“Now’s the perfect time. We’ve figured out the other clues, we just have to follow through on them. But they don’t have the first clue where the third clue leads, and we do. So we do the hard part first and then wipe the table with them while they’re still trying to work their way through the first two.”
I’m pretty sure I looked at Don like he had three heads, but he kept talking.
“Seriously, it’s not my fault that the organizers didn’t realize that I spent so much time looking up the history of the buildings in this area, and gave us the one clue that no one should understand, but I do. There’s only one problem…” He trailed off as he gestured towards his wheelchair.
“Problem? Oh there’s no problem. Because in 1927 there was no such thing as the ADA, so the damn tunnel isn’t accessable. So yeah, I get to go down the stairs, into the dark tunnel. No problem, I’m only mildly phobic of dark places and being buried alive. And then I get to take a frickin’ selfie with some who-knows-what I find down there, because you know there’s going to be spiders and shit, and I’m only slightly less phobic of those, and just climb back up! No problem!”
“I’m not trying to be a dick, man, but I can’t, and you can, and there’s a lot of money on the line.”
I’d like to say I sighed, but I’m sure it came out more like a sob.
“I know. I know we both really need that money. I do. But…”
“You’ve got your phone. I’ll talk to you the whole time. I know right where everything is, and I’ll keep you company.”
“I still don’t understand why we have to start at this end. We know where it comes out and you just know they’re going to put whatever I have to selfie with on the complete other end of the tunnel.”
“Because the other end is at Jeff, which is locked up for the night, and the tunnel is chained closed, so even if we had a key we couldn’t get in, because they rules say no destruction of property, and we’d have to cut off the chain because no one knows where the key is anymore. So it’s this end or nothing.”
I followed him down the sloped walkway between the seats. It was dark enough in here, even with the ghost light on stage, that I was starting to get nervous, a tunnel… the thought had me start shaking. And then I stared at the gaping hole in the floor.
“It’s in the Orchestra Pit?”
Don laughed. “Nah, this is just the easiest way to get to it.”
He took my phone out of my hand and turned on flashlight mode, while I pulled my earbuds out of my pocket and tried to find the ends. Taking the wires out of my hand, he untangled them in a flash, plugged them in, and dialed himself. I popped one the buds in my ear and looked into the pit, taking deep breaths to keep from hyperventilating.
“Seriously man, I’ll talk to you the whole time. I promise. You can do this. Now, in the orchestra pit there’s a hidden door on the front edge of center stage. Press at the left side and it should just pop open.”
I slid off the edge of the floor and into the pit, shining my light on the wood front of the stage. I didn’t see anything until I got closer. I turned around to check that Don was still there, and he smiled and waved me back towards the stage. As I swung around, there light caught something just right and there was a shadow. I reached out my left hand to push the edge, but nothing happened.
“Don, it’s not budging.”
“Are you pressing the left side?”
“It’s not that dark in here asswipe. You can see which side I’m pressing. This is clearly my left hand.” I turned around and held it up to my forehead to show him what a loser he was.
“Wrong hand, doofus. When you hold that one up it looks like an L to you, not to me.”
“Wait a minute, did the notes you found say left side, or stage left side?”
“What the eff is stage left…..” he trailed off as I reached out and pressed with my right hand and the door popped open.
I lifted my right hand to my forehead this time with a big grin. “It’s the left for looo-hoo-sa-hers!”
I felt so good about figuring something out before Don had that I spun back and crawled in the crawlspace before I could think about how dark it was. It must have stunned Don too, because I was about five feet under the stage before he remembered that he had to tell me where to go.
“About the center of the stage, there will be a wall that looks like it blocks off the whole width. It doesn’t. Go to the left, and there will be a door. I think this one has a knob on it.”
“You’re a knob.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Are you sure they meant left, or was it stage left?”
“Shit man, I don’t know. I didn’t even know there was such a thing as stage left. Like seriously? The directions on the stage are different than the ones in normal life?”
I crawled to the left searching past forgotten band instruments and stacks of sheet music.
“No, the directions are the same, left is left and right is right, but you have to remember that the actors on stage spend 99% of their time looking at the audience, so what’s left to the actors looks like ‘right’ to us.”
I bumped into another wall. “Yeah, it’s stage left. I just hit a full stop going left.”
“Sorry man, I didn’t know. Why do they even call it stage left? It’s just ‘left’ to the actors, right?”
I crawled back the other way. “I dunno. Maybe to make themselves feel special? Or… wait. You’re sitting in the audience, right? Directing me? Well where does a director sit to run the play? He’s the one that’s gonna be looking at the stage directions telling them where to go, right? So maybe they write ‘stage left’ so that the director knows it’s really ‘right’.”
I found a knob and turned it. “I’m in.”
“You doing okay?”
“Shit man, I’m doing fine, you’re the one that doesn’t know shit about stage directions.”
“Okay, well, once you’re through that door you should be able to stand up. If you walk straight ahead, there’s a manual elevator about 10 feet back. See it?”
I crawled through the door and screamed.
“What? What?” Don screamed into my ear buds.
“Fucking spider web. Goddamit I hate spiders. I’m outta here, like, right now!”
“Man, fifty grand. I swear, I will buy you the biggest baddest flamethrower to kills spiders with, when we get it, but right now, you’ve got to go to that elevator.”
I shook for a while, while Don talked to me, reminding me of all the things we wanted to do with that money. The flamethrower made me think of the lighter in my pocket.
Burning off the spider webs felt really, really good.
"You can shut up now. I think I've got this. Doesn't mean you don't owe me, but I think I'm cool.... oh, and I see the elevator now. You realize it has ropes to move it with? Ropes, dude! I swear, if these things break while I’m using this thing, I will come back and haunt you for the rest of your life.”
I’m pretty sure I looked at Don like he had three heads, but he kept talking.
“Seriously, it’s not my fault that the organizers didn’t realize that I spent so much time looking up the history of the buildings in this area, and gave us the one clue that no one should understand, but I do. There’s only one problem…” He trailed off as he gestured towards his wheelchair.
“Problem? Oh there’s no problem. Because in 1927 there was no such thing as the ADA, so the damn tunnel isn’t accessable. So yeah, I get to go down the stairs, into the dark tunnel. No problem, I’m only mildly phobic of dark places and being buried alive. And then I get to take a frickin’ selfie with some who-knows-what I find down there, because you know there’s going to be spiders and shit, and I’m only slightly less phobic of those, and just climb back up! No problem!”
“I’m not trying to be a dick, man, but I can’t, and you can, and there’s a lot of money on the line.”
I’d like to say I sighed, but I’m sure it came out more like a sob.
“I know. I know we both really need that money. I do. But…”
“You’ve got your phone. I’ll talk to you the whole time. I know right where everything is, and I’ll keep you company.”
“I still don’t understand why we have to start at this end. We know where it comes out and you just know they’re going to put whatever I have to selfie with on the complete other end of the tunnel.”
“Because the other end is at Jeff, which is locked up for the night, and the tunnel is chained closed, so even if we had a key we couldn’t get in, because they rules say no destruction of property, and we’d have to cut off the chain because no one knows where the key is anymore. So it’s this end or nothing.”
I followed him down the sloped walkway between the seats. It was dark enough in here, even with the ghost light on stage, that I was starting to get nervous, a tunnel… the thought had me start shaking. And then I stared at the gaping hole in the floor.
“It’s in the Orchestra Pit?”
Don laughed. “Nah, this is just the easiest way to get to it.”
He took my phone out of my hand and turned on flashlight mode, while I pulled my earbuds out of my pocket and tried to find the ends. Taking the wires out of my hand, he untangled them in a flash, plugged them in, and dialed himself. I popped one the buds in my ear and looked into the pit, taking deep breaths to keep from hyperventilating.
