd love to be listening to the likes of 50 Cent, Sean Paul, and maybe even a little Fantasia (though that chick's voice gets on my damn nerves sometimes), instead I get Lite FM, and the likes of Foreigner, Kelly Clarkson, Los Lonely Boys, and Dido (I have grown fond of that song that Eminem sampled for "Stan" - its' kinda hot) - you get the picture. While this selection of music is bearable, I hear the same damn songs EVERYDAY, which can at times become tiring. It's even worse around Christmas time, when Lite FM plays nothing but Christmas songs. Try listening to the same rotation of about 20 Christmas jingles every day for about 3 weeks!

So, you can imagine how happy I get when I'm all alone in the office. I secretly sneak to the radio, and I change the damn station! I have to be careful when doing that though - Anyone can hear what I'm playing if they walk into my office. I've had a few instances where the unsuspecting yuppy walks into my office, hears something objectionable on the radio, gives me that good old cross-eyed stare for a few seconds, and then talks to me. When I can, I turn the radio as low as possible if I know someone is about to enter the shop. Alright, faithful followers, I gotta run, the Barbara Streisand is on!

Happy Birthday

2005-08-25T06:51:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday shouts to my boy Quint!!

Temperature Control

2005-08-23T12:41:00.000-07:00

Good day folks. I apologize for the long delay between this and my previous post, but this wannabe writer's been busy! Anyhow, don't you just love it when someone says something that is oh-so-obvious that you can't help but crack the hell up at their stupidity? One of the more interesting aspects about life in the little shop has always been how cold or hot is in the office. I, like most people I know enjoy a nice moderate temperature - one in which you can sit and do your work without putting on more clothing nor taking anything off. The Director, on the other hand, usually likes it cold, but since she has her own space, she can easily close her door to keep others from being subjected to her frigid temperatures. Babs, also likes it cold, but she unfortunately cannot keep her climate control to herself...

We are lucky enough to have central air conditioning in our building, which means that during the summer, while the rest of the world bakes, we enjoy a nice cool setting. The central air is usally good enough for me, but Babs, like clockwork, comes in sweating every morning and asks me to turn on our personal air conditioner that we have in the little shop. So lets recap - central air + personal air conditioning = cold as hell... I freeze my ass off in here every morning just to keep good old Babs from getting heat stroke in a 70 degree office. After a good hour or so she usually tells me that I can turn it off, but don't let her get busy doing anything active, because on it goes again.

Funnily enough Mrs. V came into our office this morning and commented on how cold it was. She, unlike Babs, is actually a very petite older woman, and I can see how she would always be cold. Babs, as a larger old woman, is usually warmer than most, and to me it makes perfect sense why the two of them always have opposite sensations of hot and cold. Mrs. V said to Babs, "I don't know how you can do it. It's freezing in here! How can you work in such cold?" Babs replied, "I don't know, but since I was younger I've always gotten really hot really quickly! I'm always sweating!" Have you been going through menapause since your 20's Babs?? Jeez, get a clue. The look in Mrs. V's eyes screamed "It's cause you're a fat fuck!" I quickly hid my head in my hands and cried in silent laughter as I continued to shiver.

Digression Part II

2005-08-16T10:45:00.000-07:00

I hope some of you out there drink and get this. So, I spent this last Saturday at my parents' house as they were having a barbeque for some family. Anyhow, I saw some of my mothers younger cousins (they are close in age to me) who I am on and off close with. One of them showed me some pictures of another one of our cousins who lives in Canada right now. Let's call her Lisa. Anyhow, this picture was of Lisa and a really really dark skinned young man, and they were both dressed up in what look like prom outfits (she just graduated from high school). What was striking about the picture was the contrast in skin tones between the two of them - Lisa is mixed, Black and Indian with a fair complexion, and as mentioned before, her date was a none too attractive dark skinned young man. I looked at the picture and asked my cousin - "Who is this that Lisa went out with!!??" My cousin looked back at me with a smirk and said "Oh, that was her prom date, Johnny." "Johnny, huh?" I replied... "Yeah, his name is Johnny, but I called him Johhny Walker Black!"

