Virtual vehicles for the metaverse
The cube farm is indeed a place of mystery. Why are cubicles grey? Where do recycled documents go after you put them in the bin? Why does the coffee always taste so much worse than the coffee you make at home?
But the biggest puzzle of all is the stapler. We have all seen the setting on the stapler that lets you bend the staples outward instead of inward. Why would you want to bend the staples outward?
I don’t know. It’s a mystery.
The weekend can’t be here soon enough. Now that the weather is warm, I’m aching to find a quiet spot where I can shoot things.
Like Emese, I too have a new camera that I’m aching to try. It’s not the drool-inducing professional camera that she bought, but it’s a big step beyond my automatic box-with-a-lens towards a real camera.
I spent some time last night puzzling over new concepts like shutter speed, aperture, ISO, and manual focus. Already I’m amazed by what I can capture in low-light situations. Can anyone recommend a good book on the subject?
In the meantime, as I slog through edits to a new manual, the gorgeous scenery outside of the window taunts me. From where I sit, I can see over Coal Harbour and Stanley Park, and beyond to the mountains. Time to apply my nose to the proverbial grindstone or I’ll be looking at this view all weekend too.
With apologies to Rogers and Hammerstein…
Ripping up roses and stomping on kittens
Sporks made of metal and earning a pittance
Brown soggy sandwiches crawling with things
This is what happens when EOL sings.
[A hotel room in a state of disarray. An agitated woman in her fifties, MRS. HOGSWORTH, hobbles from the bathroom to a table next to the window. She is dressed very conservatively, and her right sleeve and front appear to be soaked with something. From a handbag on the table, she extracts a cell phone, dials three digits, then waits anxiously, checking over her shoulder frequently.]
MRS. HOGSWORTH: [into phone] Pardon me? Oh, um… ambulance please. No, police. NO! Ambulance. Yes. Definitely ambulance. Can I order both? I’m really not an expert on the subject. I’ve never called 911 before so I don’t really know the routine. I mean I’ve seen it on tv and stuff but–
[short pause]
Where’s the what? Oh! I’m in Winnipeg.
[short pause]
Okay, don’t get snippy. I didn’t know how much detail you wanted. You have to be specific, okay?
Okay. Um… I’m at the hotel… um… I can’t remember the name. Some hotel. At the corner of [peering out the window] the street with the Dairy Queen on it and the other street, you know the one that crosses it, the one with the big… flashing thing… I don’t know the name. You know, the big, flashing… It’s all… flashing and big.
[short pause]
No, I don’t know the street names. How am I supposed to know the street names? I’m from Vancouver for chrissake! I just flew in this morning and I’ve been travelling all day and I really haven’t had time to memorize all the street names just yet–
[short pause]
Landmarks? Landmarks… um… ok. I mentioned the big flashing thing that’s all big and–
[short pause]
Don’t get snippy! Don’t… get… snippy!
I mean I’m trying here. I mean I just came into town and I’m expected to know all the street names and landmarks and what kind of two-bit operation are you running here? Can’t you just trace the call and we can skip the sight seeing tour of Winnipeg and get to the point? This is an emergency, or did they leave that detail out of your training?
[short pause]
What?
[short pause]
Yes it’s a cell phone.
[pause]
Oh. Okay, well I didn’t know you can’t trace cell phone calls.
[She peers out the window at her surroundings.]
Fine. I’m on the second floor… I can see… that Dairy Queen… and a mailbox at the corner… and… there’s a Bank of Montreal… and a Petrocan station… Oh! And look for the crowd of people and the bleeding guy on the sidewalk. You can’t miss it.
[pause]
Yes. Bleeding guy. [enunciating exaggeratedly] The buh-leed-ding guy.
[pause]
I don’t know, it’s not like I’m a doctor or anything. He’s just bleeding. From his head I think. It’s hard to tell how bad because he’s wearing a red shirt. No, hold on… it’s a white shirt with blood on it.
[pause]
What do you mean an ambulance is already on its way? How could an ambulance possibly be on its way? You don’t know where I am and for crying out loud we just wasted precious minutes gabbing about the big, flashing thing, and the Dairy Queen, and the bleeding guy, and you didn’t even bother asking me what the fucking problem is!
[short pause]
FUCK THE BLEEDING GUY! What is your fucking obsession with bleeding guys?! You are one sadistic fuck, do you know that?
I’ve got an emergency situation here. Someone broke into my hotel room and all you want to do is gossip about bleeding guys and… and the Dairy Queen and… fucking landmarks.
[short pause]
What?
[short pause]
Yes! Broke into my room! I was at the market — you know the Forks Market — down by the river, and I buying all kinds of–
[menacing voice] Didn’t I tell you not to get snippy? I don’t want to warn you again.
Fine. So I got back to my room and the door was kicked in and my bags were open and all my stuff was all over and the fucker was still here.
[short pause]
Yes! He was still here!
[short pause, confused.]
Am I okay? No I’m not okay.
[short pause]
Well I was going to tell you why I need an ambulance, if you’d let me get to that.
Okay, so I smashed a bottle of whiskey over his head. It was definitely single malt scotch. Dammit, it was the good stuff too. Well after that, he kind of stumbled out the door, and anyway I twisted my ankle running to the bathroom to wash the whiskey off me and I don’t think I want to walk to the hospital myself, especially smelling like some kind of booze-fiend, so could you please hurry up and send an ambulance? Oh and the police too, because–
[pause]
The police are on their way too? How did you know where to send–
[peering carefully out the window towards the bleeding guy]
Do, um… do people bleed… a lot… from um… say… whiskey-related… wounds?
[pause]
Uh-huh.
[pause]
[hurried] Okay. Um… I’ve got to go now. Bye.
[She hangs up and skulks out the door.]
Looking at the cubicle poll results, I see that over half of the voters prefer hamster vindaloo over chicken, lamb, veggie, or shrimp. You sick, sick people.