“Seriously man, I’ll talk to you the whole time. I promise. You can do this. Now, in the orchestra pit there’s a hidden door on the front edge of center stage. Press at the left side and it should just pop open.”
I slid off the edge of the floor and into the pit, shining my light on the wood front of the stage. I didn’t see anything until I got closer. I turned around to check that Don was still there, and he smiled and waved me back towards the stage. As I swung around, there light caught something just right and there was a shadow. I reached out my left hand to push the edge, but nothing happened.
“Don, it’s not budging.”
“Are you pressing the left side?”
“It’s not that dark in here asswipe. You can see which side I’m pressing. This is clearly my left hand.” I turned around and held it up to my forehead to show him what a loser he was.
“Wrong hand, doofus. When you hold that one up it looks like an L to you, not to me.”
“Wait a minute, did the notes you found say left side, or stage left side?”
“What the eff is stage left…..” he trailed off as I reached out and pressed with my right hand and the door popped open.
I lifted my right hand to my forehead this time with a big grin. “It’s the left for looo-hoo-sa-hers!”
I felt so good about figuring something out before Don had that I spun back and crawled in the crawlspace before I could think about how dark it was. It must have stunned Don too, because I was about five feet under the stage before he remembered that he had to tell me where to go.
“About the center of the stage, there will be a wall that looks like it blocks off the whole width. It doesn’t. Go to the left, and there will be a door. I think this one has a knob on it.”
“You’re a knob.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Are you sure they meant left, or was it stage left?”
“Shit man, I don’t know. I didn’t even know there was such a thing as stage left. Like seriously? The directions on the stage are different than the ones in normal life?”
I crawled to the left searching past forgotten band instruments and stacks of sheet music.
“No, the directions are the same, left is left and right is right, but you have to remember that the actors on stage spend 99% of their time looking at the audience, so what’s left to the actors looks like ‘right’ to us.”
I bumped into another wall. “Yeah, it’s stage left. I just hit a full stop going left.”
“Sorry man, I didn’t know. Why do they even call it stage left? It’s just ‘left’ to the actors, right?”
I crawled back the other way. “I dunno. Maybe to make themselves feel special? Or… wait. You’re sitting in the audience, right? Directing me? Well where does a director sit to run the play? He’s the one that’s gonna be looking at the stage directions telling them where to go, right? So maybe they write ‘stage left’ so that the director knows it’s really ‘right’.”
I found a knob and turned it. “I’m in.”
“You doing okay?”
“Shit man, I’m doing fine, you’re the one that doesn’t know shit about stage directions.”
“Okay, well, once you’re through that door you should be able to stand up. If you walk straight ahead, there’s a manual elevator about 10 feet back. See it?”
I crawled through the door and screamed.
“What? What?” Don screamed into my ear buds.
“Fucking spider web. Goddamit I hate spiders. I’m outta here, like, right now!”
“Man, fifty grand. I swear, I will buy you the biggest baddest flamethrower to kills spiders with, when we get it, but right now, you’ve got to go to that elevator.”
I shook for a while, while Don talked to me, reminding me of all the things we wanted to do with that money. The flamethrower made me think of the lighter in my pocket.
Burning off the spider webs felt really, really good.
"You can shut up now. I think I've got this. Doesn't mean you don't owe me, but I think I'm cool.... oh, and I see the elevator now. You realize it has ropes to move it with? Ropes, dude! I swear, if these things break while I’m using this thing, I will come back and haunt you for the rest of your life.”
I am a social liberal. This week's election results really had me sitting back and looking at why I was so upset with the results. Then someone posted on FB that the response to Trump's election proves that liberals/democrats are the more intolerant and I realized that my upset was actually fear. So I chose to respond to that person. The OP chose not to read my "copy and paste" response that I crafted specifically for him. I make no apologies for who I am. The people in the response below, I can name one (or more) names for each fear I listed. These are real people, they are my friends and chosen family. I cannot tell you more about myself than by telling you about them.
What you’re seeing is not that liberals are more “intolerant” than conservatives. What you’re seeing is that “liberals” are scared. They are scared as hell, and not sure where to turn. Most social liberals are that way because they, or someone they love, have something to lose if the religious right wins.
They are scared that they have just found the love of their life and will not be able to marry that person, because they happen to be of the same sex.
They are afraid that the child that they have just found and welcomed into their family via adoption will be taken from them, that they will be labeled as bad parents or told they can’t be parents at all no matter how good they actually are at parenting, because they are LGBTQ.
They are afraid that their child would be taken from them if they try to divorce an abusive spouse if it became known that they were LGBTQ.
Alternatively, they are afraid of being forced to stay in an abusive marriage because they’re just a woman and their claims of abuse are dismissed until their spouse finally kills them, or they kill themselves because they can no longer tolerate it.
They are scared that they won’t be able to get the Eagle award they’ve earned in Boy Scouts – or will have it stripped - because they are LGBTQ.
They are afraid that if they come out of the closet, they could be sent to a camp where people will “pray away the gay” or go through conversion therapy – which has been scientifically proven to do nothing but cause mental illness and PTSD.
They are afraid that they will not be able to see their loved one, or have a say in their medical care, or even be there for the end of their life, because they are the same sex.
They are afraid that even though they are intelligent and educated, they will be told what they can and cannot do with their bodies – usually by unintelligent, uneducated people who don’t even understand how their body works.
They are afraid that if they get breast cancer, they will die because they are poor and won’t be able to get free or reduced cost screenings so once they catch it, it will be too late.
They are afraid that if they take their differently-abled child out in public, that the child will be spit upon or mocked or even attacked.
They are afraid that their SSI disabilities will be cut and their differently-abled adult child will be left with no way to be cared for when they are gone.
They are afraid of being told to withhold care from their newborn because “they’ll just be a crip/retard/drain on society anyway”. (But not to terminate a pregnancy, even if the child will be in extreme pain all of their very short life, because abortion is against the law.)
They are afraid to take their female child (or themselves, for that matter) out in public without a male along, because some other male could just decide to grab them by the pussy or the breasts and they wouldn’t be able to do anything about it because it’s the accepted norm, and the police would just tell them to “suck it up, it’s a compliment”.
They are afraid to go out in public without a male along because they might be raped and, if they report it, they will get blamed for being in the wrong place or wearing the wrong thing.
They are afraid that their opinions will be openly mocked and dismissed because of their gender or their “time of the month”.
They are afraid that they could be hanged from a tree or dragged behind a truck just because of their skin color, or their profession.
They are afraid of losing their lives, their homes, their possessions, and deported – because someone decided that they believed in the “wrong God” or came from the “wrong country” or just had a single grandparent who immigrated here instead of being born here.
They are afraid of living in an internment camp because of their genetic makeup, or because of what God they believe in.
They are afraid of never seeing their family again because they’re here legally, but their family is on the other side of a wall.
They are afraid of being spit on, punched, or having a religious garment ripped off of them and told to hang themselves with it – simply because they follow their religious belief of modesty.
They are afraid of death threats.
They are afraid of living in fear.
They are afraid of living as second class citizens.
These are all people I know and love. They, AND I, have something to lose with every election – however, this election is so very different because all of the above things are things espoused by the president-elect and/or his vice-president-elect and/or some of their supporters. We have already seen the first wave of people being treated poorly because “That’s how things are now that Trump’s president” and he hasn’t even been sworn in yet! This is why you are seeing demonstrations. This is why people are “unfriending” others who voted for Trump – because this is what they see that person as supporting with their vote.
They are not intolerant.
They are scared as hell!
What you’re seeing is not that liberals are more “intolerant” than conservatives. What you’re seeing is that “liberals” are scared. They are scared as hell, and not sure where to turn. Most social liberals are that way because they, or someone they love, have something to lose if the religious right wins.
They are scared that they have just found the love of their life and will not be able to marry that person, because they happen to be of the same sex.