Birthday Presents

2005-08-11T12:02:00.000-07:00

Why must people in offices always, always, always give presents to each other for birthdays and Christmas? I, personally, think it's more of a pain in the ass than a nice thing to do (except if it's my birthday of course). Especially in work situations where you get along with the people you work with, but don't care about them enough to actually put thought (or money) into a decent present. Other offices are probably pretty bad about this stuff, but the shop takes it to a different level. Let me explain.

First of all, my larger organization celebrates EVERYTHING. Not only do we get a bazillion days off, but we party and celebrate anything and everything we can (Would the shit hit the fan for you if you found out that the place where you spent most of your childhood had several extensive collections of fine liquor?). We're that bad. We have a Christmas party, celebrations for marriages, baby showers, wedding showers, parties for people who leave, reunion parties, fund raising - you name it, we have it, and we have booze. That being said, you can probably start to appreciate the festive atmosphere here, and understand why we're so big on gift-giving.

My problem is that I just never know what to get, and sometimes I don't even know that a certain situation deserves a gift, or that you should be getting certain people gifts. For example, there is a lady who comes into our office quite frequently who we work with on and off. She knows us well, but she isn't really part of our little operation. Christmas came around last year, and she bought me a gift! And, she gave it to me on the last day before we broke for vacation! I had nothing for her! How was I supposed to know to get her something? I already get something for Babs, the Director, MJ, and even a couple other people. Sigh, I felt like a jackass.

When I do get presents for one of my coworkers, I have trouble figuring out what would be good for the said compadre. Movie tickets? Gift certificates? Perfume? Wine? I never know what they would like, and I always feel like I'd get something horrible. One year my coworker gave me a serving tray for drinks, and a dinky one at that. What am I supposed to do with a dinky serving tray? So, as this year rolls up on fall, I shall start planning. Babs birthday is coming soon, and Christmas is just beyond that. I gotta find the perfect present.

Vacations

2005-08-10T10:18:00.000-07:00

Working in the little shop definitely has its perks sometimes. We get free lunch, we're paid for overtime hours(even though we are salary), and we get craploads of time off! This year alone I've taken my two weeks vacation, my ten sick and personal days, and my weeks off for Christmas and spring break! Not to mention, we also are given Fridays off during the summer. Not a bad deal! This summer I am taking some vacation time - I take off every Monday (which means I get four day weekends!), and only come in to work Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. It's been a great way to catch up with friends and to also catch up with stuff I neglected to do when my schedule was busier.

While I'm thrilled with the time I get, it doesn't even compare to the Director and Babs. The Director is currently on a week-long tour of south-east asia with her rich husband, soaking in the rays and the culture. She takes random days off throughout the year, as well as about three different weeks off for random small vacations when they arise. Babs, on the other hand, probably has more time off now that time on! She's off the ENTIRE month of August, and she had previously taken two weeks in July. That, in addition to her sick days, and holiday vacations, I feel like she's never here! But, I can't complain. What would I do with myself if I had a whole month off at home (cause that's exactly where her blubbery behind is right now)? I'd bore myself to death. So instead of being jealous, I choose to bask in the quiet of the office with a good movie, some music, and occasional work.

Blah Blah Friggin Blah

2005-08-04T10:15:00.000-07:00

During the glorious days of summer I receive a bit of a reprieve. The Director and Babs usually take their billion days of vacation during August, which leave me at peace to do whatever the hell I want, at my own pace, and quietly. The Director just left yesterday to go on an extravagant vacation with her husband while Babs and MJ have been spending their extravagant vacation on their behinds at home. I woke up this morning a little happier than most mornings, knowing that I would be completely alone today. I packed a couple of DVD's, I brought my iPod computer connector, and a good book - I was set to take advantage of a vacation day at work.

