Eventually this will be a blog about movies again - but for now I'd just like to pass on a tale of astounding kindness and generosity. No, I'm not talking about myself. I'm talking about one of my co-workers: Nathan.
Lately I've been throwing good money after bad trying to keep my Jeep looking newish. Last weekend I drove Sissy's Wrangler - I've been through hell and back in that Jeep. Actually, to Quincy California and back but that's close enough - and I happened to notice that the clutch was a little short, so short in fact that it actually kicked back. According to Sissy, there was nothing wrong with it, which isn't exactly what I was saying but Sissy doesn't always exactly listen. According to Bobby, who actually fitted the clutch, that's what a good clutch does. My clutch has never done that, and it was fine until this morning (I think). After a hot and sweaty day at the beach - it was 104 degrees - there I was in my lemon capris, flip-flops, and a skimpy tee shirt with a cutting slogan about the President when I found myself out of eye drops and without a clutch.
I paid the horrendous parking chit and walked back to the Jeep. I unlocked the Jeep and noticed the faint smell of airbag. They smell of gunpowder or latex powder or some other dust, at least that's the first thing I smell after an accident. I didn't think anything of it after quickly noting that a great balloon had not deflated over my steering wheel and put it down to the immense heat inside the Wrangler possibly warming the vinyl accents a little too much. I put the key in the ignition and pushed in the clutch. Immediately I noted to myself that the clutch felt a bit long - a little too long. There was no pressure on the pedal. I had a flashback to Quincy and got out to check if there was a fluid leak. Nope. The answer to the mystery was a little plastic housing that had fallen on the floor of the Jeep as I pushed in the clutch the second time. This little piece of plastic was meant to prevent the clutch cable from separating from the clutch pedal. One would think that the geniuses at Daimler could at least design a decent, cost-effective clasp like those folks at Toyota - but one would be wrong.
I ran around like a chicken with its head cut off for a few minutes, calling the dealership and being told that they wouldn't be able to even look at it until Monday. FTS. I called for a tow, which I later cancelled because of my new best friend Nathan.
[Cue Nathan] I showed up for my first day of work on Monday and spoke to a hunky Indian dude about parking availability. I would later know this dude as Nathan. Note: If I were a chick, I'd give him my number - after today only.
I went outside of Looch's hovel to wait for the tow, which I hadn't cancelled yet and noticed Nathan getting into his Toyota Forerunner. Hmmm, should I? Shouldn't I? What the hell, he drives a 4x4.
Had I not asked Nathan about clutches, I'd be sitting here drinking my Red Stripe, what tastes a bit like Welch's, Jeepless and worried out of my skull. But I did ask. "Oy! Know anyfing about clutches?"
To his credit, he could have been normal and told me to fuck off, but instead he said "Ummm, a little bit". One look under the bonnet and he said that my clutch cable had come loose. Okay, he and I work a slacker's dream job, so I figured we'd leave it at that, smoke a joint and I'd pass the information on to the tow truck driver. No triggers of Wolf Creek here, thankfully.
Instead, he officially introduced himself and rummaged around in the footwell of the Wrangler and re-attached the cable to the pedal, blindly. He told me to poke around a bit which was a mistake because I promptly knocked the cable loose again.
"No problem! We've got zip strips". He shoved his way back into the hovel and came out with some plastic thingies and proceeded to spend the next hour fixing my clutch pedal. Nobody came to check the parking meters so I was happy about that. The best assistance I could muster was to push the interior light sensor closed - which was really hard - so that Nate wasn't staring at a white light bulb the whole time. I cancelled the tow and Nathan got the cable secured to the pedal. Wonderful! He kept apologizing about his sweating, which I figured was a little perspiration and forgivable on account of the temperature - but he wasn't kidding. By the time he was done, he was positively drenched and I felt like a real asshole. I had nothing to give this guy and all he wanted was to make sure that the pedal worked. He told me to take a lap and see how it managed. I've got to take the Jeep into the dealership at the beginning of August and I'll have it looked at properlike at that time, but for now it works perfectly.
When I came back he gave me his hand phone - just in case there was an emergency on the way home - and then went to pick up his dog. I felt like a real piece of shit now. A near-stranger had fixed my clutch, given me his hand phone for the weekend and I've done nothing but keep him from his puppy.