They are afraid that the child that they have just found and welcomed into their family via adoption will be taken from them, that they will be labeled as bad parents or told they can’t be parents at all no matter how good they actually are at parenting, because they are LGBTQ.
They are afraid that their child would be taken from them if they try to divorce an abusive spouse if it became known that they were LGBTQ.
Alternatively, they are afraid of being forced to stay in an abusive marriage because they’re just a woman and their claims of abuse are dismissed until their spouse finally kills them, or they kill themselves because they can no longer tolerate it.
They are scared that they won’t be able to get the Eagle award they’ve earned in Boy Scouts – or will have it stripped - because they are LGBTQ.
They are afraid that if they come out of the closet, they could be sent to a camp where people will “pray away the gay” or go through conversion therapy – which has been scientifically proven to do nothing but cause mental illness and PTSD.
They are afraid that they will not be able to see their loved one, or have a say in their medical care, or even be there for the end of their life, because they are the same sex.
They are afraid that even though they are intelligent and educated, they will be told what they can and cannot do with their bodies – usually by unintelligent, uneducated people who don’t even understand how their body works.
They are afraid that if they get breast cancer, they will die because they are poor and won’t be able to get free or reduced cost screenings so once they catch it, it will be too late.
They are afraid that if they take their differently-abled child out in public, that the child will be spit upon or mocked or even attacked.
They are afraid that their SSI disabilities will be cut and their differently-abled adult child will be left with no way to be cared for when they are gone.
They are afraid of being told to withhold care from their newborn because “they’ll just be a crip/retard/drain on society anyway”. (But not to terminate a pregnancy, even if the child will be in extreme pain all of their very short life, because abortion is against the law.)
They are afraid to take their female child (or themselves, for that matter) out in public without a male along, because some other male could just decide to grab them by the pussy or the breasts and they wouldn’t be able to do anything about it because it’s the accepted norm, and the police would just tell them to “suck it up, it’s a compliment”.
They are afraid to go out in public without a male along because they might be raped and, if they report it, they will get blamed for being in the wrong place or wearing the wrong thing.
They are afraid that their opinions will be openly mocked and dismissed because of their gender or their “time of the month”.
They are afraid that they could be hanged from a tree or dragged behind a truck just because of their skin color, or their profession.
They are afraid of losing their lives, their homes, their possessions, and deported – because someone decided that they believed in the “wrong God” or came from the “wrong country” or just had a single grandparent who immigrated here instead of being born here.
They are afraid of living in an internment camp because of their genetic makeup, or because of what God they believe in.
They are afraid of never seeing their family again because they’re here legally, but their family is on the other side of a wall.
They are afraid of being spit on, punched, or having a religious garment ripped off of them and told to hang themselves with it – simply because they follow their religious belief of modesty.
They are afraid of death threats.
They are afraid of living in fear.
They are afraid of living as second class citizens.
These are all people I know and love. They, AND I, have something to lose with every election – however, this election is so very different because all of the above things are things espoused by the president-elect and/or his vice-president-elect and/or some of their supporters. We have already seen the first wave of people being treated poorly because “That’s how things are now that Trump’s president” and he hasn’t even been sworn in yet! This is why you are seeing demonstrations. This is why people are “unfriending” others who voted for Trump – because this is what they see that person as supporting with their vote.
They are not intolerant.
They are scared as hell!
Almost the one year anniversary of my "im in" post from last time. ;)
For many years (approximately 17), I have counted my blessings that my children have been healthy and intelligent. We’ve had some minor setbacks with regards to attitude, especially once we hit the teenage years, but there’s never once been something with my own children that I have to look at them and say “I just can’t relate. I have no frame of reference.” Up to and including my daughter’s feeling like an outsider and my son’s recent bout with depression, I have been able to say “Yep, been there, done that. I understand.”
I have had that experience with other people’s children. I was trying to tutor a neighbor’s kid in reading. I’m pretty sure she was an undiagnosed dyslexic with mild ADD (attention deficit disorder), and after an hour I was so frustrated that I had to get up and leave the table we were working at. I honestly do not remember a time in my life that I could not read. I’m sure there was one, but I learned to read at an early age and my first recognizable memories are from 5 and 6 years old – well after I learned to read – so I had no frame of reference and even my special education classes didn’t give me much to fall back on to help her. In the end, I told the neighbor to get her tested and get her some specialized help because I just couldn’t do it.
And then I have my new job. I work with a company that serves people who have developmental disabilities. Often they have physical or mental health issues to go along with that, but the primary population is developmental. This is new to me. I spent a year in a middle school behavior disorder classroom, and a year working with juvenile offenders trying to get them back on track and help them find constructive ways to use their free time, but I’ve never worked with adults with developmental issues.
For the most part this job has been amazing. I am using my ink-still-wet Masters in Operations Management. I am using some of the skills I still retain from my Bachelors in Education, and I’m using my people skills which I have honed over my years of volunteering at conventions, working, etc. The people we serve are, for the most part, high functioning and reasonably easy to get along with or redirect. They want to be there. They want to be helpful and serve others and earn money – just like the majority of the rest of the world.
I have two guys I call my smiley guys. JW and SP took some time off over the holidays and I was amazed at how much I missed them when they weren’t there, even after only a month of getting to know them. They’re both always smiling and happy to be be at work. SP prays for me daily, or so he tells me. I’m not Christian, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate all the help I can get. JW, who is hard of hearing, always greets me with a very loud and jolly “HI!” or “Good Morning Laz!” every time I enter the room. Doesn’t matter how many times I enter the room he works in all day, he does it every time. And he’s so willing to help me with anything I need done, all I have to do is ask.
There’s TW who always starts my day off with a hug, and gets upset if I don’t visit their area first thing in the morning so she can. There’s TJ who amuses me with his “you can’t find me” as he pulls his hat down over his face, and his “here comes trouble” when I walk into the room. There’s HW with her silly jokes.
And then there’s SS. SS is developmentally delayed, deaf, has ADHD and does not know his own strength – quite literally. It’s an interesting combination, especially when you sign very slowly, and he gets bored after the first sign of a sentence. He’s a hard worker, but has to have a one-on-one job coach because of the whole “doesn’t know his own strength” thing combined with poor anger management. Honestly, I might have poor anger management too if the world ran at about half of the speed I did, and very few people even tried to communicate with me. I don’t know what it is about this young man that makes me happy all over, but he does. He can walk up to me, grab me by the back of the neck hard enough to possibly leave a bruise, yell in my ear “huh huh huh” loud enough for my ear to ring, and make my day shine bright. It’s his way of showing affection, but something that I would probably punch anyone else for.
These people, I have the greatest love and respect for. They make my day just by walking in each morning happy to be there and eager to work, but they aren’t the only type of clients we have.
There's BS, who we call "Mr. News" because he's always into everyone's business. And not just the other clients. He gets into my business and my staff's business too. Occasionally he gets into people's business enough that it causes issues and sets off behaviors.
There’s SH, who is a one-on-one also due to anger management issues, who pretty much refuses to work no matter what, and thinks it’s absolutely hilarious to drag her job coach out into the cold or the rain and sit there for several hours at a time while she just looks at her phone or smokes. Fortunately it's been too cold outside even for her lately. Unfortunately, that means the other employees want to sit and chat with her instead of doing their work.
There’s MC who is very high functioning but pretty much refuses to work. She gets offered work every half hour all day every day and consistently refuses, usually with an excuse of not feeling well, or sometimes the honest truth “I don’t want to”. Fair enough, except that she sits in the break room all day, when she’s not wandering around outside, which requires her staff to leave the area she’s in charge of and search for her every 30 minutes to offer that work. To top it off, she is situationally incontinent (i.e. she only goes to the bathroom if she feels like it) and my staffer is going over to the other building 2-3 times a day to do laundry so that MC has clean clothes to change into after she’s peed in what she just changed into.