I arrived at 8:30 this morning, opened my office door, and saw a glorious sight - no one back there! I was in heaven. I sat down at my computer, powered it on, and decided to surf the net for a few minutes before getting into my proper activities for the day. Suddenly the phone rang, and I thought, this had better be friggin quick. "Hello," I answered. It was the director. She was cheery as usual, and at the airport awaiting her flight to paradise. As I conversed with her about her upcoming journey I wondered - who bothers to call their office to check in an hour before they take off on a great vacation? I know she trusts me (at least I think she does), so I still can't figure it out. Anyhow, I spaced out on most of the conversation, saying "uh-huh," and "sounds like fun," "enjoy," "take lots of pictures," and "we'll miss you here" quite a few times. Before I knew it, the blah, blah, blahs turned into "have a wonderful week!"

I settled back to my morning chores of procrastination when the phone rang again! This time it was Babs!!! "Hi!!!...... Whatcha doin?...... Is it quiet there today?" I'm doing shit, and yes Babs, it is quiet - until you friggin broke the silence in here. It turned out that Babs actually had more in mind to discuss that the quiet in the office. She couldn't get on to her email at home, so I helped her to download our actual email client, and walked her through the steps of setting it up. Next thing I knew, she wanted to know how to import a chart into a word document that she was helping her son, the Prince with. Come on!! Does this sound like little shop biz to you? Before you know it, I was on the phone with her for 45 minutes, and she still couldn't figure this all out. I finally got her to accept the fact that she was going to have to find another way around this by tuning her out. But she's a sneaky old broad - "He needs to have this done by tomorrow! And we just have to have this chart in!" I sucked it up, pretty much did the damn thing myself, emailed it back to her, and then listened to her kiss my ass for 10 minutes before hanging up. A whole hour and a half wasted on Babs!! On my vacation day! Sigh, the movie will have to wait...

Digression

2005-08-02T16:05:00.000-07:00

I had a funny little incident happen to me last night that has nothing to do with the little shop that I want to share. I was out late last night with some friends, and didn't get on the train to head home until around 2:00AM. When I got to the express stop closest to my local stop, I got off the train, sat down on one of the large wooden benches to await my beloved R train. I pulled out my book, started to read, and patiently awaited the local.

Out of the blue, a random early 20's young lady sat down really close to me. Usually, if there is no one else on one of the large wooden NYC subway benches, I think its usually pretty good etiquettel to give yourself about a two seat spacing (at minimum) between yourself and another bench occupant. This lady placed herself just one seat away from mine, which caused me to look over at her briefly. As I glanced in her direction, I saw her glance back at me.

"Excuse me," she said. "My name is Vanessa, and I'm a good Christian." As I stared incredulously at her, I noticed that she had a big suitcase with her and I also noticed the armpit hairs peeking out from underneath her arms. As I took her in (visually) I wondered what she could possibly want from me at 2 in the morning. I hoped that all she wanted to know was how to get to her home destination, but I would not be so lucky. "I'm currently looking for a job, but I need a place to stay for a little while - do you think you can help me out??" What in the hell??? Since when can you go up to a random person on the subway, in New York, at 2:00 in the morning, and ask if you can stay with them?? She must have lost her damn mind. Even though I was thinking this, I didn't think it appropriate to actually say this to her. "I'm sorry Miss, but I live with my parents, and I don't think they would have room for someone else to stay with them" I lied. I looked back at my book hoping that she would have taken the hint and leave it well alone. Nope. "Do you think you can ask your parents if it would be ok if I stayed with them?" No dummy, I don't think I can ask my parents if you can stay with us... Leave me alone. "I'm sorry but we don't have that much room, and it's much to late to be calling them." Hoping that this was finally the end of it, I went back to my book again...