I've got to say it - I was humbled yet again. This beach gig ends at the end of August, and I hate it when people like Nathan disappear into the woodwork. These are the kind of people that should be recognized and retained by employers on a long term basis.
Thank you Nathan.
Friday, July 21, 2006
Sunday, July 16, 2006
The New Job and Good Byes
My new boss is this Italian chick whose name is Lucia, but she prefers to be called Looch. It suits shouting back and forth better. Last Wednesday after a day "working" at the beach, I shlepped into her shack/hovel/office and she said, "Okay Dax. You gotta do something about the trippa".
This is where speaking a hodgepodge of seventeen different languages comes in useful. Sure, I go to Hebrew school for six years but never have I had to use more Hebrew than any goy already could. Street Italian, you can't go to school for that but this I know. Without missing a beat, I pinched my obliques and asked, "This? What's not to like?"
"I'm just sayin', you're promoting a product man, and you're starting to look a little Pillsbury".
Message understood, so I hit the weights and started doing more crunches in the morning. I used that old boxers' trick and toyed with the idea of doing that thing that Chisato does after every meal. I even joined a running group. Pretty informal. Saturday morning meet at the community centre, stretch out and go for a run. Jogging on shabbat? Yes dad, it's not against the Torah per se. Well, I got about three miles into the run, and my right side hip flexors decided to remind me why I stopped running in the first place. I sucked it up and finished the run ahead of everyone else of course. Later that afternoon, my left knee decided to give. Better late than never. So today my legs are a little sore which I can understand. But my elbow? How the hell did that happen? Must have been on Thursday when Ali and I met her mum and sister at Grand Central and then Ali volunteered me to shlep her mother's bags to the hotel. "Oh, and don't forget Chisato's luggage either!"
I don't think I'll be able to make the running group next week - let alone the dancing lessons. Damn you Richard Gere. So last night, barely able to move, I met up with Ali and her family for a farewell dinner. Just like that, they're gone. It was quite a quick visit. Of course, it sucked in the beginning because Alison introduced me to her mum as "my jobless boyfriend", which technically was true because I hadn't told Ali about the t-shirt job yet. They said they wanted Italian for dinner so we went to Zefferelli's and I tried to be on my best behaviour. Like I said, I don't speak Japanese, so I said something half English, half Japanese which, because of Ali's mum's name sounded like I was calling her a fish. I don't know what the fuss was about, I mean she did order sparkling with dinner. Her mum was startled and I saw her hand quickly raise up toward my face at which point Ali sorta jumped between us and said something. Before I knew what was going on, all three ladies were laughing so hard they had to wipe the tears away. I couldn't have planned that icebreaker better if I tried.
Only weeks before, Chisato blew my mind with a bit of an ice breaker of her own. She was thumbing through a sport fishing magazine and said something about fishing lures. I pointed to a picture of trident fish hooks and said, "I like (these) fish hooks". She asked, "Where?" and then laughed her ass off. Eventually, I got it but I haven't been able to look at her the same way since.
I made myself scarce during this visit - partly because I'm a little afraid of Chisato and partly because I want to give Ali maximum time with her mum - only joining for two dinners and carrying luggage from the train station. Last night I showed up at the jewelry shop and Ali looked at me with a look of horror on her face. "You didn't shave!"
"Actually, I did *wink*!"
"Kitanai! Eeeee!" We shlepped around looking for a restaurant only because Chisato had taken her time buying jewelry and the Singaporean restaurant was closing. We decided on Indian. Aware of, but seemingly indifferent to my pain Ali told me to walk faster, "Suck it up, beach boy!" We ended up settling on Persian food only because the place billed itself as "Better than Greek" and it was closer than the Indian place. Well, Chisato was not happy with her food and I don't blame her. I kinda expected as much when Ali's mum said, "Only Japanese rice is any good." Turns out she speaks pretty decent English. We decided to cut our losses and skip dessert. We crossed the street and had gelato instead. We said our good byes, and amid vague promises of seeing them again in December, I limped off into the darkness cursing every step and praying for an Advil at the same time. So if this job doesn't kill me first, I'll be back at the beach tomorrow slightly trimmer, slightly buffer and slightly darker.