But last week, MC deliberately had a bowel movement in her pants. She sat there for some time, smooshing around in it before telling her staff that she had an issue... and the mess was considerable. There was no reason we could determine other than either she just didn’t feel like getting up from her phone to go to the bathroom, or she thought it would be funny to see her staff’s face. My staffer had to wash those clothes. It was the final straw and the camel is a blubbering, twitching mess on the desert floor. I have no frame of reference for this type of behavior and I cannot even fathom why someone would think that this would be okay in the workplace. It’s not like she doesn’t have the mental capacity. She’s much smarter than she acts. She just did it. And I can’t even.
I have had that experience with other people’s children. I was trying to tutor a neighbor’s kid in reading. I’m pretty sure she was an undiagnosed dyslexic with mild ADD (attention deficit disorder), and after an hour I was so frustrated that I had to get up and leave the table we were working at. I honestly do not remember a time in my life that I could not read. I’m sure there was one, but I learned to read at an early age and my first recognizable memories are from 5 and 6 years old – well after I learned to read – so I had no frame of reference and even my special education classes didn’t give me much to fall back on to help her. In the end, I told the neighbor to get her tested and get her some specialized help because I just couldn’t do it.
And then I have my new job. I work with a company that serves people who have developmental disabilities. Often they have physical or mental health issues to go along with that, but the primary population is developmental. This is new to me. I spent a year in a middle school behavior disorder classroom, and a year working with juvenile offenders trying to get them back on track and help them find constructive ways to use their free time, but I’ve never worked with adults with developmental issues.
For the most part this job has been amazing. I am using my ink-still-wet Masters in Operations Management. I am using some of the skills I still retain from my Bachelors in Education, and I’m using my people skills which I have honed over my years of volunteering at conventions, working, etc. The people we serve are, for the most part, high functioning and reasonably easy to get along with or redirect. They want to be there. They want to be helpful and serve others and earn money – just like the majority of the rest of the world.
I have two guys I call my smiley guys. JW and SP took some time off over the holidays and I was amazed at how much I missed them when they weren’t there, even after only a month of getting to know them. They’re both always smiling and happy to be be at work. SP prays for me daily, or so he tells me. I’m not Christian, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate all the help I can get. JW, who is hard of hearing, always greets me with a very loud and jolly “HI!” or “Good Morning Laz!” every time I enter the room. Doesn’t matter how many times I enter the room he works in all day, he does it every time. And he’s so willing to help me with anything I need done, all I have to do is ask.
There’s TW who always starts my day off with a hug, and gets upset if I don’t visit their area first thing in the morning so she can. There’s TJ who amuses me with his “you can’t find me” as he pulls his hat down over his face, and his “here comes trouble” when I walk into the room. There’s HW with her silly jokes.
And then there’s SS. SS is developmentally delayed, deaf, has ADHD and does not know his own strength – quite literally. It’s an interesting combination, especially when you sign very slowly, and he gets bored after the first sign of a sentence. He’s a hard worker, but has to have a one-on-one job coach because of the whole “doesn’t know his own strength” thing combined with poor anger management. Honestly, I might have poor anger management too if the world ran at about half of the speed I did, and very few people even tried to communicate with me. I don’t know what it is about this young man that makes me happy all over, but he does. He can walk up to me, grab me by the back of the neck hard enough to possibly leave a bruise, yell in my ear “huh huh huh” loud enough for my ear to ring, and make my day shine bright. It’s his way of showing affection, but something that I would probably punch anyone else for.
These people, I have the greatest love and respect for. They make my day just by walking in each morning happy to be there and eager to work, but they aren’t the only type of clients we have.
There's BS, who we call "Mr. News" because he's always into everyone's business. And not just the other clients. He gets into my business and my staff's business too. Occasionally he gets into people's business enough that it causes issues and sets off behaviors.
There’s SH, who is a one-on-one also due to anger management issues, who pretty much refuses to work no matter what, and thinks it’s absolutely hilarious to drag her job coach out into the cold or the rain and sit there for several hours at a time while she just looks at her phone or smokes. Fortunately it's been too cold outside even for her lately. Unfortunately, that means the other employees want to sit and chat with her instead of doing their work.
There’s MC who is very high functioning but pretty much refuses to work. She gets offered work every half hour all day every day and consistently refuses, usually with an excuse of not feeling well, or sometimes the honest truth “I don’t want to”. Fair enough, except that she sits in the break room all day, when she’s not wandering around outside, which requires her staff to leave the area she’s in charge of and search for her every 30 minutes to offer that work. To top it off, she is situationally incontinent (i.e. she only goes to the bathroom if she feels like it) and my staffer is going over to the other building 2-3 times a day to do laundry so that MC has clean clothes to change into after she’s peed in what she just changed into.
But last week, MC deliberately had a bowel movement in her pants. She sat there for some time, smooshing around in it before telling her staff that she had an issue... and the mess was considerable. There was no reason we could determine other than either she just didn’t feel like getting up from her phone to go to the bathroom, or she thought it would be funny to see her staff’s face. My staffer had to wash those clothes. It was the final straw and the camel is a blubbering, twitching mess on the desert floor. I have no frame of reference for this type of behavior and I cannot even fathom why someone would think that this would be okay in the workplace. It’s not like she doesn’t have the mental capacity. She’s much smarter than she acts. She just did it. And I can’t even.
This year has started off with a number of celebrity deaths – both the famous and infamous. Lennie Bluett, Pat Harrington Jr, Frank Armitage, Florence King, Kitty Kallen, Troy Shondell, serial killer Oscar Ray Bolin, Red Simpson, Otis Clay, Nick Caldwell, Angus Scrimm, David Bowie, Michael Galeota, David Margulies, Brian Bedford, Rene Angelil, Dan Hagerty, Natalie Cole, David Bowie, and - always - Alan Rickman. (you can find a much more complete list at Wikipedia)
I have said little on social media about this because, quite honestly, I don't know what to say. However much I may wish to be a wordsmith, sometimes the muse just doesn't want to play and the words don't come. This time, I'm going to attempt to force her hand.
It may be that I’m “of an age” that such things happen, but it seems like we’re losing icons left and right. People whose loss leaves the world a duller place. People who have touched me with their music or acting. People who’ve left a spot on my heart that may fade, but will never completely go away. People whose loss hurts – physically and emotionally hurts.
I’ve cried twice this week. Well, I should clarify, I’ve cried multiple times on two days this week. The loss of a celebrity rarely moves me to tears – a simple “Oh, that’s sad” and move on with my life – but I think the dam broke with Robin Williams death last year. His career has spanned the entirety of my life, and at times shaped my vision of the world, and his loss was one that changed me. Now I see the losses in their entirety and mourn for a world that now has an unfillable void in it. Those damn kids these days… they spend all their time on my lawn and rarely have anything to contribute to society as a whole.
Up and coming actors don’t have to work their way into a leading spot via the chorus anymore. Musicians rarely pay their dues, preferring to win their way to the top on a reality tv show. Society has much less tolerance for doing things the hard way – immediate gratification is the way to go now – and the arts have paled in comparison to the past.
Yes, we have wonderful CGI and other special effects. Yes, we have autotune that can make anyone sound good. But the appreciation for real skill does still exist. Think Pitch Perfect or Glee were hits just because of crude va-jay-jay jokes or soap opera sitcom storylines? I rather doubt it. People appreciate the skill of a well-tuned human voice. Much fuss was made over the BB-8 android in Star Wars: The Force Awakens because it was an actual working robot, not CGI.
And so I remind myself that the last thing out of Pandora’s box was, is, and always will be, hope. So yes, I cried this week for a void in my heart and soul that will never again be filled, but I have hope that future generations will re-discover the virtue of doing things the hard way and, in the process, becoming something wonderful.