"Well, can you help me out with some change?" she continued. This had to be the stupidest, can't take a hint lady on the face of the damn planet. I told her that all I had was ten cents, which she then asked me for. After I gave it to her, she asked me which train she should take to get somewhere. After answering her last question she finally left me alone, yet I could still feel her eyes glancing over to me every few seconds. I don't think anyone could be that dumb. What was really going on there? Was she looking for some ass? Was she just that desperate? Who knows, but in retrospect it was funny as hell...

Babs' Husband

2005-07-28T06:06:00.000-07:00

So....... Babs has a husband. And he also works within my organization, and very close to the little shop. Her husband is... um... special. Let's just call him MJ for all intents and purposes. The thing that strikes me about this pair (Babs and MJ) is how similar they are, and how much they resemble each other. MJ is also a short roly-poly white person, with extra stubby hands. Can fingers work properly when they are wider than they are long? The funny thing is that he's actually quite an accomplished musician, playing almost any and every instrument under the sun. I couldn't imagine plucking a guitar, tickling a piano, or banging a drum with nothing but stubs protruding from my hands.

Anyhow, like Babs, MJ is also an inappropriate toucher. I actually haven't been privvy to see any instances of such behavior, but I certainly have heard reports. For example, there used to be a young lady who worked in the building adjacent to the little shop, who was very cute, and lets just say on the big-bosomed side. One day last fall, I ran into this young lady and engaged her in a conversation, and she mentioned to me that MJ cut through her building to go home that day. She's met MJ on quite a few occasions, but what reason would a cute 26 year old have to regularly engage a 60 year old man? She informed me that MJ, on his way out, actually went up to her and gave her a hug! But this was no ordinary hug. This hug lingered, and she said that she could actually feel him rubbing and copping a feel on her assets with his chest. I didn't need to ask how horrible this experience was. A look of dread was all over her face.

There are a few young ladies that work just downstairs from the little shop, who are also in their 20's. They too have described incidences of inappropriate staring, attempts at hugs, and double entendre comments. To think that this is all going on literally 30 feet away from the little shop!! Babs is in here with me and the Director, and her husband, MJ, is out there harassing young women, and attempting to cop feels! Should I actually feel sorry for Babs for these minor infractions of their marriage contract? I think not! She touches me too! Most frightful of all, is the sight of their son. Prince, as I will call him, also works within the organization, he is also short, and he's also on his way to becoming quite roly-poly while only in his early 20's. In my two short years knowing him, I've learned that he's also quite the musician, and that he hasn't had too much luck with the ladies. Will he, too, become an inappropriate toucher in his old age? Only time will tell.

Inappropriate Touching

2005-07-27T08:26:00.000-07:00

Have any of you ever been a victim of inappropriate touching? I'm not talking about, you know, when you were a kid, cause that's really really inappropriate. I mean as an adult, when on the train, when out in public, or maybe even amongst friends. Let's take the train example - you know (especially you women out there) how when you get on the train to go to work in the morning and how it's always packed? For some reason, isn't there always that one really unattractive person who seems to get just a little too close to you just to touch you somewhere? That's the kind of inappropriate touching that I'm talking about, and it seems to go on almost daily here in the little shop.

As I explained in a previous post, Babs is an old white, overweight roly-poly pudge of a southern woman, and she often likes to get a little too close to me, especially when I've got a back ache or after I've helped her out with something. On one occasion I came into work after having slept the wrong way the night before. I kept stretching while at work, and Babs came to take notice. Before you know it, she was asking me what had happened, and if I needed some tylenol. I gratefully accepted the tylenol, not knowing that I made an unknowing trade with her. Before I knew it, she was over by my desk with her stubby little hands on my back attempting to give me a massage. I hated the fact that it actually felt kind of good while wanting nothing more than to get her grubby fingers off of me. Sigh, the things I put up with.

