Causal Fridays

I have a friend who works for E-Comm. E-Comm does 9-1-1 dispatching for the Greater Vancouver Regional District. She recommended to me that I apply as an auxiliary for the night shift – apparently it’s not that busy and one could get a lot of, say, drawing done in between calls. Now make no mistake, I am a stress bypassing specialist. I am not really keen on people depending on me for their lives and wellbeing. But the last time I applied for what I thought would be a sucky corporate job turned out to be pretty sweet (answering phones at the Royal Bank) so I went to their informational session and screening test on Saturday afternoon.

There were fifteen other applicants, none of whom looked even remotely interesting enough to talk to. That may have been the result of being asked to dress “business casual” (thanks to Best for helping me dress appropriately) but apart from that they all seemed humourless. In any case where humour was attempted, it failed, such as the remark by a woman who was taking one of the gratis snack items: “I better be careful or I’ll be as big as a house. Hahaha.” Droll, indeed. The management, on the other hand, had that “yes we’re a soulless corporation but we have fun, and we’ll prove it with this slideshow of our themed Christmas party and pancake breakfast” vibe. Oh cheers and hurrahs, what corporate-sanctioned merriment and hoopla we shall have! I’ll bring my “NO IRONY ZONE” placard to the Hallowe’en party, shall I?

I digress. So for the first hour we were given an overview of the company via Powerpoint presentation. The most interesting thing you need to know is that the company was formed after the 1994 Stanley Cup riots here in town. At the time the fire department and the police and the emergency response personnel could not communicate with one another because they were all on different radio systems. Because of that fiasco some act was passed and they all got on the same system, which is owned/maintained by E-Comm. So E-Comm not only takes 9-1-1 calls and directs them to the appropriate response teams, but they also communicate information to cops etc. As a result, part of being an employee there is submitting to an RCMP Reliability Status screening which is a 3-6 month (minimum) probing into your life over the past 5-10 years. Now I’m sure that if I were to submit to the investigation, I would pass. I haven’t smoked pot since 1990 and I have never been arrested, etcetera etcetera. However, I think that such a screening process is a little Orwellian for my liking.

The second part of the afternoon was a computer skills test. They put everyone on a computer which tested your typing accuracy, memory, listening and navigation skills. Through the entire 90 minute test every once in a while a RED ALERT! box would pop up on your screen and a situation would appear in the box, such as “a group of teens are dropping rocks off of an overpass” and you have to click on which response team to direct the emergency to – Police, Fire, EMT or utility. That was kind of fun and I think I was in the top three (at least in terms of speed of finishing the test)

After that we were split into groups for a general skills test. This one was exactly like those standardized tests from high school – filling in one of the A, B, C, D, E circles with your pencil. From that I learned that my math skills are in desperate need of polishing. The other parts were word meanings (aced that, natch) and memory (I think I did okay).

Then I waited for my personal interview in a big foyer accentuated by life-size cardboard cutouts of jovial looking people holding signs that read ACCOUNTABILITY and RESPECT. By this time I knew that a long-term position there would kill me, but really I knew that coming in, and throughout the process I was trying to rationalize a few things:

-Taking this job even for a little while might be good experience for me as a writer and just for interest’s sake.
-The six weeks training is paid for.
-The money is really good.
-Medical, dental, life insurance benefits.
-There’s an auxiliary position where you don’t have to commit to their 12 hour shifts.

So my cunning plan was to agree to the position and go through all the training, but quit before anyone’s life actually depended on me. Exceptionally cunning, no? But also predicated on a big fat lie and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to look anyone in the eye throughout the entire time. In fact throughout the afternoon I was compelled to just abandon the tests because I had other things that needed doing that day, and I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to follow through on the job, but I forced myself to commit to the session. Even the info session/screening was part of my “do it just for the experience of doing it” mandate – at least it will make an interesting blog entry (right?).

When I finally went in for my interview with the human resources department, I was relieved to find a real human being. She wasn’t at all fake, and I think if everyone involved was like her my impression of the ordeal and the job would have been markedly more positive. She talked to me honestly about the RCMP Reliability screening, the inflexibility of the scheduling, and the stress of the job. I didn’t make any promises or commitments but I asked a lot of questions about the job and told her I’d think about it as I dropped my visitor pass tag into the bin next to the exit and left the 70,000 square foot, reinforced concrete post-disaster facility forever.