I have said little on social media about this because, quite honestly, I don't know what to say. However much I may wish to be a wordsmith, sometimes the muse just doesn't want to play and the words don't come. This time, I'm going to attempt to force her hand.
It may be that I’m “of an age” that such things happen, but it seems like we’re losing icons left and right. People whose loss leaves the world a duller place. People who have touched me with their music or acting. People who’ve left a spot on my heart that may fade, but will never completely go away. People whose loss hurts – physically and emotionally hurts.
I’ve cried twice this week. Well, I should clarify, I’ve cried multiple times on two days this week. The loss of a celebrity rarely moves me to tears – a simple “Oh, that’s sad” and move on with my life – but I think the dam broke with Robin Williams death last year. His career has spanned the entirety of my life, and at times shaped my vision of the world, and his loss was one that changed me. Now I see the losses in their entirety and mourn for a world that now has an unfillable void in it. Those damn kids these days… they spend all their time on my lawn and rarely have anything to contribute to society as a whole.
Up and coming actors don’t have to work their way into a leading spot via the chorus anymore. Musicians rarely pay their dues, preferring to win their way to the top on a reality tv show. Society has much less tolerance for doing things the hard way – immediate gratification is the way to go now – and the arts have paled in comparison to the past.
Yes, we have wonderful CGI and other special effects. Yes, we have autotune that can make anyone sound good. But the appreciation for real skill does still exist. Think Pitch Perfect or Glee were hits just because of crude va-jay-jay jokes or soap opera sitcom storylines? I rather doubt it. People appreciate the skill of a well-tuned human voice. Much fuss was made over the BB-8 android in Star Wars: The Force Awakens because it was an actual working robot, not CGI.
And so I remind myself that the last thing out of Pandora’s box was, is, and always will be, hope. So yes, I cried this week for a void in my heart and soul that will never again be filled, but I have hope that future generations will re-discover the virtue of doing things the hard way and, in the process, becoming something wonderful.
Heinlein is a staple of Science Fiction. One of the Grand Masters, inventor of the waterbed and the waldo, he is sacred. There are a certain number of books – about three – that old hands will toss newbies to give them a feel for Heinlein.
Being one of the gateway books into Heinlein, The Puppet Masters is a War of the Worlds era story about an invasion from Mars and a secret section of the US Government that mobilizes to fight the scourge from the skies. Think Men in Black, only in hats. It’s a fun romp with a clear sci-fi edge. In 1994, it was made into a wonderful movie starring Donald Sutherland. Everything about the movie was brilliant – including the screenplay that kept as true to the book as it could while condensing everything into just under 2 hours. Many Heinlein fans will gladly point to that movie and say “This! This is Heinlein!”
Then there’s Stranger in a Strange Land. This book is Heinlein’s major opus about a human child, born on Mars and raised by Martians, coming back ‘home’ and learning what it is to be a human. You laugh, you cry, you’re quite possibly shocked by his choice of which social mores he chooses to follow, and which he does not. Heinlein manages to make fun of the human condition, sex, and religion – and in the process nearly created a religion of water brothers. (Funny side note: at a lunch that was more drunk than chewed, a number of writers proposed that you couldn’t be more successful creating a religion than Heinlein if you tried. L. Ron Hubbard took that bet and thus was Scientology born.) This book will likely never be made into a movie. Too little violence, too much sex, and far too long for a 2 hour movie – possibly even too long for a mini-series. But if you ask most people who’ve never read any Science Fiction at all who Heinlein is…. If they know the name at all, it is associated with this book.
The third of the trio is Heinlein’s Starship Troopers; Heinlein’s ode to the military and space exploration. This action romp of a story is interspersed with harangues about the state of the United States in the post-WWII/Korean conflict era. His characters give pages upon pages of diatribes about military service and why only those who have served should be (and in the book are) the only ones who are full citizens with the right to vote and serve in government positions. Starship Troopers is nothing more than a story used to deliver his opinions, strongly.
For those of us who cut our sci-fi teeth on Heinlein, Starship Troopers is a holy grail of a military/action story. It’s us vs them, the grunts vs the bugs -- humans landing on planets and fighting off the invasion of the giant insect-like “bug-eyed” aliens. Hive mind, they think together and fight together better than our human troops ever can, but it also creates their weakness – a lack of creativity – which humans have in spades because of their individuality. And then there are the drop suits. Oh, the vivid description Heinlein creates in the mind’s eye…. Dropping out of a space ship in high atmosphere with only your suit around you, the shakes you get after you get in your pod and before ejection from the ships drop bays. Powered suits that allow a grunt to see farther, hear better, leap buildings in a single bound and damn near fly. Not to mention drop nukes on a dime or, in this case, ‘a bug’. The envy of all who see them, and also those who read about them. Many an afternoon was spent daydreaming what it would be like to operate one of those drop suits.
Clearly, any movie made based on this book would be something of a disappointment. After all, you can only fit so much into a 2 hour movie, and lots of things would have to be cut. But we fans still had high hopes that Heinlein’s work would be made into something resembling the book we knew and loved. It didn’t.
The grunts vs bugs aspect remained. One diatribe remained, shortened and cut for sensitive ‘liberal’ ears. Citizenship via service remained. Rico’s mom was still smeared by an asteroid the bugs directed at his hometown, but I’m pretty sure dad was too, in the movie. Where in the book, it spurred him to join the military that he had given Johnny shit about joining in the first place. Pilots were still women (something for the conservatives to chew over) because of their better reflexes, but the drop scenes were bitterly disappointing. Shuttles delivered the soldiers to their battlefields instead of dropping in their individual suits. Spandex & plastic armour took the place of that rough and tumble drop suit, modified AK-47’s instead of nukes and conventional bombs. In short, it could have been a bitter, bitter disappointment. And to many it was.
But it wasn’t. See, I knew that going in there was no way that even the ‘liberal’ media in Hollywood could make a movie true to the full nature of that book. So instead of going into the movie expecting a “Green Mile” of Heinlein, I went in looking for a good space opera. And I got it.
There was the love interest – separated by his (Casper Van Dien) inability to do anything more than be infantry, and her (Denise Richards) capacity for piloting. There was the unrequited love (Dina Meyer), requited in the end, just before she bites the dust. There were handsome men, gorgeous women, space scenery and big nasty bugs. There was Patrick Muldoon for eye candy, and Michael Ironside to chew on the scenery. There was NPH looking cute as a bug (pun intended) and typecast as the super smart teen prodigy who breaks the ESPer barrier and finally finds a way to read the bugs minds and save the day. There was nudity (an awesome co-ed shower scene in the barracks) and violence and decent special effects and propaganda and heroics. And redemption in the end when this boy, Rico, became a man and took Rasczak’s place as the leader of the Roughnecks.
So yeah, it was Heinlein-inspired rather than Heinlein-actual. But boy was it a romping good time!
Being one of the gateway books into Heinlein, The Puppet Masters is a War of the Worlds era story about an invasion from Mars and a secret section of the US Government that mobilizes to fight the scourge from the skies. Think Men in Black, only in hats. It’s a fun romp with a clear sci-fi edge. In 1994, it was made into a wonderful movie starring Donald Sutherland. Everything about the movie was brilliant – including the screenplay that kept as true to the book as it could while condensing everything into just under 2 hours. Many Heinlein fans will gladly point to that movie and say “This! This is Heinlein!”
Then there’s Stranger in a Strange Land. This book is Heinlein’s major opus about a human child, born on Mars and raised by Martians, coming back ‘home’ and learning what it is to be a human. You laugh, you cry, you’re quite possibly shocked by his choice of which social mores he chooses to follow, and which he does not. Heinlein manages to make fun of the human condition, sex, and religion – and in the process nearly created a religion of water brothers. (Funny side note: at a lunch that was more drunk than chewed, a number of writers proposed that you couldn’t be more successful creating a religion than Heinlein if you tried. L. Ron Hubbard took that bet and thus was Scientology born.) This book will likely never be made into a movie. Too little violence, too much sex, and far too long for a 2 hour movie – possibly even too long for a mini-series. But if you ask most people who’ve never read any Science Fiction at all who Heinlein is…. If they know the name at all, it is associated with this book.
