Mickey Rooney In Drag

Jacinda’s excuse for pulling a no-show on me was lame. Her story was that she took a bus to the next town over which was about twenty miles away from her apartment. She was visiting some friends, lost track of the time, and next thing you know she’s sleeping on the floor at someone’s house because it was too late for the bus. Jacinda claimed she tried to get home early the following morning to call me and explain but that somehow never happened either. When she got home and saw the note I left on her doorstep she told me she cried all day. I figure she was hanging out with dirtbags getting loaded on shit and passed out cold. It didn’t matter though as I’d never know what really happened anyway. I should have taken that as a sign to forget it and stay away from her but I just could not let it alone.

I made the four hour drive over to her place again a couple months later. We were still speaking over the phone almost every day after I got stood up. Jacinda assured me she would be there this time. Sure enough when I got to her apartment door and knocked I got a response. She was in there, but claimed she wasn’t ready and told me to come back in a while. Jacinda told me through the closed door she had to take a shower, do her hair, makeup, blah blah blah. She sounded a little weird, certainly nervous. She said she didn’t want me to see her the way she was. I had a pretty good idea in the back of my mind I was about to get jacked around again real hard. And I probably deserved it for being this dumb twice in a row. There wasn’t much to do in the meantime but wait until she squared herself away so I got back in the car and drove around town.

This place has a ton of burnouts and freaks in it. I swear I have not seen this many people in a town riding around the sidewalks on those electric scooter chair things. You know the ones five hundred pound monsters with stubby limbs use in the grocery store because they’re mutants and invalids. Their elephant sized legs won’t support the weight to walk any longer. My guess is most people here are on food stamps and meth. I stopped into a gas station to top off the tank and I watched the lady on the other side of the pump struggle for five minutes with the hose. She could not understand how to fill up a red single gallon tank. She had placed the tank down on the ground next to her truck and then proceeded to jab the hose in through the opening. But each time she pulled the trigger it just clicked and nothing came out. The woman pushed the gas tank around all over the ground as she stuffed the hose at it again and again. No gas though. I finished filling up my car and stayed on my side of the pump quietly watching her. It was fascinating to actually see someone so stupid in action.

She asked me for help. Knew that was coming. Her cheeks were heavily cratered like she had done a lot of meth in recent years, and her teeth looked badly ground down. A real blonde haired tomboy tweaker if I ever saw one. I just stood there staring at her for a moment and then I told her the reason why no gasoline was coming out of the spout. She had to hold the can in place and compress the spring around the nozzle before the trigger would activate. I felt like I was talking to an eight year old. Looking in my rearview mirror as I pulled away from the station the woman finally got the gist of it. Good for her.

Jacinda had asked for a few bottles of water when I first arrived at her apartment. I drove over to a grocery store and bought a half dozen. Helped kill some time. I managed to wander around town for about an hour. Bored, I cruised back to her apartment taking the long way. When I knocked on her door for the second time much to my amazement she opened up. Before me stood a small woman with bright red hair. I did not recognize her as the girl I used to know. This person sounded like Jacinda, but looked like the elderly actor Mickey Rooney. Mickey Rooney had sort of an aged, weathered appearance and was wearing a goth dress. His makeup was skillfully done by Tammy Faye Baker. Holy shit. Gone was the hot little redhead girl with a tight figure and a face like Marilyn Monroe that I remembered from thirteen years ago.

Safety Nazi Shutdown

It truly was only a matter of time before Miss Auschwitz returned to our instrument line hoping to implement the “Cone Of Silence.” I waited for a few days without a single sighting of her scraggly looking booty. Her evil plans must have been focused towards some other unlucky department or individual. I pity those poor fellow employees immensely. Whomever or wherever she was exerting her totalitarian will upon surely suffered. Miss Auschwitz style of authority is withering and her kooky misleading directives can drive a well-adjusted person right to the edge of sanity. She is without a doubt a legendary pain in the ass.

