Rig For Silent Running

More fucking tests.

More assess- ments. More tests. I spend the day either answering questions on a computer, or answering questions on forms and booklets. I'm constantly emptying my brain today, melting it down like soap in a shower. I am working hard, for reasons unknown. Why am I doing this???

The night before, I am working. I am answering emails, and one pops in from Igor to call him. I look at it and sigh tiredly. How in the world did I get this man as a desperate friend? Is it because of my good nature that I don't just turn on him, one afternoon when he comes running down the block, shouting my name, and scream at the top of my lungs in his face, pulling my hair.

Stupid me, I see him on IM. I've set my IM to appear invisible to him permanently just to keep him from bothering me. I pop in a message to him....Igor, what? I wanted to write: Igor, what the fuck? He replies in his poor writing skills: 'Kall mi on Skype'. Oh no fucking way! Sorry Igor, Skype is for MY MOTHER. 'Ar yu home?' Yeah. 'Kan I com up?' No. 'Kan yu com dwn?' No. I don't know why I was moved to do so but I tell him not tonight, but maybe tomorrow around 8pm. Before I can type: If I feel up to it, he writes 'okay cee yu then!' And disconnects.

Typical force play. I love people that do that. They don't want to hear anything that qualifies your offers, they just hang up the phone, walk off, disconnect their IM...it's an old trick. Older than Judas in the presence of the Christ. Christ held up a goblet of wine and said to everyone: Take this in symbol...and Judas was out the door: "See ya later JC!!" Force play.

What do you do at times like this? You DON'T FUCKING SHOW to let people learn two things: 1) that they can't FORCE you to do something just because they don't want to hear it and 2) they should wait for extemporaneous information. In any event, I ain't going to his crib. I'm going to run silent, run deep. A submarine tactic that I employ from time to time. I just turn off all lights, put my headsets on and remain silent when they come and ring the doorbell. Knowing Igor, he'll probably put his ear to the door first, but I'm pretty confident that the soft clicks of my keyboard can not be heard through it, and if it could, he'd probably mistaken it for a caterpillar drive.

After a day at WESCARE I'm tired and ornery. There is nothing more aggravating than dealing with them motherfuckers. Everything is by the clock and by the classroom. Our instructor stands and says: "Everyone, we'll be in this room until 11:00am when we'll move over to room 4A" He gesticulates with his hands, pointing off. "From there, we will stay until lunchtime at 12:30 where we'll --" A woman walks in late. He points to the door, announcing to her, "Sign in is in room 413." Then he returns to the rest of us "-- take an hour break until 1:30pm, where we'll meet in room 4L until 3:00pm." He has a rotund Black woman as a sidekick. She looks like a bowling ball cinched at the waist and she thinks she's funny. "Don't make me cut cha," she says to everything. "Have you finished your exam yet. Well hurry up! Don't make me cut cha!"

I sign out at the end of the day. She looks up at me and before she tells me I say to her: I go to room 413 for my metrocard, and I'll meet you at room 4G in the morning. She is surprised that I can remember after hearing her repeat it to the five other morons before me. "Oh, you're doing my job now," she smiles, eyes wide. "Don't make me cut cha!" Yeah.

I make it home. I'm tired. And now in a few hours I have to go to Igor's room? I get to the elevator and on the door there is a sign by the super stating that the floors on my floor has been stripped prior to waxing and to be careful. That's great. I wait forever for the elevator as it stops on every floor from the top to the bottom. The elevator door opens and two maintenance guys are standing inside with garbage piled high in huge black garbage bags. "Going down," one calls out to all of us now gathered before the elevator, waiting for it to take us up. Instead they have it under manual control and are taking it down to the basement.

The Main- tenance guy speaking, I think I'll name his ass Nacho. He thinks that the elevator belongs to him just because he has a manual key to it. Every time he's doing something, whether it's cleaning the floors or tossing trash, he has to take the elevator off automatic and use it to his heart's desire. Now we have to wait until Nacho finishes and sends the elevator back up and into service.

I ride the elevator up and sure enough, the floors have been stripped bare, dull. I walk and open my door and low and behold there is a fucking puddle of floor wax pooling in the middle of my room, leaking from under the door. Fuck. I take a towel and soak it all up, then park the towel under the door for tomorrow when this ass finishes polishing the floor.

Finally, I am home. Just before getting in, I bought two new pairs of slacks. Very nice. I think I may get some more for the hobo price that I got them for.

I make dinner. I sit down. I rig ship for silent running.

Hobobob