Wednesday, 10 May 2017

This Ain't No Tickle Trunk

Mostly I intend to blog once a week when I have time, but this week, I have to confess, I'm really struggling. This month, I am on the rotation in which my tasks require me to interact with all the reports and details that expose the inner douchebaggery of our fair municipality's citizenry. Looking at all that selfishness, stupidity and entitlement makes one feel really mucky, and this week, I am weighed down by the utter triviality of my job.

Today, I took a call from a claimant that sounded just like this:

Dink: Hi, I'm submitting a claim...
Me: Uh-huh.

Dink: My car got towed because there was street cleaning and I didn't see the sign.
Me: (silent eyeroll) Uh-huh.

Dink: And the tow truck damaged my car. It damaged my oil pan.
Me: I see.

Dink: So, do you need photos of the oil pan?

Me: No, the bill from your repair shop is sufficient documentation.

Dink: You don't need pictures of the damage?
Me: No.The damage will be noted on your bill.

Dink: Oh. Do you need pictures of the oil on the road?


Christ on a crutch, Dink--if I don't need photos of the actual damage, why the fuck would I want photos of oil blots on the road? Can you not process thought in a linear fashion? Just submit the fucking claim already. Dink.

And yet, he wasn't even the worst burr under my saddle blanket this week. Yesterday, I was doing incident reports from the rec centres and I received three--count 'em!--THREE separate reports from three separate employees about the same incident involving urine on the toilet seat.

It seems a rec centre employee noticed a young (teenaged) male patron pissing on the toilet seat in the men's room. The employee told the patron to clean it up, to which the patron replied with a familiar hand gesture and an invitation to the employee to enjoy sex and travel. Angry words were exchanged, which meant the involvement of two other employees and thus, children, I ended up having to read, save and archive three fucking reports about pee.

Now, on the plus side, it should be noted that *I* personally did not have to deal with either the patron or the piss, but I nevertheless have had one of those weeks in which I have had difficulty finding my work meaningful. Instead of writing a fucking useless incident report about this, I would have summoned Security and had that young pig removed from the facility with a two week ban imposed.

Because natural consequences, people.

Out of nearly forty incident reports, there were about a dozen thefts, mostly reported by people stupid enough to leave their wallets, shoes and phones on the floor of the change room in duffle bags. An elderly couple bitched and whined and felt singled as victims of ageism because the lifeguard on duty asked Ancient Vagina if she was feeling alright, since she had been in the hot tub for half an hour. Yanno, these elderly assholes would be the first ones to moan that there isn't adequate supervision at our facilities if Grandma had had a fainting spell. 

No, only one of those incident reports was of any significance at all. And it was a doozy. A rec centre employee noticed two people in the parking lot next to a vehicle. One of the people was choking the other, and forced the victim into the trunk of the car, and closed the lid. Then the choker allegedly stood around for a few moments until another car pulled up, and two people got out. At this point, the choker opened the trunk and the chokee got out, and was--the report says--not agitated.

Therefore, the rec centre employee chose not to summon the police. Probably not the decision I would have made, but what the hell do I know?

Only that it fills me with the kind of dismay that makes me sag on my spine to share the planet with people this fucking stupid, brutal and ignorant. People who think that it's okay to urinate on a public toilet seat and then verbally assault someone who objects. People who choke other people and put them in the trunks of cars. Douchenozzles who masturbate in saunas and others who take a swing at a woman who wants in the hot tub, but he's too busy massaging his leg on the water jet to move out of her way.  

And, the final straw that makes me want off the planet?



1 comment:

Keith said...

I carefully inspected that link and chose not to click on it. Been there, or a there similar enough that I don't need to again. That's right up there with Broney. Just google it, if you don't know. Be warned, you cannot get that minute back, and you cannot unsee it.

Part of me says, it could be worse. You could be a "news" reporter assigned to the Trump family beat. You could still be working at that other place you blogged about. But I will do you a big favour because of our long standing friendship and mutual admiration. Here is a mantra for you.

"I'm getting paid by the hour to do work that stains my soul somewhat, but would fuck up many lesser people."

You're welcome.