We recently upgraded all of our computer in the little shop to go along with our brand spanking new database. Babs has been having her little troubles with the new systems and has seeked my expertise in many areas this past week. This morning, there was something stupidly easy that for some reason she didn't know how to do. So she asked me if I could show her on my computer. Once again, I made a deal with the devil. She waddled over, set up shop right over my shoulder and watched as I showed her how to attach a document to her email. The puzzling thing about this chance encounter was the fact that I felt something pushing into my right arm. It was soft and intrusive. It took me all of a split second for me to notice that it was her belly she was rubbing against my arm! Her fat roly-poly belly was being massaged unknowingly by my right arm! I pulled away immediately, but unwanting to break all contact, Babs put her hand on my shoulder. Maybe I'll get lucky this week, and she'll retire, and we'll hire a hot 22 year old.

Technical Difficulties

2005-07-18T20:48:00.000-07:00

Have you ever watched painfully as an older person struggles with a computer? My job, fortunately and unfortunately, is very much computer-driven. When you have to deal with 600-plus applicants to your school, you better have a damn good database and people that know how to use it. And if I may say so myself, I know how to use the damn thing..... Unfortunately, Babs doesn't.

We received a new database program 2 years ago and we both learned its intricacies through a lengthy training session with some guy who came to us all the way from Virginia. Unfortunately, Babs has never been completely comfortable with computers in general. She has always had little problems with really simple operations (hmmmm.... anyone want to come teach a 65 year old how to minimize and maximize windows?), so I guess it should come as no surprise that advanced databasing migh be just a tad bit too much for good ol' Babs.

We recently decided to upgrade our database, which means two fun-filled days away from the little shop for computer training. My hope was that Babs would really buckle down these two days, invoke the spirit of a 5 year old kindergartner and learn how to use a damn computer. I was shocked to see that she was actually able to follow the lessons pretty closely, and dare I say, she seemed to be learning! By 4:30 my brain was swamped with some good information, and I was honestly feeling really good about what this new product could do for our office. I turned to Babs and stated: "I think I'm gonna like this upgrade... the new good stuff seems to really outweigh the stuff they messed up." Babs looked back at me and retorted, "Well, I'm glad you like it! I don't even remember chapter 1 [of our training manual] anymore!"

Brown Workers

2005-07-13T09:16:00.000-07:00

Today had looked like it would be another boring day in the the shop with very little to do, but of course no day would be complete without a little drama to brighten our existences here. I don't know how many of you know this, but in small private schools most of the kids and adults are white. These rich white kids come into contact with people of color in the school pretty much only when they get served at lunch and when they wander the halls and see someone cleaning up after them. The maintenance and lunch staff are all Black and latino, they get paid very little, and they get absolutely no respect from the students nor many of the adults that work here. So, when I wandered in today and found 15 televisions sitting in our hallway and was told that they would be raffled away to only the kitchen and maintenance staff, I smiled that the school was actually doing something really nice! They work relentlessly and hardly ever receive any credit or acknowledgment of the great job they do. Additionally, they never get any of the great perks tha the other adults receive!

As soon as Babs found out that we were not eligible to win any of the prizes, guess what she did??? She went fucking bezerk!! "Why can't we get the free TV's too? We don't get any recognition back here!" (Mind you, Babs has a TV at home, and wouldn't actually have a use for one - it's the principalities!) No, Babs, we do get little recognition for our work, but at least we get paid well, at least we get nice perks, and at least we get some semblance of a nice summer. In strolls the director and she asks about all the TV's, so we tell her what the deal is. When Babs starts complaining to the Director that she thinks its unfair that we can't take home a free TV (mind you these are relics of the mid to late 90's - we're not talking about flat-screens here), the Director looks at me and asks what I think about the situation. I look her deep in her eyes and tell her the truth. I don't mind. I continue on to rant that the maintenace and kitchen staff get very little recognition for their work and that its nice that something, ever so little is being done just for them. Babs' old eyes flew open and she looked like a small woodland creature ready to pounce. She screamed "WE DON'T GET ANY RECOGNITION EITHER." That's not the fucking point Babs - We could probably afford to pass up a free 27-inch TV, they can't. The Director looked at me in silent agreement. Me and the Director shared a bond in this moment, and I'm sure we both thought: "They SHOULD get something every once in a while that nobody else gets, it's the principalities...."