This is where speaking a hodgepodge of seventeen different languages comes in useful. Sure, I go to Hebrew school for six years but never have I had to use more Hebrew than any goy already could. Street Italian, you can't go to school for that but this I know. Without missing a beat, I pinched my obliques and asked, "This? What's not to like?"
"I'm just sayin', you're promoting a product man, and you're starting to look a little Pillsbury".
Message understood, so I hit the weights and started doing more crunches in the morning. I used that old boxers' trick and toyed with the idea of doing that thing that Chisato does after every meal. I even joined a running group. Pretty informal. Saturday morning meet at the community centre, stretch out and go for a run. Jogging on shabbat? Yes dad, it's not against the Torah per se. Well, I got about three miles into the run, and my right side hip flexors decided to remind me why I stopped running in the first place. I sucked it up and finished the run ahead of everyone else of course. Later that afternoon, my left knee decided to give. Better late than never. So today my legs are a little sore which I can understand. But my elbow? How the hell did that happen? Must have been on Thursday when Ali and I met her mum and sister at Grand Central and then Ali volunteered me to shlep her mother's bags to the hotel. "Oh, and don't forget Chisato's luggage either!"
I don't think I'll be able to make the running group next week - let alone the dancing lessons. Damn you Richard Gere. So last night, barely able to move, I met up with Ali and her family for a farewell dinner. Just like that, they're gone. It was quite a quick visit. Of course, it sucked in the beginning because Alison introduced me to her mum as "my jobless boyfriend", which technically was true because I hadn't told Ali about the t-shirt job yet. They said they wanted Italian for dinner so we went to Zefferelli's and I tried to be on my best behaviour. Like I said, I don't speak Japanese, so I said something half English, half Japanese which, because of Ali's mum's name sounded like I was calling her a fish. I don't know what the fuss was about, I mean she did order sparkling with dinner. Her mum was startled and I saw her hand quickly raise up toward my face at which point Ali sorta jumped between us and said something. Before I knew what was going on, all three ladies were laughing so hard they had to wipe the tears away. I couldn't have planned that icebreaker better if I tried.
Only weeks before, Chisato blew my mind with a bit of an ice breaker of her own. She was thumbing through a sport fishing magazine and said something about fishing lures. I pointed to a picture of trident fish hooks and said, "I like (these) fish hooks". She asked, "Where?" and then laughed her ass off. Eventually, I got it but I haven't been able to look at her the same way since.
I made myself scarce during this visit - partly because I'm a little afraid of Chisato and partly because I want to give Ali maximum time with her mum - only joining for two dinners and carrying luggage from the train station. Last night I showed up at the jewelry shop and Ali looked at me with a look of horror on her face. "You didn't shave!"
"Actually, I did *wink*!"
"Kitanai! Eeeee!" We shlepped around looking for a restaurant only because Chisato had taken her time buying jewelry and the Singaporean restaurant was closing. We decided on Indian. Aware of, but seemingly indifferent to my pain Ali told me to walk faster, "Suck it up, beach boy!" We ended up settling on Persian food only because the place billed itself as "Better than Greek" and it was closer than the Indian place. Well, Chisato was not happy with her food and I don't blame her. I kinda expected as much when Ali's mum said, "Only Japanese rice is any good." Turns out she speaks pretty decent English. We decided to cut our losses and skip dessert. We crossed the street and had gelato instead. We said our good byes, and amid vague promises of seeing them again in December, I limped off into the darkness cursing every step and praying for an Advil at the same time. So if this job doesn't kill me first, I'll be back at the beach tomorrow slightly trimmer, slightly buffer and slightly darker.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
About Those First Impressions
I can only assume that I was hired at my new job six weeks ago based on a whopping first impression. I can be good at those, remember? I intended for this post to be about the awesome day I had driving a smooth Jeep Commander to and from work, but it didn't turn out that way. Let's just say that the Commander was the best part of the whole Jeep-in-the-shop experience. And it was probably the only thing I had to look forward to after work today because I was sacked.
Sacked sacked sacked.
Apparently, I was not meeting a totally different set of expectations than the ones I was hired to meet. Of course the termination was a bit of a one-sided affair, and the dude didn't care what I had to say about the situation. That's fine - they were scrambling when they hired me and they're scrambling even harder now that I and some long-time staff have left. Good luck Frenchies.