The third of the trio is Heinlein’s Starship Troopers; Heinlein’s ode to the military and space exploration. This action romp of a story is interspersed with harangues about the state of the United States in the post-WWII/Korean conflict era. His characters give pages upon pages of diatribes about military service and why only those who have served should be (and in the book are) the only ones who are full citizens with the right to vote and serve in government positions. Starship Troopers is nothing more than a story used to deliver his opinions, strongly.
For those of us who cut our sci-fi teeth on Heinlein, Starship Troopers is a holy grail of a military/action story. It’s us vs them, the grunts vs the bugs -- humans landing on planets and fighting off the invasion of the giant insect-like “bug-eyed” aliens. Hive mind, they think together and fight together better than our human troops ever can, but it also creates their weakness – a lack of creativity – which humans have in spades because of their individuality. And then there are the drop suits. Oh, the vivid description Heinlein creates in the mind’s eye…. Dropping out of a space ship in high atmosphere with only your suit around you, the shakes you get after you get in your pod and before ejection from the ships drop bays. Powered suits that allow a grunt to see farther, hear better, leap buildings in a single bound and damn near fly. Not to mention drop nukes on a dime or, in this case, ‘a bug’. The envy of all who see them, and also those who read about them. Many an afternoon was spent daydreaming what it would be like to operate one of those drop suits.
Clearly, any movie made based on this book would be something of a disappointment. After all, you can only fit so much into a 2 hour movie, and lots of things would have to be cut. But we fans still had high hopes that Heinlein’s work would be made into something resembling the book we knew and loved. It didn’t.
The grunts vs bugs aspect remained. One diatribe remained, shortened and cut for sensitive ‘liberal’ ears. Citizenship via service remained. Rico’s mom was still smeared by an asteroid the bugs directed at his hometown, but I’m pretty sure dad was too, in the movie. Where in the book, it spurred him to join the military that he had given Johnny shit about joining in the first place. Pilots were still women (something for the conservatives to chew over) because of their better reflexes, but the drop scenes were bitterly disappointing. Shuttles delivered the soldiers to their battlefields instead of dropping in their individual suits. Spandex & plastic armour took the place of that rough and tumble drop suit, modified AK-47’s instead of nukes and conventional bombs. In short, it could have been a bitter, bitter disappointment. And to many it was.
But it wasn’t. See, I knew that going in there was no way that even the ‘liberal’ media in Hollywood could make a movie true to the full nature of that book. So instead of going into the movie expecting a “Green Mile” of Heinlein, I went in looking for a good space opera. And I got it.
There was the love interest – separated by his (Casper Van Dien) inability to do anything more than be infantry, and her (Denise Richards) capacity for piloting. There was the unrequited love (Dina Meyer), requited in the end, just before she bites the dust. There were handsome men, gorgeous women, space scenery and big nasty bugs. There was Patrick Muldoon for eye candy, and Michael Ironside to chew on the scenery. There was NPH looking cute as a bug (pun intended) and typecast as the super smart teen prodigy who breaks the ESPer barrier and finally finds a way to read the bugs minds and save the day. There was nudity (an awesome co-ed shower scene in the barracks) and violence and decent special effects and propaganda and heroics. And redemption in the end when this boy, Rico, became a man and took Rasczak’s place as the leader of the Roughnecks.
So yeah, it was Heinlein-inspired rather than Heinlein-actual. But boy was it a romping good time!
“The survey teams have been on the ground - and in the water, and in the air – for a good five years now. Nothing in any of the reports has shown anything of concern. They’ve been able to adapt to the environment, and the plants seem to be flourishing. We have a crisis here on Earth and something must be done. Why are we delaying?”
The Secretary General’s face was flushed and, as was his habit during public speeches, he was banging on the table to emphasize his words. The council simply watched and waited until he was done. Once that was clear, all eyes turned to the Minister of Space and Exploration.
“As you stated sir, nothing in any of the reports has shown anything of concern…. yet. Five years is far too little time to explore an entire planet, even with the aid of the bonded animals. After thousands of years of recorded history on our own planet, we’re still discovering new places, new threats in the environment. We must give the exploration groups more time.”
“We haven’t got more time, Jean-Philippe!” The Secretary General pounded on the table once more. “If there’s an unpopulated acre anywhere on this planet, it’s because we couldn’t tame it. Some acres have thousands living en masse above them, we’ve even got cities below ground. Even the underwater cities have been unable to alleviate the population pressure. Luna City can’t take any more. Marsopolis can’t take any more.
“Look son, I understand that you want to give your pet scientists the benefit of the doubt and all the time in the world, but the fact is we don’t have the time. We’re running out of food. The climate change has made it nigh impossible to produce enough food, even with the algae farms working overtime, even with the control we’ve managed to exert on the weather. Water is scarce and getting scarcer, even though we're using grey water for most things and we've got all the desalination plants up and running. Energy is getting harder to come by no matter how many deserts we fill with solar panels. You all know this. You all know that soon food riots will start, water riots will start, energy riots will start.
“The birth restrictions have not solved the problem. Voluntary emigration has not solved the problem. We have to do something. This was the plan we inherited in case all other options were exhausted. And I think we’re there.”
The Minister of Technology spoke up. “Sir, we’re just not sure how the inhabitants will react to start-up.”
“Sanjana, we’ve been over this. The psychologists screened everyone before they moved in. The people’s reaction is not your problem. Your tech folks have cleared all the workers on their skills 10 times over, the people know how to keep it all running, repair it, even jury-rig if something goes wrong. You’ve done all that you can do.”
“Sir, with all due respect, while the workers excel at all things, even jugaad can only take you so far in an unanticipated situation, if you do not have a planet supporting you.”
“Then they’ll have to up their you-gawd game, won’t they? These people aren’t fools. The psychologists picked people for their adaptability and mental stability. You’ve trained them within an inch of their lives. The time is now before those of us left behind cannot recover!”
One last bang on the table and the Secretary General stared at each one of the Ministers in turn. Satisfied that he had made his point, he left the room. The Ministers sat and waited, all of them hoping desperately not to be the one to break the silence.
“He’s right, you know.” The Minister of Space and Exploration sighed as he stood to stare out the window. “Look at all those people, right there. Millions of them within the view from our lofty tower. All of them are hungry. They are thirsty. They are in need.
“As much as I would like to delay to allow the teams to finish their exploration of the planet, we really have no choice. If we wait much longer, we may not have the spare energy for the launches. And even if we can scrape it up, those left behind will not be able to recover. And then we will all die.
“I vote to move ahead with the plan at the earliest possible moment. All in favor?”
Tears rolled silently down Kara’s face as she stared at the screen. She was not alone in her tears. Fully half of the exploration crew was crying as they watched. The vision of thousands of skyscrapers suddenly launching from cities all over the globe was repeated over and over until it was finally replaced by The Minister of Technology’s solemn face. She took a deep breath and held it for a moment before speaking.
“It is in the best interest of humankind that this step has been taken. We regret that you did not have more time to explore, but please do your best to prepare for their arrival. It will not be easy, but by the time they arrive, the shock should have worn off and the inhabitants should have eased into a routine. That said, they will still likely be quite happy to be on solid ground again. That should make the colonization process somewhat easier.
“In your computers, you will find you now have access to data banks 150813 to 221113. This will give you data on all the inhabitants of the skyscrapers turned colony ships, as well as their occupations and skill level. Good Luck.”