Mr. Cranky Pants

I have been Mister Cranky Pants for most of the weekend due to, well, I’m not 100% sure. I think it’s a combination of being sick, losing my cell phone charger, trying (unsuccessfully as always) to be handy by putting up shelves, getting a flat tire and having to take crowded and annoying transit during shitty weather, and being on my male period. But I bought a new charger, my bike is fixed though still in the shop, my man-period is waning and Best has been living up to her name. I think tonight will be pizza and bubble tea night, or something equally extravagant. Hold me back if you can!

Noisy Restaurants

If you want a really good, gigantic plate of vegetarian nachos (corn on corn chips? Genius!) then The Foundation is for you. If you want to enjoy them without the added attraction of overly loud hiphop, order your nachos to go. Noisy restaurants ruin my meal. I hate them. I can understand if it’s noisy because it’s busy and there’s lots of people, but throwing loud music over top of the existing din? Madness! I don’t come to your restaurant for a rave, as much as you’d like to think so. I am paying for the food. And I feel more or less the same way about people performing in restaurants. It’s weird to me. I would not want to perform in front of a bunch of people who have come to eat and talk to one another over top of my performance. That seems rude to me on both ends. So, in summation, I avoid restaurants with live acts and loud music.

Flat Tire Again.

I went almost two weeks without a flat tire on my bike. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve taken the stupid thing in to get a flat fixed. I haven’t been riding over nails and glass, what could I be doing wrong? Does this happen to all cyclists?

Moving On…

Okay, moving on with whatever friends I have left….

Today I had a voiceover job for a car commercial. It is paying more than twice the amount of money I made during the entirety of a certain year that I was doing nothing but freelance art (based on net income, not gross). This, to me, is completely nuts and morally unsound, but at least this will afford me the luxury of dropping the 9-5 habit which in turn will allow me to get back on track with my comic book projects. Tomorrow I am looking at co-renting a studio at Kingsway and Broadway.

I can now hang around sick people.

The weird thing is, though I was making more money per hour than I ever have before – dramatically so — I was way more nervous dropping in on Best unannounced at her work (a first) than I was about the acting job.

I'm A Stunted Half-Human

No disrespect meant in any way at all.

Birth and death – why don’t they move me like they do others?

When someone dies – and I’m thinking of someone in the public eye, not your grandpa – people like to talk about it and reflect. Myself, I think, oh that’s too bad that Gary Gygax isn’t going to be a part of the gaming community, but I don’t feel bad in the least. If anything, any sense of loss that I have comes from the fact that the person who has died will no longer be contributing to my quality of life. I felt that way when Edward Gorey died because I knew there’d be no more Edward Gorey books, and I will feel that way when Alan Arkin dies because I really enjoy watching him act. How selfish is that? It may have something to do with the fact that I personally have never experienced the death of anyone close to me. All relatives and friends with whom I had even a halfway decent conversation with are still alive as far as I know. Maybe that’s part of the reason I approach death from a cold, clinical perspective: it’s a natural and necessary part of life – millions of people die every day and if they didn’t Earth would be a living hell.

On to Part 2 of How To Lose Friends and Alienate People – Thank Gawd You’re Raising Kids So I Don’t Have To:

There is a real stigma about not being a fan of babies, despite the fact that a good number of people I know fall squarely within that group. I date women who don’t want children. I have a (childless) friend who had a vasectomy and whenever he and his wife show up to baby showers people are outraged. It puts me (or if I may be presumptuous, us) in a difficult position because as the years go by, more and more friends are having babies, and clearly this is extremely important to them. I want to support them; I want my breeder friends to be full of joy and pep and warm fuzzies; I don’t want to be a downer — but I pride myself on being an honest guy, which often means I come across as an asshole. So while I am happy for their happiness, it’s not important for me to see the baby, or hold the baby, or talk about the baby. I don’t know what the proper questions and answers are. I am a cat owner, and that’s as far as I go. I have never had a baby and I never will have a baby. I feel the same way about cars, except that I have actually owned a few cars in my life. But I don’t know anything about them and they are not important to me. I am part of a group of arrested demi-humans who are not fulfilling their biological and evolutionary function and I am more than okay with that. I guess what I’m saying is: my friends, please do have as many kids as you like – you will be as excellent parents as you are excellent people (you are my friends, after all); but I will never be a parent, and I ask that you have low expectations of me outside of my limited purview. You have friends who will fawn and gush over your baby; I’ll be here when you need a break from that.