Karma. That's all they need to focus on. It's all good because I've got a job lined up for the rest of the summer street-teaming as a t-shirt model/conveyance. Not a bad gig if you can get it. $600 a week (tax-free) to lounge around high-visibility areas - like the beach - looking good and wearing ill-fitting t-shirts that have stupidly funny slogans on them. It's supposed to make other people want to buy the t-shirt you are wearing, or some such thing and then that way the t-shirt vendor makes stonking piles of money by paying me $600 a week, and I get to work on my tan. Win-win.
Sacked sacked sacked.
Apparently, I was not meeting a totally different set of expectations than the ones I was hired to meet. Of course the termination was a bit of a one-sided affair, and the dude didn't care what I had to say about the situation. That's fine - they were scrambling when they hired me and they're scrambling even harder now that I and some long-time staff have left. Good luck Frenchies.
Karma. That's all they need to focus on. It's all good because I've got a job lined up for the rest of the summer street-teaming as a t-shirt model/conveyance. Not a bad gig if you can get it. $600 a week (tax-free) to lounge around high-visibility areas - like the beach - looking good and wearing ill-fitting t-shirts that have stupidly funny slogans on them. It's supposed to make other people want to buy the t-shirt you are wearing, or some such thing and then that way the t-shirt vendor makes stonking piles of money by paying me $600 a week, and I get to work on my tan. Win-win.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
First Impressions
I'm good at them. I occasionally depend on them. But sometimes they come back to bite me in the ass.
I woke to the musical stylings of The Kooks at full volume in my ears yesterday morning. I shot up as my eyes screamed open only to see Ali giggling at the corner of the bed, holding my iPod.
"Moshi moshi Fatty! Make my breakfast. Vanilla Earl Grey please, and only one piece of toast with jam as usual -- don't forget to cut off the crust", she said with a smile on her face.
"Ummm... yeah", I said vacantly.
"Before your shower!" she reminded me.
"For crying out loud. Juwant milk?"
"No. I have good news! Chisato is coming back to visit and this time Mummy's coming too!"
"Nande? Chisato just left. How can your family...? Oh, yeah... right".
"Chisato told my mum all about you and she gave such a high opinion that mum wants to meet you herself. And since you think Chisato is a princess, that makes my mum the Queen".
My first instinct was to explain the rules of Succession and say, "Not necessarily Dear -- just ask Princess Beatrice", because you can be a princess and still not be the daughter of the Queen. But I let it go because I was more interested in finding my tooth brush.
"Oh, and since Mummy doesn't speak English, I expect you to speak Japanese, okay? Is the kettle on?"
"Hhhhhhhhhhkuso", I mumbled and stumbled my way into the kitchen.
This all would have been fine except that yesterday afternoon the dealership called begging me to bring the Jeep in on Friday rather than Saturday. One problem - I have to work that day and I don't take the bus any more like Enzo doesn't eat pineapple - it would kill me. The service guy was between a rock and a hard place (presumably a place with a telephone) but quickly came up with an answer. Five star service I must say - he offered me his manager's Jeep Commander for the day. Ungrateful little sod that I can be, I asked for something smaller on account of I just had an accident a few weeks ago. We hammered out a deal so that I could take the Commander for the day and nobody's manager would be the wiser. Pretty lucky, ungrateful sod, me. That clears up the weekend for a trip to Oyster Bay to finally use that gift certificate and clears up next week to spend with Chisato and her mum - so it's all good. I actually get along pretty well with most of my girlfriends' mums so I'm not worried except that, well, this is probably different. And I can't speak Japanese - yet.
I woke to the musical stylings of The Kooks at full volume in my ears yesterday morning. I shot up as my eyes screamed open only to see Ali giggling at the corner of the bed, holding my iPod.
"Moshi moshi Fatty! Make my breakfast. Vanilla Earl Grey please, and only one piece of toast with jam as usual -- don't forget to cut off the crust", she said with a smile on her face.
"Ummm... yeah", I said vacantly.
"Before your shower!" she reminded me.
"For crying out loud. Juwant milk?"
"No. I have good news! Chisato is coming back to visit and this time Mummy's coming too!"
"Nande? Chisato just left. How can your family...? Oh, yeah... right".
