Shindig

Got the mancub packed off to his grandparents' house, so now all that's left to do is finish cleaning the house. Four hours until people start arriving to ritually curb-stomp 2005! Got Siouxsie Sioux on the turntable, the incense is burning, and the absinthe has been freed from its lair. I'll post pictures of the debauchery tomorrow if my head's not pounding too hard.

Margaret

I try to be a nice guy. Seriously. I always try to take the feelings of others into account and I go out of my way to be helpful. I am courteous, even-tempered, and kind to animals. I was not always like this; I have worked hard to change my outlook on life and boorish ways.

Margaret says that I am mean.

Margaret is the new girl - and when I say "girl", I mean it in the "frumpy gum-chomping 40-something" sense - at work. Now, the job of a thermoplastic extrusion technician may not pay much, but it's a hideously complicated and demanding enterprise. Lots of multitasking, lots of paperwork, lots of on-the-fly improvisation and troubleshooting - and lots of very, very simple math. It's that bit about the math that finally made me snap at Margaret. One should also keep in mind that she's been with the company for about four months, three of which were supposed to be "intensive one-on-one training".

Margaret, having completed her initial training, was assigned to the Midnight shift. Oh joy. Guess who keeps getting assigned to continue her training? When I asked Margaret what kinds of things they trained her on during her stint on Day Shift, her reply was a shrug and "Nothin' much." Margaret could not figure out how to tape a box shut. She could not stack parts neatly in a box, could not understand the concept that a 470 degree die will burn you if you touch it, and well, forget entering sample data on the computer or using a set of calipers to see if the part is in spec. No, all of this was just too much for Margaret.

And so, being the nice guy that I am, I began taking up her slack. I patiently explained things again and again. And again. I wrote things down for her, explaining the same concept in two or three different ways, hoping that I'd hit upon a way to make her get it.

Either she wasn't paying attention or she had the intelligence of a retarded snail.

The straw that broke the camel's back came along when Margaret and I were working on a job that had multiple work orders for several different lengths of polyurethane tubing. The data for each work order had to be entered separately - time spent, number of parts produced, how many pounds of scrap, and total pounds of raw material. The same information as any other job in the shop. In going over the paperwork at the end of the shift, I noticed a few slight problems.

"Margaret, how did we do seventeen hours of work in the span of eight hours?"
Shrug "I dunno."
"Well, how did you add up the hours from all the work orders?"
Shrug "I just guessed."
"Margaret, you have to add them up to get the total."
(getting angry) "You put all those weird numbers down."
"Weird numbers?"
(points to the "time" column) "Two-one-four? What's that supposed to mean?"
"Um, Two and a quarter hours? Two hours and fifteen minutes?"
"Well, I don't know about any of that!"
"That's odd, seeing as how most third graders have no trouble with the concept!"

I was astounded. Dumbfounded. I didn't even get to the point of asking her why she didn't weigh any scrap, fill the hopper with material, or perform any other job duties. I just turned around, went into the office and re-did the paperwork. The next day, I was told that Margaret complained to my boss that I was mean and yelled at her because she was a woman.

Margaret and I don't talk much any more.

And so the wheel turns...

Robert Ghost Wolf has passed away at the age of 58. Although his gig was a little too fluffy for my taste, I nevertheless enjoyed listening to the guy when he did the radio talk show circuit. He always struck me as being a very sincere and all-around nice fellow.

Debut

Welcome dear friends, to the Cabinet of Loathsome Curiosities. Herein, the brave seeker of oddments may find delightful grotesqueries to salve the shattered soul. Here, we see the Amazing Translucent Monkey, acquired by Lord Karnarven during his ill-fated trek through HyBrasil. There, the last surviving copy of Friedrich von Junzt's Unaussprechlichen Kulten, rescued from the fires of the Inquisition and spirited away to the New World. Ah, best not approach that statue fragment; non-Euclidean geometry and all, don't you know. Enjoy the raves, rants, and blasphemous chants. And please - don't forget to tip the masked gorilla on your way out.

Exotically yours,
Mystillate