Today was the day I had been anticipating with a self-satisfied, twisted glee. You see the Bossman and I had planned to call Miss Auschwitz on her bullshit for the last time. We agreed to make this experience as unpleasant as possible for her with the desired outcome of deterring her from visiting the RF Sources lines. A final harsh beat down if you like, or a “Coming to Jesus” closed door meeting with management. Whichever happened first I did not care. Preferably she would get a dose of both. The first phase of the plan called for myself to confront Miss Auschwitz head on with the data provided by ASResearch. Our product line had the only digital HIPOT tester in the entire division. The Bossman reasoned that because our equipment had better capability for safety during a high voltage short to ground, her new weirdo safety policy would not apply to our group. Therefore she could shut the hell up, stop wasting our time and most importantly get the fuck out. If she chose to argue with me concerning the HIPOT tester data then the second phase of the plan was to take place. I would march her over to the Bossman’s office and he would harsh her from that point on. That was the agreement the Boss and I had discussed.

Early afternoon the wench walked into my area. As expected she came down on me with attitude, and an iron fist full of ergonomic mumbo jumbo. When she told me the instrument line would cease all production until her Cone of Silence shit heap was installed on the test racks I think I smiled. At that point I got her up to speed on the HIPOT equipment we had in the rack and showed her the data sheet with it’s safety specs highlighted in yellow. I asked her if the Cone of Silence could beat the microsecond power cutoff our ASResearch box was capable of. Miss Auschwitz did not appear to comprehend what that meant exactly, so she fell back on her combative skills. I then got up out of my chair and walked her to the Bossman’s office. When he saw the two of us he sighed and I turned around to split the scene.

Weekend Reunion

Four and a half hours worth of Saturday driving brought me to the little town Jacinda lives in. I left early in the morning hoping to dodge most if not all of the wine country sightseers that plague my county; it usually results in below the speed limit tourist traffic jams. My route out of town took me just North of Calistoga on back roads towards Clear Lake. Passing through the bottom end of Lake County I headed East out of the hills. It was a somber road trip, the sky was a soft gray overcast from horizon to horizon. There wasn’t a speck of blue to be seen anywhere. As I dropped down out of the Western foothills to central California flat land the trees gave way to endless farms growing everything from almonds to rice. I had the volume up on my car’s stereo and I cruised along single lane roads without seeing another soul for long periods of time. I wondered what Jacinda looked like after thirteen years, all I had was my memory of her when we were both in our early twenties.

Eventually I crossed over I-5 at Williams. Further East my planned route would take me over lonely farm roads named only with a number. Out there the land is a simple grid of interconnecting roads with no real designation of any kind, farmers hauling out their produce or bringing in supplies to the ranch are the only people one would run across. Time passed slowly as the miles came and went. I was looking for an intersection at highway 99 where I would turn North into Jacinda’s home town.

Arriving at her address I parked my car and killed the engine. I sat inside for a few minutes thinking of what to say when she opened her apartment door. She was expecting me, but I was ahead of schedule by a couple of hours. Realizing I was somewhat nervous and unsure of how things would unfold I sat in the car watching one of Jacinda’s neighbors. She was an old black woman dressed in light blue sweatpants and sweatshirt. The old woman walked about the single story rows of apartment buildings mumbling to herself as a lit cigarette barely hung from her lower lip. Her hair was jet black, cut into a page-boy that reminded me of numerous characters from a 1930′s swashbuckling adventure movie. Perhaps she was a Musketeer that escaped from an insane asylum. When I got out of my car and locked the door I decided to steer clear of the old woman and not invite any conversation. Her dialog with an invisible friend would hopefully keep her plenty busy until I was long gone anyway.

Walking between two rows of run-down first floor apartments I began scanning each door for Jacinda’s number. Figuring out the ascending order on Jacinda’s building I headed straight up until I stopped at her next door neighbor’s concrete steps. Piled high on the final step was a large mound of half-burned and visibly wet blankets. There was also a couple shattered glass candle holders with melted wax remains mixed in with all the broken glass. It appeared as if someone had almost burned down their apartment the night before and got very, very lucky that the whole building complex did not go up in a firestorm. I had to wonder if this whole place was filled with fuck ups and meth freaks.