Lambert stopped the feed and faced the team. “I know it’s a shock. Sending that many people into space without warning, unprepared. We don’t even know how many will survive the transition without a bonding, let alone without the will to survive.
“The leadership team and I will be sharing information as soon as we access it. I expect all of you to help prepare as best you can. We have a few years to get ready. I just hope it will be enough.
"Dismissed.”
(This story was, in part, inspired by a skyscraper - the Tianjin Chow Tai Fook Binhai Center - under construction in China, its' resemblance to a spaceship, and the current trend to make these buildings into something like self-supporting mini-cities. )
The Secretary General’s face was flushed and, as was his habit during public speeches, he was banging on the table to emphasize his words. The council simply watched and waited until he was done. Once that was clear, all eyes turned to the Minister of Space and Exploration.
“As you stated sir, nothing in any of the reports has shown anything of concern…. yet. Five years is far too little time to explore an entire planet, even with the aid of the bonded animals. After thousands of years of recorded history on our own planet, we’re still discovering new places, new threats in the environment. We must give the exploration groups more time.”
“We haven’t got more time, Jean-Philippe!” The Secretary General pounded on the table once more. “If there’s an unpopulated acre anywhere on this planet, it’s because we couldn’t tame it. Some acres have thousands living en masse above them, we’ve even got cities below ground. Even the underwater cities have been unable to alleviate the population pressure. Luna City can’t take any more. Marsopolis can’t take any more.
“Look son, I understand that you want to give your pet scientists the benefit of the doubt and all the time in the world, but the fact is we don’t have the time. We’re running out of food. The climate change has made it nigh impossible to produce enough food, even with the algae farms working overtime, even with the control we’ve managed to exert on the weather. Water is scarce and getting scarcer, even though we're using grey water for most things and we've got all the desalination plants up and running. Energy is getting harder to come by no matter how many deserts we fill with solar panels. You all know this. You all know that soon food riots will start, water riots will start, energy riots will start.
“The birth restrictions have not solved the problem. Voluntary emigration has not solved the problem. We have to do something. This was the plan we inherited in case all other options were exhausted. And I think we’re there.”
The Minister of Technology spoke up. “Sir, we’re just not sure how the inhabitants will react to start-up.”
“Sanjana, we’ve been over this. The psychologists screened everyone before they moved in. The people’s reaction is not your problem. Your tech folks have cleared all the workers on their skills 10 times over, the people know how to keep it all running, repair it, even jury-rig if something goes wrong. You’ve done all that you can do.”
“Sir, with all due respect, while the workers excel at all things, even jugaad can only take you so far in an unanticipated situation, if you do not have a planet supporting you.”
“Then they’ll have to up their you-gawd game, won’t they? These people aren’t fools. The psychologists picked people for their adaptability and mental stability. You’ve trained them within an inch of their lives. The time is now before those of us left behind cannot recover!”
One last bang on the table and the Secretary General stared at each one of the Ministers in turn. Satisfied that he had made his point, he left the room. The Ministers sat and waited, all of them hoping desperately not to be the one to break the silence.
“He’s right, you know.” The Minister of Space and Exploration sighed as he stood to stare out the window. “Look at all those people, right there. Millions of them within the view from our lofty tower. All of them are hungry. They are thirsty. They are in need.
“As much as I would like to delay to allow the teams to finish their exploration of the planet, we really have no choice. If we wait much longer, we may not have the spare energy for the launches. And even if we can scrape it up, those left behind will not be able to recover. And then we will all die.
“I vote to move ahead with the plan at the earliest possible moment. All in favor?”
Tears rolled silently down Kara’s face as she stared at the screen. She was not alone in her tears. Fully half of the exploration crew was crying as they watched. The vision of thousands of skyscrapers suddenly launching from cities all over the globe was repeated over and over until it was finally replaced by The Minister of Technology’s solemn face. She took a deep breath and held it for a moment before speaking.
“It is in the best interest of humankind that this step has been taken. We regret that you did not have more time to explore, but please do your best to prepare for their arrival. It will not be easy, but by the time they arrive, the shock should have worn off and the inhabitants should have eased into a routine. That said, they will still likely be quite happy to be on solid ground again. That should make the colonization process somewhat easier.
“In your computers, you will find you now have access to data banks 150813 to 221113. This will give you data on all the inhabitants of the skyscrapers turned colony ships, as well as their occupations and skill level. Good Luck.”
Lambert stopped the feed and faced the team. “I know it’s a shock. Sending that many people into space without warning, unprepared. We don’t even know how many will survive the transition without a bonding, let alone without the will to survive.
“The leadership team and I will be sharing information as soon as we access it. I expect all of you to help prepare as best you can. We have a few years to get ready. I just hope it will be enough.
"Dismissed.”
(This story was, in part, inspired by a skyscraper - the Tianjin Chow Tai Fook Binhai Center - under construction in China, its' resemblance to a spaceship, and the current trend to make these buildings into something like self-supporting mini-cities. )
So, I've always been the kind of person who thought that their vocation would be in some type of service.... For years, I had planned to be a teacher. Graduating my Bachelors with less than stellar grades made that nigh impossible, and then I long-term subbed for a year or so. I found out quickly that I loved teaching and the students - but I hated parents so much it made my face burn and administrators made my brain melt. So teaching was out.
I worked for a bank for a while in check processing, and ran a home daycare to allow me to be at home with my kiddos. After that, I worked online for 3-4 years which I loved because it was helping support a website that was my home away from home, but I eventually got bored enough with it to shoot myself in the foot and get fired.
I wasn't able to stay at home with the kids without income, so I signed up at a temp agency. I temped for a couple of weeks and ended up going permanent at the first position I temped in. It was a challenging job, and enough variety to keep me from getting bored. I ended up staying there for 11.5 years. And while the last six months was (literally) vomit-inducing stress the fact was that, even before the stress beast targeted me, I wasn't 100% satisfied there because it was a luxury industry. I was helping millionaires and large corporate entities customize the interiors of their private jets. I hated all the money going into that instead of helping the homeless or displaced veterans or.... etc. I kept myself going by telling myself that my customer service was to help the mechanic whose boss was the heartless millionaire, not the millionaire himself - although that was usually the end effect, of course.
So, hoping to change positions to get away from my (again, literally) vomit-inducing stress monster of a boss, I started working on my Masters. It was 100% free (including books) and I'm not talking about out-of-pocket and be reimbursed, the company actually made arrangements and paid the school directly. It was a suh-weeeeet deal. I got to go to school. They paid for it. I could find my way into a new position once it was completed. I hoped.
Then the company sold our location to T------. Part of the deal was that any management or office worker, who was focused on the C----- account more than about 50% of their time, was laid off before T------ took ownership. The C----- account was about 90% of my job. Stress-monster boss-lady cried as she gave us the news. I happily packed up my boxes, said my good-byes, and danced out the door. I had 12 weeks of pay and 12 weeks of free health insurance in severance - which was a MAJOR big deal when a mammogram showed an anomaly. A friend helped me cover the last $6000 to finish my degree. I finished with flying colors (4.0 GPA) and a thesis that I was told would pass a doctoral program in Scotland. But best of all, I got to spend the spring and summer spending more time with my kids. With them being 14 and 17, it was probably the best timing ever. I got to help teach my son how to drive and go to all of my daughter's track meets.
Finding a new job was not easy. I send out resume after application after resume and could not get any interviews. I kept telling myself it was because I wasn't finished with my degree yet - it had nothing to do with my age or being overqualified. And then I finished my degree in August and STILL couldn't get any interviews. I kept telling the universe that I would wait for the job I needed, but I must admit that I started to get a bit impatient with the universe once my unemployment ran out. I started going to temp/placement companies and putting in with them in addition to applying directly for jobs.