"Chisato told my mum all about you and she gave such a high opinion that mum wants to meet you herself. And since you think Chisato is a princess, that makes my mum the Queen".
My first instinct was to explain the rules of Succession and say, "Not necessarily Dear -- just ask Princess Beatrice", because you can be a princess and still not be the daughter of the Queen. But I let it go because I was more interested in finding my tooth brush.
"Oh, and since Mummy doesn't speak English, I expect you to speak Japanese, okay? Is the kettle on?"
"Hhhhhhhhhhkuso", I mumbled and stumbled my way into the kitchen.
This all would have been fine except that yesterday afternoon the dealership called begging me to bring the Jeep in on Friday rather than Saturday. One problem - I have to work that day and I don't take the bus any more like Enzo doesn't eat pineapple - it would kill me. The service guy was between a rock and a hard place (presumably a place with a telephone) but quickly came up with an answer. Five star service I must say - he offered me his manager's Jeep Commander for the day. Ungrateful little sod that I can be, I asked for something smaller on account of I just had an accident a few weeks ago. We hammered out a deal so that I could take the Commander for the day and nobody's manager would be the wiser. Pretty lucky, ungrateful sod, me. That clears up the weekend for a trip to Oyster Bay to finally use that gift certificate and clears up next week to spend with Chisato and her mum - so it's all good. I actually get along pretty well with most of my girlfriends' mums so I'm not worried except that, well, this is probably different. And I can't speak Japanese - yet.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
England's Out
I'm feeling better this weekend, now that Baby's back as good as ever. I was woken up this morning with a hard nudge to the ribs. "Pssst. Fatty Fatty Fuckface. I wanna watch Beckham!"
"Huh? Oh, hime. It's you." Seeing as how my bedroom is currently 600 degrees Celsius between the hours of 05:00 and 21:00, I sleep very lightly and Ali can wake me up any time.
"Yes, I'm a hime and I want to see the match. It starts in one hour". I racked my brain trying to think of a place we could watch the match and avoid the Portuguese crowds. The only place I could think of was Ali's old shop, so we drove into Durban and took brunch while we watched the game -- no sound on the telly.
There were a few Portuguese fans in the shop, but they stayed on one side of the room. A few cops came in during the first half, and whaddya know? One of them was the very same cop who jumped in front of my vehicle and ticketed me for going 83km. in a 50km. zone. He stepped in front of my car basically because I was the slowest vehicle in the pack. $138.00 later and I was back on the road. Due to the price of petrol, I decided to take public transit to work for June. Big mistake. 22 working days and I was late 3 times. It didn't take me long to decide to pay for the extra insurance and drive to work. Now that Baby's better, I'll be driving to work from now on. I get bitchy when I have to ride the loser cruiser, and I'm no fun at work for the rest of the day.
The body shop guys "found some stuff" that the estimator missed, so Baby ended up costing more than $6000.00 to repair, but they did some extra stuff for me. They had to replace the left front panel -- so that took care of the numerous dings that my neighbour's rear door left behind, and then as they replaced the right front panel, they blended out the scratch that my other neighbour left in the right door. I think they even tried to touch up the gouge that I left on the rear when I tried to take the hard top off. 2 minutes after I picked Baby up from the shop, I nearly had another accident because some fool turning towards me decided to cut the angle sharp and almost hit me. Bastard.
The football match went to a shootout and as you all know by now Portugal won 3-1. If they hadn't cheated so badly in the match against the Netherlands, I might have cheered for them, but they're dirty this year and don't deserve the Cup. d
A few days ago I had to take a business trip, or more of a fact-finding mission. Best known as the town with the landfill which takes in the excess garbage from the country's third-largest regional district -- I, and five others, drove five painful hours to visit one of the company's sites. I expected the town to stink like garbage, but it was actually odourless. Fucking hot, but no smell. I stayed in JLo's hotel, actually the hotel where the crew and co-stars stayed while filming one of her films. She stayed in a larger town about an hour and a half's drive away.
I learned a lot actually. 5th form chemistry really helped, and its now a pet project of mine to figure out how to better utilize the waste rock, which is too small to process further. Imagine - we're fucking it away. Anyone can come by the quarry and load up their trucks with the stuff. If they need a loader, we charge $25.00 but if they just need a few buckets it's free. I don't care about the price, but I think we could be more efficient.