Knocking on Jacinda’s front door I backed away and waited. There was no answer. A calico cat sat in the window peering at me silently with light blue eyes. I waited a moment and then knocked again a little more loudly. Still there was no redhead at the door. Was she asleep? Maybe she was in the shower. Maybe someone kidnapped her and tossed her body into the Feather river? I had no idea. I did get there early after all so I decided to drive around town and see what there was to see. Kill some time and then come back later. As I walked back towards the parking lot and my car the old black woman was meandering about near the street mumbling to herself in a loud tone of voice and smoking a fresh cigarette.

Nearby I found a few blocks of gold rush era buildings that housed antique stores, a thrift shop, and a book store. Most of the frontier town buildings appeared to be vacant of any businesses. I spent some time browsing in the shop windows as a slight cold breeze kicked up. The day was much colder than I would have expected, I was not wearing a warm enough coat so the chill was becoming uncomfortable. I stepped inside one of the few antique shops to warm up for a few minutes and see what they had for sale. Walking through congested aisle ways I didn’t see anything interesting or worth having. The vast majority of this store’s wares were junk if anything else. And severely overpriced at that. I speculated how long they would be able to survive before going out of business.

As I headed back towards the door I spotted a small collection of glass telephone pole insulators. Laughing to myself I remembered that was my vote for one of the all-time dumbest things to collect. On swing shift at work someone came up with the bright idea to hold a contest for the most useless hobby. Each of us had to make a vote before the end of that night’s shift. During my lunch break I did some generic web searches for things that people liked to collect, and I stumbled across people who were into glass insulators. Some folks were so obsessed with this particular hobby that they had amassed a large photo collection of each year and manufacturer of the damned things. Other people created web sites posting insulator “sightings” on top of old crumbling wooden poles in the middle of the desert. It seemed so pointless and retarded that I made it my choice for that evening’s contest. I could not remember if I won the contest that night or not.

There was a single, battered pay phone on the edge of a nearby parking lot. I pumped a couple of quarters into it and dialed Jacinda’s number. Her answering machine kicked in. Guess she really wasn’t home. She knew I was making the effort to drive all the way over here to see her. We planned the visit last week. Over the phone she sounded excited about the weekend reunion and told me she couldn’t wait to hang out. So what the hell happened? Evidently I had a lot more time on my hands with nothing to do. Getting back in the car I drove around Jacinda’s town with no destination in mind. I passed the time driving around neighborhoods getting lost and seeing if I could find my way back again. I had a greasy lunch at an old run down restaurant called The Cornucopia that back in the Seventies was most likely a Denny’s. My guts weren’t taking kindly to the sandwich and fries I ate. Later on I would experience an unpleasant brown cornucopia atop a toilet thanks to their bad cooking.

Afternoon hours drifted by slowly like the low hanging gray clouds above my head. I was bored out of my fucking mind. Concern for Jacinda faded as I became angry with myself for making the effort to drive all the way out here. I could have been doing anything else with my time off from work. I felt like a chump. There was no one to blame for that except myself of course. Driving back to Jacinda’s place for one last try I knocked on the door and got no response. I wrote a quick note to her and placed it under a rock on her apartment steps. I wanted Jacinda to know for certain I showed up as planned. She really screwed this up by pulling a no-show performance. Then I started the four plus hours drive homeward, with luck I could get home before dark. I felt entirely stupid and somewhat depressed.

Charged With Assault

Jacinda and I spoke yesterday. Curiosity was eating away at me something fierce. Would she voluntarily tell me why she suddenly went missing, or was the latest phone call just going to go over small talk? I chose to lay low and take the small talk path and wait to hear what had happened. Much to my surprise she brought up her disappearing act all on her own.

A female neighbor in her apartment complex saw Jacinda peeking into her windows as she walked by to her apartment. She explained to me that this particular neighbor is on a corner of one of the buildings across from where Jacinda’s place is so she has to walk by the neighbor’s each time she goes to the laundry room or the manager’s office. The two of them have a poor neighbor relationship- this isn’t the first time both girls have fought. Anyway this woman didn’t take kindly to Jacinda peering in at her so she came outside to confront her. The two women started shouting insults at each other, Jacinda was enraged. Like an angry eleven year old girl she decided to ratchet things up a few notches by kicking this female neighbor as hard as she could in the shins. This of course resulted in the police being called for an assault.