Out of the blue one day, I got a message from my previous supervisor. Not vomit-inducing boss-lady, but the supervisor who had been the buffer between us for the last 2 or 3 months before the lay-off. He'd been laid off too and had just gotten a job himself as Director of Production for K----. He let me know that he had a Production Coordinator position that he would be interviewing for in the next couple of weeks, gave me the link to the job listing, and told me to think about it. I was warned that this was non-profit pay, so it wasn't going to be comparable to our recent luxury industry pay, but as I had no income at all anymore, lower pay was better than no pay.
I read the description. It seemed right up my alley. The catch, besides the lower pay, was that - aside from overseeing the production aides and staff - I would also be overseeing the persons they served. It is a company that provides work (building household and industrial air filters) to those with developmental disabilities and I've always been.... slightly uncomfortable with the differently-abled. Especially those that have physical disabilities in addition to their mental disabilities. (side note: Just admitting that makes me less than comfortable as well. I don't share that with many people.) But it was a job, and it seemed right up my Operations Management alley. It was in a service industry, and I could abide with the lower pay for a while because the supervisory and non-profit experience would be invaluable on a resume. So I applied. And to my shock (and slight dismay), I got an interview. I think I was shocked even more when they offered me the position and I accepted it.
I started just over a week ago and today was my first day actually in my building. Their training process is not short. It is particularly detailed and, quite possibly, designed to weed out the faint of heart. I am now CPR and First Aid certified for the next year, as well as Mandt trained. And that's in addition to covering policies, procedures, paperwork and everything in between. Yesterday afternoon I settled into my new office(*!) and started preparing myself mentally for today.
This morning, my boss introduced me to the staff before the persons served arrived and then left me to my own devices. I had an appointment with one of the IT guys to set up and go over computer and phone policies and procedures, and I was to inventory compressed pleats before the end of the day. That was all the direction I was given. So.... I steeled myself and went to all of the departments introducing myself to the persons served. I'm now the "new building boss lady" because my name is hard for some of them to remember and/or pronounce. For better or for worse, they all seemed to accept me. Some more than others.
One dear soul welcomed me with my first need to break a hold. She held my hand and kissed it over and over again, her grip of steel requiring me to break the hold just so I could use my hand for the rest of the day. She then pulled me into a hug so awkward and tight that I had to break her hold yet again to avoid jaw dislocation. But she was so sweet and loving about it that I smiled through the entire interaction.
This afternoon I was inventorying compressed pleats (ignore that you don't know what that is and just go with it). I think it impressed our persons served that I was working, even after they were done for the day. They talked to me while I counted and were astonished at how quickly I worked. Eventually most of the persons served had gone for the day and it was just myself, Chris (my vocational trainer lead and part of staff so I'm not overly concerned about masking her identity), and T***** - one of our persons served. Chris was giving T***** a hard time about being bad at finding hiding spots so he proceeded to cover his head with his jacket to show her how well he could "hide". She told him he needed to find better spots than that because even " 'boss lady' over there, who's never met you before today? She could find you." He pulled his head out of his jacket, said "nah, she'll never find me", and then covered up again. While they continued their argument, I snuck up behind him, not touching him or anything, but definitely where he couldn't see me unless he turned around. I kept real quiet and waited for him to come out of the jacket. When he did, it was to look over at me and tell me I couldn't find him. He got concerned when I wasn't across the room anymore and he started to look around at Chris. I didn't jump or yell boo, I just smiled. The look on his face when I was there between him and Chris was priceless.
I was called mean, and scary, and ornrey, and I can think of very few things that could have made me happier in that moment.
It may be for a short time - I need to make a living wage because less than the $15/hr that fast food workers are aiming for is, obviously, not a living wage or they wouldn't be agitating for higher pay, right? - and I have a feeling that days to come will be much more challenging, but oh, universe, this was definitely the place I needed to be right now. Thank you.
* - an actual office with floor to ceiling walls, a desk, and a locking door!
Playing LJ Idol while starting a new job after being out of work for 10 months? Why not? LOL
Thank you to roina_arwen!!
This is not an entry, this is a resignation. I give.
My goal this season was to not bye out. I did that – I left kicking and screaming, voted off the island in the middle of an ongoing story. I even survived an intersection week with
agirlnamedluna as my partner. ;)
I wanted to keep going, and if my entry last week had been as good as I thought it was and I had gotten top 5 and back into the main competition, I might have. But in the end, the RL Monster has reared its’ ugly head. I’m over halfway through my masters, and my first deadline for my final thesis/paper/whatever-it’s-called is looming over me like a monster. Scouts has kicked back into gear now that school has started back up and I need to pay it more attention than I have been. I have been working 50-60 hour weeks since the first week of July and have had the stress of an improve-or-be-fired PIP (personal improvement plan) hanging over my head for that same amount of time. A PIP, I might add, that was only supposed to run for a month.
I spent yesterday doing some crafting…. Something that has fallen on the wayside during the months that I’ve been doing Idol this year. And I found I’ve missed it. I want to do more of it. I won’t quit writing, I enjoy it too much, but it will likely be in fits and bursts as the inspiration takes me (like my art does) rather than on a weekly schedule. And besides, I have Kara and Keelie’s story to put in one piece and finish. I can’t leave them hanging! :)
Also, the love of my life (you met a future him as “Joe” in an early entry this season) has, against all sanity, put himself on the line three times this season (re-joining through a special power, and then joining LCI). He joined as a way for us to do something fun ‘together’, though 8000 miles separate us. He kept going even when he got frustrated with the whole thing, just to ‘do’ something with me. We both got what we wanted out of this season, I think – he got kick-started back into writing again, and I proved to myself that I could beat my previous season’s best.
So rather than put in a half-assed mediocre entry, I am bidding you adieu. My heart, and my brain, just aren’t in it enough anymore to make what I write worth writing, or reading.
Gary – you have done wonderful things for many people with LJI. And I hope you’ll continue to do something fun with it in the future. Who knows, maybe I’ll even join in. :)
All the best,
Laz
My goal this season was to not bye out. I did that – I left kicking and screaming, voted off the island in the middle of an ongoing story. I even survived an intersection week with
agirlnamedluna as my partner. ;)I wanted to keep going, and if my entry last week had been as good as I thought it was and I had gotten top 5 and back into the main competition, I might have. But in the end, the RL Monster has reared its’ ugly head. I’m over halfway through my masters, and my first deadline for my final thesis/paper/whatever-it’s-called is looming over me like a monster. Scouts has kicked back into gear now that school has started back up and I need to pay it more attention than I have been. I have been working 50-60 hour weeks since the first week of July and have had the stress of an improve-or-be-fired PIP (personal improvement plan) hanging over my head for that same amount of time. A PIP, I might add, that was only supposed to run for a month.
I spent yesterday doing some crafting…. Something that has fallen on the wayside during the months that I’ve been doing Idol this year. And I found I’ve missed it. I want to do more of it. I won’t quit writing, I enjoy it too much, but it will likely be in fits and bursts as the inspiration takes me (like my art does) rather than on a weekly schedule. And besides, I have Kara and Keelie’s story to put in one piece and finish. I can’t leave them hanging! :)
Also, the love of my life (you met a future him as “Joe” in an early entry this season) has, against all sanity, put himself on the line three times this season (re-joining through a special power, and then joining LCI). He joined as a way for us to do something fun ‘together’, though 8000 miles separate us. He kept going even when he got frustrated with the whole thing, just to ‘do’ something with me. We both got what we wanted out of this season, I think – he got kick-started back into writing again, and I proved to myself that I could beat my previous season’s best.
So rather than put in a half-assed mediocre entry, I am bidding you adieu. My heart, and my brain, just aren’t in it enough anymore to make what I write worth writing, or reading.
Gary – you have done wonderful things for many people with LJI. And I hope you’ll continue to do something fun with it in the future. Who knows, maybe I’ll even join in. :)
All the best,
Laz
