Every time I Try to Get Out They Keep Dragging Me Back In. . .

Every time I Try to Get Out They Keep Dragging Me Back In. . .

Saturday Feb 9, 2008

Here it is Saturday morning and I’m supposed to be kicking back on the start of a two-week holiday—my last as an employee of Canada Post. Instead, come Monday I’ll be shut in an airless room in front of a fifteen inch laptop with no mouse making data entries into a picayune dialog box which refuses to maximize. Well, I was able to trick the system by resetting the computer screen’s resolution to a lower setting. The program updates route information, one route completed and forty-four to go! How did I let myself get talked into such insanity?

The FCC has fined ABC over an NYPD Blue nude butt scene from five seasons ago. They do realize they’ve guaranteed unparalleled sales of that Season on DVD and increased rentals for all video outlets that stock it! You might remember that Kitchener-Waterloo’s Oktoberfest was a small regional event until someone named Adamson as head of the LLBO decided they shouldn’t use a poster featuring a buxom lass holding, was it six or eight, foaming beer steins with an immodest amount of cleavage bursting out of her blouse. You can’t buy that kind of publicity. What’s all the fuss about in any case; is there really anyone who doesn’t know about the nudity clause in the contracts of all that show’s actors? Does anyone really need to see Dennis Franz fat ass?

On the Fifth had another go at writing minutes on my laptop during a meeting. I would choose to leave the power cord at home for the first meeting that went over 2 hours. On the plus side I don’t have to calibrate my battery again for another month. We got a presentation on the evils of drugs and more than I needed to know about grow houses.

The reason I’ve missed a week’s blogging is the virus to which I’ve been playing unwilling host for the last two weeks. On the Sixth and Seventh essentially I lost two days. I don’t usually mind a legitimate excuse for taking a couple of days off work—I have more sick leave than days left to work—but this time my eyes were as rheumy as my nose and reading was an impossibility; eventually I even had to give up watching TV. Got out some audio-book type CD’s; my tape player is downstairs and I spent most of those two days in bed not even bothering to get dressed. When the infection reached my chest I coughed until my diaphragm was sore along with my lower stomach muscles.

I know, I know, I’m crazy; but then as we say you don’t have to be to work here—but it helps. Went in to work that Friday to get acquainted with a Post Office Laptop minus mouse and the data entry programme it runs. On the way home encountered an unprecedented traffic jam on Trafalgar Road. Fatefully I’d decided to have fish and chips out at a local pub which took me past Sheridan College. At the main intersection encountered a duo of police officers miss-directing traffic—the cause of the traffic jam—and noted a cruiser blocking the main entrance. It wasn’t until Saturday I learned the cause was a lock-down of the college occasioned by someone sighting what looked to them like someone carrying a weapon. One of the departments at Sheridan is photography; it shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that a student might be carrying around a tripod. Brings back memories of the day a friend and I innocently wandered into a Brock Univerity cafeteria to escape a shower while we were hiking and ran into a full court press emergency response—some jock had spilt his body building whey powder. I’ve been as quizzical of the paranoia over anthrax in the Post Office; green postal bands come packed in talcum powder. Our local incident gave the Police Services of at least three area regions the opportunity to try out all their toys.

February 18, 2008

So sue me, I’ve fallen behind. This past weekend I indulged myself completely. Turned up the heat to encourage the laundry I’m doing to dry and didn’t bother to get dressed. Two things happened this week to give me pause to ponder. One of my fellow workers got interviewed—euphemism alert—for dropping outgoing mail he’d picked up from his customers in a Street Letter Box. Apparently it’s OK to do your customers favours but appearances being important one should lug that mail around until one gets back to the office. Not so convenient when one is on foot. He was accused of “red-boxing” his mail. On Friday an employee was shown the door permanently. Whether or not he actually deserved firing I could not be the caring person I claim to be if it didn’t cause me some sadness at the plight of another.

As advertised I spent most of last week—close to fifty hours—in a cubby hole making data entries on a laptop. I also made case plans for three routes. In addition I kept an appointment to have my hearing tested—the next one will cost $80-100. I’m not there yet but I don’t look forward to having to wear a hearing aid. What’s up with that? While I was in the area went back to have my eyes tested. To my surprise I learned that as I have astigmatism not only does the Ontario Government now cover my eye exams in spite of their delistment but does so on a yearly basis. Who knew; certainly not I as I’ve skipped them for four years? Fortunately my eyes are no better or worse than they’ve ever been.

I ate out three times this week patronizing my old faithful East Side Marios and Swiss Chalet—my waitress remembered I like lots of salad dressing and brought me two servings and vinegar for my chips. After hearing rave reviews I dropped by Cora’s for breakfast after making a very early start one day. I may have caught them on a bad day but service was glacial—they ignored me when I walked in the door and my food order was so slow the waitress actually commented. The coffee was fresh but bland, lacking the rich body I’d prefer; the food was over-cooked and I was unimpressed by salad dressing offered in a box containing blister packs. Perhaps I’ll try once more for their blueberry pancake special. Just checked and learned that the local Golden Griddle is temporarily closed.

So that’s the weeks that were. Retirement never looked so good. 191 days and counting down. I have a lot of work I should do in preparation for that event this week on the home front.