Sounds like the district attorney is going forward with the assault charge against Jacinda and a court date is to be set for the near future. I think Jacinda is somewhat frightened about the situation but there is nothing she can do about it now. It’s too late. She is going to have to sit tight and wait to hear from the D.A. then figure out what to do next. The more I talk to Jacinda about her living situation there in that small town I realize how isolated and miserable she must be. She’s got few if any friends, next to nothing as far as income, and the apartment complex seems entirely depressing. Her family is in the vicinity but I am unsure how often they are able to check in on her.

Badly needed social services are pretty much non-existent in Jacinda’s area. She has told me a few times that when she has gone to local government resources for help of one kind or another the response she gets from people sitting behind a counter or desk is that it’s all used up. There is nothing left she can take advantage of. When I asked why, she mentioned that state workers tell her they are broke. Budgets are strained so thin and most of the state resources she is eligible for have been consumed by illegal aliens from Mexico. So she is turned away at the front desk and told to go home.

I realize Jacinda’s town is a backwater. It’s a tiny place in the middle of nowhere surrounded by agriculture as far as the eye can see. The nearest place of any real size is twenty miles away. Since she can’t drive and public transportation is scarce it complicates her isolation. Maybe if she was living back in the Bay Area she would have more opportunities, support from friends still here that remember her, and a much larger pool of social services to utilize. I have a spare room in my house. It’s small, but I could easily rent that out to her which would be a fraction of what she has to spend on rent at her apartment. I am thinking of inviting her down here to stay. It’s risky, I have not talked to Samson about this at all. Not yet anyway. What I should do first is take a trip out to see her and spend some time with Jacinda on a weekend at her place. I’ll ask her that question next time we talk.

Caged Redhead

I haven’t heard from Jacinda in a while again. Weeks went by without a single phone call. So I suspected something bad happened once more. Figuring she may have had another run-in with the law I did some snooping online. Many sheriff departments and local police agencies are posting daily logs of crimes and arrests, I easily found both sites for the town Jacinda lives in. Sure enough on the county sheriff’s site I read about an incident that took place at her apartment complex. Names weren’t released but from the sound of it I could easily picture Jacinda being the cause of a ruckus.

The crime was an assault on another woman living at the complex, starting with an argument or altercation of some sort. Jacinda had mentioned there was a female neighbor there that she’d had problems with recently. Her complaints about this woman all seemed petty to me. Jacinda felt like this girl was always staring at her when she walked by. I guess that makes her angry.

I called the county jail to find out if I could confirm Jacinda was indeed behind bars again. When I got someone on the phone at the jailhouse the woman I spoke with was reluctant to give out any information at first. Probably standard procedure for privacy rights or something. But, when I raised my concerns about Jacinda potentially being missing and having to perhaps make some more calls to the cops to find out where she was the person on the other end of the phone was a little more forthcoming. Also I decided to fib slightly by saying I was Jacinda’s advocate. Whatever that meant. The police woman then confirmed that Jacinda was in the lockup for an assault. She would not give out any other details. Fair enough. At least now I knew for certain where she was.

Surprising, no. Depressing, yes. I decided not to say anything to Jacinda about this the next time we spoke over the phone. Hopefully when I asked where she was for the past couple of weeks Jacinda would be honest with me by telling the truth. If not, well that certainly would make things more interesting.

Fifty Caliber E-mail

ASResearch got back to me with a detailed answer on my HIPOT question. It was better than I could have hoped for…

I appreciate you emailing me this question. If your unit is equipped with GFI your shut down times are has follows:

450 Micro amps trip point to earth

Shut down is < 1 milli seconds (.001 seconds)

Hopefully this answers your question.