The town itself, about 30km. from the site is a place I used to go when I was a kid. My mum's boyfriend would sometimes take us to his hometown and this place was halfway along the journey so we'd stop for a meal. I would order French Toast, because hotcakes suck hard. I like it there, and might move there when I get old.
I'm glad to be home, and I'm all kitted out for the 4th of July weekend, only now Ali says she doesn't want to get a tan so I guess I'll be going to the beach alone.
No fun. The only thing left to look forward to this summer is that gift certificate I won, and maybe a couple of baseball games or a show at Cirque du Soleil. The blue and yellow tents are setting up in front of my apartment building. The gift certificate restaurant is way the fuck out on Long Island and is gonna cost me more to use than the value of the prize itself. Merde! Oh well, can't be ahead all the time. C'est la vie.
"Huh? Oh, hime. It's you." Seeing as how my bedroom is currently 600 degrees Celsius between the hours of 05:00 and 21:00, I sleep very lightly and Ali can wake me up any time.
"Yes, I'm a hime and I want to see the match. It starts in one hour". I racked my brain trying to think of a place we could watch the match and avoid the Portuguese crowds. The only place I could think of was Ali's old shop, so we drove into Durban and took brunch while we watched the game -- no sound on the telly.
There were a few Portuguese fans in the shop, but they stayed on one side of the room. A few cops came in during the first half, and whaddya know? One of them was the very same cop who jumped in front of my vehicle and ticketed me for going 83km. in a 50km. zone. He stepped in front of my car basically because I was the slowest vehicle in the pack. $138.00 later and I was back on the road. Due to the price of petrol, I decided to take public transit to work for June. Big mistake. 22 working days and I was late 3 times. It didn't take me long to decide to pay for the extra insurance and drive to work. Now that Baby's better, I'll be driving to work from now on. I get bitchy when I have to ride the loser cruiser, and I'm no fun at work for the rest of the day.
The body shop guys "found some stuff" that the estimator missed, so Baby ended up costing more than $6000.00 to repair, but they did some extra stuff for me. They had to replace the left front panel -- so that took care of the numerous dings that my neighbour's rear door left behind, and then as they replaced the right front panel, they blended out the scratch that my other neighbour left in the right door. I think they even tried to touch up the gouge that I left on the rear when I tried to take the hard top off. 2 minutes after I picked Baby up from the shop, I nearly had another accident because some fool turning towards me decided to cut the angle sharp and almost hit me. Bastard.
The football match went to a shootout and as you all know by now Portugal won 3-1. If they hadn't cheated so badly in the match against the Netherlands, I might have cheered for them, but they're dirty this year and don't deserve the Cup. d
A few days ago I had to take a business trip, or more of a fact-finding mission. Best known as the town with the landfill which takes in the excess garbage from the country's third-largest regional district -- I, and five others, drove five painful hours to visit one of the company's sites. I expected the town to stink like garbage, but it was actually odourless. Fucking hot, but no smell. I stayed in JLo's hotel, actually the hotel where the crew and co-stars stayed while filming one of her films. She stayed in a larger town about an hour and a half's drive away.
I learned a lot actually. 5th form chemistry really helped, and its now a pet project of mine to figure out how to better utilize the waste rock, which is too small to process further. Imagine - we're fucking it away. Anyone can come by the quarry and load up their trucks with the stuff. If they need a loader, we charge $25.00 but if they just need a few buckets it's free. I don't care about the price, but I think we could be more efficient.
The town itself, about 30km. from the site is a place I used to go when I was a kid. My mum's boyfriend would sometimes take us to his hometown and this place was halfway along the journey so we'd stop for a meal. I would order French Toast, because hotcakes suck hard. I like it there, and might move there when I get old.
I'm glad to be home, and I'm all kitted out for the 4th of July weekend, only now Ali says she doesn't want to get a tan so I guess I'll be going to the beach alone.
No fun. The only thing left to look forward to this summer is that gift certificate I won, and maybe a couple of baseball games or a show at Cirque du Soleil. The blue and yellow tents are setting up in front of my apartment building. The gift certificate restaurant is way the fuck out on Long Island and is gonna cost me more to use than the value of the prize itself. Merde! Oh well, can't be ahead all the time. C'est la vie.
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