Don’t mistake this post for a rant. I’m not lambasting anyone for not being as blase about death and babies as I am. My attitude is not more cool or correct. I’m just trying to do what I always do – express my innermost feelings to a large group of people through a computer.

Hopefully the next blog post will be a treatise on how terrible my tact is.

Addendum: I thought of someone I may actually be sad for when he dies: David Attenborough. We’ll see (if I don’t die first).

I'm A Good Consumer

Yesterday Deanna and I trucked out to Coquitlame to visit the wonderful world of Ikea. I feel so dirty! I already had some Ikea furniture but they were all Stewie’s hand-me-downs. Until about a month ago I had never been to an Ikea since I was a child. When Kolja and I drove down to Seattle to pitch our comic to Wizards of the Coast, we had breakfast at the Ikea nearby. Yesterday we picked up a new bed for me and also wall-mounted shelves, which we spent last night putting together (partially, anyway). So now I can no longer say that I’ve never shopped at Ikea. I keep washing but the dirt doesn’t come off.

Moved!

I am now currently unpacking and setting up my room. At the moment I don’t have a bed (there will be a trip to Ikea on Monday, unless something else {craigslisty} comes up), and I can’t fit both my entertainment section (i.e. TV) and my drawing table in the room with everything else. Problems problems problems that only money can solve.

Kodos seems to be weathering this move much better than the last one. Last time when he arrived at the house he found a dark corner and stayed there for hours and hours, this time he was less whiny and more apt to wander about and sniff things. I am keeping him sequestered in my room (which unfortunately means it already smells like cat litter in here) for an indeterminate transition period – I think at the moment each of the two cats here don’t know the other exists. Stephane helped me take Kodos to the vet which was a traumatizing affair – more so the car ride in a tiny cat carrier than getting poked in the back with a couple of needles.

I am enjoying the options in the new ‘hood; walking distance of Topanga’s Mexican restaurant (good nachos), an Indian restaurant, and the Naam for those times at 3am when nothing but fries with miso gravy and a fruity crumble with ice cream will do. There’s also a ton of places five short blocks up to Broadway. And I’m dangerously close to a Dairy Queen. Gord help me.

I will say that it’s weird being in a place with carpet after 12 years without.

I found out today that I got a very prominent voice acting gig that will be happening some time in the first two weeks of March. So if you have a cold stay away from me.

Fear and Surprise and Ruthless Efficiency

A woman from Dawson’s Creek came into the showroom today and remarked on how there’s no WalMart here. I had to hold my venom in check as she described how the WalMart is the social nexus for the town. She didn’t use the words ‘social nexus,’ mind you.

One good thing about working on my own is that I can listen to the CBC whenever I want, which dovetails nicely into my Get-Your-Head-Out-Of-Your-Ass Initiative. Now I know about the carbon tax and have been keeping apprised on their rather dull coverage of property crimes in Vancouver, which is apparently three times as bad as NY, if statistics are to be trusted (they are not). I was tempted to write in to add:

“One step you can take to avoid property crime is to be very careful about buying used. Never buy from pawn shops and if you buy used from a stranger (like on Craigslist) ask where the item came from and why it’s being sold.”

But after spending 5 minutes trying to figure out how to get it to them through their unnavigable website I gave up. There was a lot of talk about keeping alert and owning a dog and whatnot, and precious little about mitigating the cause of theft, which in my opinion is best done through education, social programs and legalizing drugs. And also plenty of beatings all round.

Have you heard about the “devil frog?” I quote:

Scientists on Monday announced the discovery in northwestern Madagascar of a bulky amphibian dubbed the “devil frog” that lived 65 million to 70 million years ago…larger than any frog living today and may be the biggest frog ever to have existed. Its name, Beelzebufo ampinga, came from Beelzebub, the Greek for devil, and bufo — Latin for toad. Ampinga means “shield,” named for an armor-like part of its anatomy….Beelzebufo was 16 inches long and weighed an estimated 10 pounds.

In the “Gee, No Shit” department, “Major world commercial fish stocks could collapse within decades as global warming compounds damage from pollution and overfishing, U.N. officials said Friday.” SO HURRY UP AND EAT THOSE FISH WHILE YOU CAN!!