Rene

Why yes my HIPOT tester is equipped with Ground Fault Interrupter (GFI). So what does this mean? Basically if you placed your tongue on the unit while it was being fried with two thousand volts DC and it shorted to ground the power shut down is so fast you probably would not feel a slight tingle. During a worst-case scenario electrical failure this equipment is totally safe.

Miss Auschwitz will of course be enraged when she discovers the RF Sources department disregards her Cone Of Silence safety initiative. Earlier this week I took an opportunity to brief the Bossman on this idiotic situation. As expected when I mentioned Miss Auschwitz invaded our instrument line again he was immediately disgusted. He approved of my plan to get rid of her post haste. So, when I forwarded the ASResearch email response to the Bossman I received the following reply:

Ya gotta love the ammo. Hopefully we won’t have to use it, but if we do I’ll pretend it’s a mother fucking 50 caliber automatic.

Hipot Wars

To defeat Miss Auschwitz this time around I decided to do some hipot homework before I bother to involve the Bossman. He likes Miss Auschwitz about as much as getting a bullet in the forehead, I know he will back me up with regard to banishing her from our instrument line. However if I can figure out a way to eliminate the problem she wants to solve on my own without his help this situation will probably disappear much faster. I can use him as a last resort like calling in an artillery strike.

I took a walk around a few other departments this morning to look at how other instrument lines are providing hipot testing. I wanted to see what kind of set up they are using. Turns out all of them have identical vintage equipment. Their MI/EI test stations include ancient, bulky hipot gear. Those old units appear to be from the 1970s, with heavy mechanical switches and bone white background black needle gauges. Archaic stuff. I guess I have the only modern hipot tester in the division, an ASResearch 7550DT. It’s a digital unit complete with a nice bright green readout display, a set of large backlit red and green pass/fail indicators and it’s fully software programmable. Dr. Fist bought it a couple of years ago for a special Engineering project he was working on. I inherited it from him. The hipot test I conduct with this box floods each instrument with two thousand volts of juice for over a minute.

Engineers around here like to go dumpster diving for interesting items when nobody is looking. Dr. Fist is no exception to that. One evening while he was doing some garbage shopping in the site recycling center he spotted his ASResearch hipot tester in a trash bin. From the way he described it, he was angry someone had thrown it out. His project completed, he moved on to another department. Someone else must have tossed his gear. Funny thing was it didn’t break. Nobody had a need for it so into the trash it went. Typical, this company is wasteful on a scale I have not seen anywhere else. Anyway Dr. Fist salvaged his hipot tester, had it re-calibrated at the manufacturer and shipped back in. He gave it to our area shortly afterward.

Since I have a special piece of hipot gear none of the other instrument lines use I thought it might be a good idea to write an email to ASResearch and ask about the safety specs on their unit. If it has some super fast safety shut down during a high voltage failure maybe I could sidestep Miss Auschwitz and her silly Cone Of Silence. With that in mind I located the ASResearch website and wrote the following email to their customer service group:

I have been using one of your 7550DT units for some time and misplaced the operator’s manual. A question came up about the unit’s safety features and I wasn’t able to answer the question through online resources. In the event a direct short to ground occurs during Hipot testing with this unit, how quickly does the 7550DT detect the fault and shut off the power? I know it’s almost instant but I’d like to know if the power shutoff time is actually specified. Thanks in advance for your time.

The Cone Of Silence

Work took a turn for the dumb again today. I was back in MI/EI running boxes through final verification tests, no major issues and things were pretty smooth. I got bamboozled by Miss Auschwitz while I was finishing up some shipping documents. Stupid bitch totally took me by surprise- a sneak attack. My sincere hope was that she would not attempt to fuck with me again especially after the epic beat down she got from management over the ergo lift incident. Probably seeking some petty revenge, she made it a point to barge into my area babbling about something she called “The Cone Of Silence.” I had no idea what the fool was getting at until she started focusing in on my HIPOT gear. Slowly I got the gist of what she was trying to do.

