Happy hour at the cube farm

Fridays at the office. At every company I’ve worked for, Fridays are always marked by some kind of social event, including one or more of: beer, movies, games, snacks, or on particularly wacky Fridays, a company meeting. I appreciate their effort in organizing these events, of course. And the intent is to make their employees happy, because a happy employee is a productive employee. Great! Please keep it up! But not on Friday!

For crying out loud! At the end of a long work week, I for one want to leave at 5:00 sharp and return to my real life. Oh, I like my co-workers — they’re great people. But I see them every single freakin’ day, all day.

I’ve got my own ideas about how to make Fridays a little better. What if they passed around Irish coffees in the morning? That would help things along until noon, at least. Then free lunch at the pub (the one without the rats), which would take at least three hours. Then, around 3:00, the final hours would slip by with the help of the recreational drugs.

Well maybe not that last one. But you get the idea. Make Friday something to look forward to, and employees would give their all from Monday to Thursday. It’s called building loyalty.

I suppose, however, that we should just be content that we still have a job, and that we didn’t arrive on Friday to find that our security card no longer lets us into the building. Rumour has it that in corporate culture, generally Friday is the preferred day to give someone their walking papers. They’re less likely to go postal, I suppose.

So. It’s Friday, I’m still employed, and it’s happy hour in the employee lounge. At 5:00, I shall have to say thank you, but I’m off to catch the bus.

The end is nigh

According to an article on the BBC website, we may all get splattered by a really big asteroid on February 1, 2019. Don’t panic just yet — the calculations are “uncertain” and the asteroid may miss us by “several tens of millions of kilometres”. All the same, I might take a little trip over to the next planet that day.

More self-aborbant material

I’ve been told that writing a blog is proof that I’m self-absorbed. I can’t remember who said that, but it certainly made me think.

Could it be true? I asked myself this question again and again, and even meditated on a photograph of myself for at least an hour longer than usual.

It must be true. Anyone who writes a weblog is completely egotistical. After all, how many blogs and personal journals are written about someone other than the author?

Furthermore, to write about anything is unforgivable. It’s arrogance to believe that one’s words are of enough value to be published.

And so, to the kind person who helped me understand the truth, thank you. Your point has been well-taken. From this point forward, I will remain completely silent on all subjects. And I strongly encourage all journalists, essayists, novelists, and especially autobiographers to do the same.

Scampering out for some late night grease

I have a weakness for greasy food. I try to stay away, but it calls out to me.

At about ten last night, the craving hit me. It occurred to me that nothing could be better than a Whopper Junior(tm) with a side of onion rings. Actually, it was a tie between that and Wendy’s “hot ‘n’ juicy” bacon mushroom melt, which is known to induce cardiac arrest within five minutes of consumption. The onion rings were the tie-breaker — there’s a little extra MSG on the onion rings at Burger King, I suspect, which makes them irresistable to me.

Now before you cast your disapproving frowns in my direction, keep in mind that all I’d eaten all day was a small salad at lunch. I’d done my healthy thing, now I had to balance that goodness with pure, hot, dripping evil. And as the King is probably Satan’s sous-chef (with Ronald as head chef, of course), I headed out to the BK drive-through.

After bellowing my order at the intercom, I found myself waiting for a few minutes while they tended to a difficult customer ahead of me in a black Mustang. For some reason, people in black Mustangs are always difficult customers.

Suddenly I noticed movement in my peripheral vision. No, it wasn’t the DTs. A small, brown rat scampered along the curb on my right and disappeared into a shrubbery. Unusually bold, I thought.

Then it scampered back and disappeared from whence it came. Interesting. Then it scampered back again, followed by another one. And another. Presently, there were close to a dozen of varying sizes, darting single file into the shrubbery. Apparently the first was just scouting ahead.

In a drive-through lineup, rat-watching is excellent entertainment.

Finally, the doofus in the Mustang drove away. I exchanged my cash for the bag of grease and, as I pulled away, I had to wait for the queue of rats to scamper across my path and into the back of the Burger King. I guess it’s true that a satisfied customer is a return customer. For minions of evil, rats are kind of cute, and I didn’t want to crush any of them under my tires.

I hoped that the BK staff kept their doors closed at night. I really didn’t want to discover anything unpleasant in my Whopper Junior. Like anything with rodent origins, specifically.

I’m sure the fine people at BK keep their establishment very clean, but all the same, I think I’ll stay away from anything on the menu with bacon bits. Or shredded, unidentifiable meat products.

That kind of excludes most of the menu.

Next time I get the late-night munchies, I’ll drop by the local pub instead. Oh, there are rats there too, but only four of them have been sighted at any one time.

()

Citytv — proof that cloning works

With no shortage of self-generated hooplah, fooferah, and hullabaloo, Moses Znaimer’s Citytv assembly line cranked out another clone of Toronto’s trendy local broadcaster. Citytv was all over the Vancouver Sun, in the news on other stations, and even Gordon Campbell himself congratulated Cookie-cuttertv — oops, I mean Citytv — on it’s arrival in Vancouver.

Vancouver Citytv, (formerly CKVU, VU13, UTV, Global, then CKVU again) certainly has undergone a transformation. They took away news anchor Russ Froese’s desk and gave him a pair of hip new glasses. Say, that’ll drag in the viewers, and maybe inspire other forty-somethings to buy glasses too.

Following the Toronto formula, Citytv has big new windows on their building and a Speaker’s Corner video booth on the street. There’s only one unfortunate problem… unlike the Toronto Citytv building, which is smack in the middle of a bustling city, the CKVU building is tucked away at West 2nd and Columbia — basically in the middle of a near-empty warehouse district (but near the Clubhouse). Seriously — this is a wasteland where the foot traffic is almost negligible.

But I’ll stay glued to the television. Maybe someone else will lose their desk and the station will get so hip, they won’t be able to fit through a doorway.