Dirty Underwear

2005-07-12T11:21:00.000-07:00

After much prodding and poking from my good friend, The Quintessential Negro, I have finally decided to, reluctantly, join the online blogging phenomenon. As you can tell by my name, and the name of this blog, I fashion myself as a man of horror and as a man of humor. While I'm not nearly as scary as the real Stephen King, nor as funny as, say...., Rick Moranis, my working life is full of both humor and horror.

I am currently employed by a very famous school in New York as a member of the Admissions Office. I call my blog the Little Shop of Horrors because we are in many respects a "little shop" in respect to how we function. There are three of us that work in a very secluded region of the school: myself; my boss, the Director; and Babs, my coworker. Over the course of this blog you will hopefully get to know us very well, and you shall all see the horror and humor of our day-to-day functionings.

Today I will start by describing Babs. She is a short older lady in her 60's, somewhat overweight, ok very overweight, and white. She is a nice lady, but she is always running her damn mouth. A typical day at work usually consists of me coming in sometime in the morning, saying good morning to Babs, and then listening to her talk for 8 straight hours to whoever while trying to do some work or procrastinate in between. While listening to her chatter, I have feared for my life, I have been disgusted, but mostly I've looked for someone to tell what crazy shit she had done today.

One normal morning last week, I strolled into the office at 8:30, greeted Babs, and started the day as I usually do - I turned on my computer, I stared off into space for 5 minutes while it booted up, I checked my email, some sports scores, and the news. I was shocked that Babs hadn't lured me from my morning routine by that time, actually to be honest I was ecstatic. Those 15- 20 minutes just when the day is starting is one of the most precious times in my day. It's a time where I can think about nothing, not really worry about work, and just gear up for the day in general. However, I should have known that God wasn't actually smiling down on me this morning. That would have been too good to be true. Something HAD to happen. About 4 minutes into my happiness, Mrs. V rolled into our office. She works with the big big boss of the school. Mrs. V and Babs are pretty friendly with each other, and they often enjoy a good morning laugh once in a while. Anyhow, Mrs. V strikes up a normal conversation with Babs which I, as I always do, tried to ignore. However, in the middle of their conversation, I shifted my focus from espn.com and noticed that Mrs. V and Babs were engaged in a deep whisper! What the hell was going on??? These two old ladies love to gossip, so I just had to know what they were saying.

I turned on the old super hearing and strained to catch a few choice words: "It must have been a joke!"..... "I can't wear that!" and "I bet those girls downstairs do!" And of course there was just endless whispering and laughing. The "girls downstairs" they referred to are the school's development office, which consists of 4 young women in their 20's who I actually really like, and enjoy spending time with. I digress. Before long, I saw Mrs. V whip out a small piece of paper and write something to Babs on it. They broke apart in laughter when Babs read it. The next think I knew, Mrs. V crumpled the piece of paper and threw it into Babs' garbage bin. My eyes lit up as I saw that God had given me the perfect opportunity to employ some detective work.

Mrs. V left the office a few minutes later, and Babs soon went into the Director's office. I saw my chance. I slid over to Babs' desk to look at a calendar, and with the stealth of a cheetah, I peered into the garbage bin and quickly removed a small, slightly stained, crumpled piece of ordinary loose leaf paper. I smiled wickedly and returned to my desk in the corner. I opened up the crumpled paper and in my own whisper I read the words "like dental floss for your butt" scribbled in Mrs. V's handwriting. I lost it right then and there, and almost choked trying to stifle an enormous fit of negro-laughter. It would have been one of those laughs that could have gotten me fired on the spot for reminding everyone that I was indeed a black man that had somehow inflitrated their ranks.

Anyhow, as I mentioned before, God rarely smiles at me in this job. As I returned to my desk from sneaking the crumpled paper to its proper place an aweful picture entered my head. I envisioned both Mrs. V and Babs wearing thongs to work! Oh the horror.