Part of the final testing at MI/EI includes a safety test with a HIPOT instrument. HIPOT is a nickname for High Potential. Basically what you do is hook up a piece of gear and you flood it for a specified period of time with high voltage supplied by the HIPOT instrument. It’s a special piece of test gear with only one function- voltage output. During the high voltage portion of the test the box you’re flooding with juice should not develop a short to ground. What this means is, if a device did have a short to ground and you made contact with it by touching the frame you could receive a hateful load of voltage. Shock the shit out of you. In some cases it might be enough to kill you outright. So, if the HIPOT test passes there is no short to ground and that’s what we want. If the HIPOT test fails and the gear trips killing the power then you have a big problem. Something in the box shorted out. The dangerous part of the whole test is if you as the test operator happened to be touching the box while the shit fails there is a chance you could get fried.

Miss Auschwitz informed me that per the ergonomics department new safety regulations all test stations that provide HIPOT must now be clearly marked with warning signs, and a goofy safety shield has to be installed all around the test rack. Special ESD mats also have to be present. She referred to this new unseen safety shield bullshit as “The Cone Of Silence.” I have no idea where she came up with that stupidity. From her description of what the Cone Of Silence is, it’s a new mechanism that has clear plexiglass shields and stands about six to seven feet tall. As she was ranting about the details I knew the whole initiative was going to be a colossal waste of time. I let Miss Auschwitz talk herself out without paying much attention to her inane chatter. Before she was done though, she noted that since I did not have the HIPOT warning signs, a special ESD mat, and a new Cone Of Silence retard shield that I could no longer perform any more HIPOT testing until I got them.

Fuck that noise. She is not going to shut down the line over this horseshit. No way. I have month end shipments to make or else. Factory Peasant vs. Miss Auschwitz round three is about to begin….

Crazy Redhead At The Circle K

I have said it before in the past and I’ll say it again now. Nothing ever works out the way I figured it would. Jacinda magically reappeared after a couple of weeks with no contact. Just about every scenario a person might think of ran through my mind as far as what happened to her. Some situations were far fetched, but of the likely things that may cause a person to drop off the face of the earth I didn’t consider one possibility at all. Instead I focused on wondering if Jacinda had gone on a multi-week drug binge, skipped town with her ex, moved back to Oregon with someone else entirely, got herself committed to a mental hospital. Or maybe it was so much more simple. The reason she wasn’t returning my calls was she came to the conclusion that it’s too weird to be in contact with somebody you used to date thirteen years ago. Turns out I was wrong on all options.

Jacinda returned my calls and didn’t bring up what had happened to her at first. The conversation was normal enough like nothing had happened. She wanted to know how I was and what I had been up to. She asked about my work. I answered all her questions while at the same time I was growing more and more curious with Jacinda’s disappearing act. She didn’t offer any explanation so I decided to risk asking directly what the hell went wrong. The other end of the phone got quiet for a moment and then she replied “I was in jail.”

Didn’t see that one coming.

According to Jacinda she was out around town with a girlfriend partying goth-style. The two of them wandered into a quick mart like a Circle K. I forget which chain store she said it was. While the girls were in the store they got into a verbal tussle with the clerk behind the counter. I don’t know what provoked the argument and Jacinda probably isn’t telling me the whole story anyway. So I listened as she told me her side of things. Jacinda gave the cashier endless amounts of shit so he called the cops. And when the cops arrived Jacinda started in on them, too. Apparently the police officers didn’t dig it so they arrested her and drove her off to the county jail. I guess nobody showed up to bail her out.

When I got off the phone with Jacinda I was skeptical about her explanation. I hopped on my computer and did some research. I looked up the county Jacinda’s town is in and found the Sheriff’s website. Then I started doing a search for recent arrest records and jail bookings. Sure enough, I ran across some info that backs up Jacinda’s account of where she has been lately. Heh. Seems she is telling me the truth. So the next question I have to ask myself again is what the hell am I getting myself into here?

Radio Silence

Haven’t heard from Jacinda in over a week.

Every night after work we’ve had long phone conversations. That’s been the routine for a while now. Jacinda doesn’t have much going on from day to day so we talk about old times together, mutual friends, bands each of us likes and dislikes. Sometimes she complains about the neighbors in her apartment complex. Many of them sound like total freaks the way she describes them. Jacinda can’t stand her apartment manager, apparently. Last time we spoke I brought up the possibility of driving to see Jacinda soon, which she seemed happy about. Going there for a visit would mark the first time in more than thirteen years since we last saw each other. I estimate it will take me about four hours to reach her town from here. Not a bad drive if I leave early enough in the morning. It may turn out to be a fun adventure.

Since that conversation I haven’t heard from her at all. I have to admit I am a little concerned. Trying to avoid the perception of becoming a pest I have not left more than a few messages on Jacinda’s answering machine. Calling repeatedly is probably going to piss her off, especially if she’s okay but just doesn’t want to be bothered for a time. I can’t help but wonder if something bad has happened to her though. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary during our conversation on that final call before everything went radio silent. I know she has relatives near where she lives. I assume if Jacinda did really need help her family would be there and step in to save the day. Maybe I will try to call them in a couple more days If I don’t hear back from her. I can probably find a listing for them online.

I threw one of those Indian necklaces into a box with some more compilation CDs for Jacinda shortly before she stopped returning my calls. Can’t help it, but I realize that might have been too much too soon. Perhaps she thought it creepy and weird. Guess I’ll have to wait and see what she does next.

Indian Wedding Jewelry Care Package

I drove over to Berkeley this weekend. Since Autumn and I are no longer together there is really no reason for me to be there anymore. It’s almost like a no-man’s land over the border that you don’t dare visit because memories will surface that you would rather not think about. Over the past few years I spent so much time in Berkeley with Autumn going to shops and restaurants there probably isn’t a single street that would not trigger a moment from the past. I’d rather try to forget. Something compelled me to make the afternoon trip though. It was going to be a quick dash to one location and then turn around to bounce out.

Through the mail I sent Jacinda some music CDs. She seemed to like them, and we’ve been in more regular contact since then. She doesn’t write or put anything in the mail. I send stuff, she calls and we talk. I’m cool with that. From the sound of things she really is bored and doesn’t have a whole lot to look forward to each day. So I been thinking it might be fun to send her some of those elaborate Indian wedding necklaces I used to buy for Autumn. Each one is different, with deep colors and bright gold or silver metal bits holding all the cut glass together. Honestly when I see a woman wearing one of them it does make me kinda squirmy. Especially the necklaces that plunge from a girl’s neck line down to the cleavage. I can’t help but let my eyes be dragged downward by the jewelry…

Taking the freeway exit I drove a couple blocks up University and parked the car around the corner from a shop Autumn and I used to frequent. As I shoved the door open and walked inside I was greeted by the owner. I don’t know her name, but the woman is always there. Dressed in a colorful sari and with her graying hair pulled back tightly she recognized me with a big smile and asked how Autumn was. I frowned, quietly told her we weren’t together anymore and mentioned something about being angry over the whole situation. The old Indian woman seemed very surprised at the news and changed the subject. It was an awkward moment. Leaving me alone I wandered away from the front counter to browse the latest arrivals on racks around the shop floor. I stared at expensive traditional wedding jewelry secured behind back lit glass display cases for a few minutes. Nobody else was in the store and neither one of us spoke as I walked around looking.

It didn’t take long. I found a nice emerald green necklace, and two others that I suspected Jacinda might like. After selecting them the old woman brought them to the counter, carefully wrapped them all up and gave me the bill. I paid and left just about as fast as I could. Driving home I thought about when I might ship Jacinda the first one and wondered if she would be happy, or if the gesture would somehow backfire in a way I might seriously regret.

Conversation With A Black Belt

So I survived my first compulsory Six Sigma brainwashing session this afternoon. The material we covered was bone dry, boring as hell. We were being indoctrinated in the ways of the Six Sigma White Belt by a tall slender man with bright blonde hair. Our teacher reminded me of a full grown successful Nazi eugenics experiment due to his master race appearance. I’ve never seen the guy on campus here before. My guess is he’s one of those cubicle dwelling drones from Building 2 upper, or maybe he’s buried somewhere in the bowels of Building 1. Whatever he does here the man has now apparently been trained extensively in Six Sigma by outside consultants. He’s supposed to be one of those experts in the methodology- a Six Sigma Black Belt. As he was running through power point slides and scribbling on a dry erase board while walking around the edge of our conference table I half expected him to kung fu chop me at the back of my neck with no warning. Maybe it had something to do with my apparent lack of interest during the two hour class. I don’t know for certain.

We covered far too much material over an inadequate amount of time. With all the bar charts and diagrams I felt like this was overkill, a solution to a problem we didn’t really have. Nobody seemed to have a better idea of Six Sigma or a direction on how to employ it in their daily tasks. I could see it in their faces. Waiting patiently for my fellow zombies to leave I sat in my chair thinking about asking one question of this Black Belt uber man. He didn’t notice I was still there. He immediately began collecting training materials strewn about the room and straightening his papers in a case as soon as the course was closed. When he realized a straggler was loitering I mumbled something about wanting to yap for a minute about Six Sigma on the down low. From his reaction it was obvious mister Black Belt thought it odd, but he didn’t tell me to get lost. I hung out.

When I felt like the flock was herding itself down a hallway and it was safe to speak candidly I began to rant.

“Okay so since you’re the expert on Six Sigma I wanted to ask a question. If you’ve been here for a while you know we have the Business Metrics program which is a long standing part of Bill and Dave’s workplace culture. It’s quite comprehensive. Now we’ve got Six Sigma being rushed in here like it’s the greatest thing ever, and I find myself dismissing it as little more than an elaborate repackaging of common sense data collection tools that are already widely accepted in business and industry. The six standard deviation junk doesn’t do much for me. Parts per million factoring on an instrument line I only ship thirty or so units a month from is kinda dumb. What I want to know is, is Six Sigma in your opinion the Emperor’s New Clothes? I mean, you’ve got the Black Belt now so what do you think?”

Mister Black Belt stopped cleaning up the conference room and sat down across the table from me. He kind of looked around to make sure no one was within ear shot and he said while nodding, “Yes. It’s just a repackaging job. They spent a lot of money putting five or six of us through a crash course in Six Sigma. For the most part everything we already do here is covered in Six Sigma. It’s redundant.”

I was surprised by his honesty. I did not expect that kind of reaction from him actually. Since I had nothing better to do I anticipated our Six Sigma Sensei to debate me on the subject for a while. With any luck I might make him angry which would be entertaining, until he used his lethal Six Sigma factoring skills to kill me. Instead I think I may have discovered another wise employee who saw through the corporate bullshit but was keeping his head down in an effort to not get himself laid off.

“Will Six Sigma change anything here?”

“Probably not,” He said.

That’s exactly what I was thinking.

Jacinda Jukebox

I’m in regular contact with Jacinda, we usually talk in the evenings a couple times a week. She sounds bored most of the time and keeps complaining about the sorry radio stations in her local area. Since she doesn’t have a CD collection or anything to listen to besides shitty college stations from Chico I decided to put together a care package of discs to listen to. The best way to do it up I figured was get one of those car CD binders that hold thirty or so discs. They’re small enough to fit in a glove box so that would make it easy to box up and ship via mail. I bought one and got a bulk pack of a hundred blanks. Then it was time for the difficult part. What to put on them? And what order should the tracks be in?

Making compilation collections of music can be tough. You’ve got to think about what the person you’re making the compilations for likes and dislikes; plus sneak a few favorites of your own in that won’t be too disruptive to the overall theme. Jacinda and I both had similar tastes in music which would make things somewhat less of a pain to put together. We had some common interests like punk, gothic/death rock, and industrial music. I chose to start with the gothic stuff, making discs with Christian Death, Bauhaus, Malign, The Sisters of Mercy, 69 Eyes, Chrome, Android Lust, and a bunch of others. On the Industrial side I made up discs of Front Line Assembly, GGFH, Skinny Puppy, 16 Volt, Diatribe, Godflesh, Sleep Chamber, and more. Included in the audio care package was a notebook. I hand-wrote in all the song titles and numbered each CD with a corresponding page so she would be able to quickly look up whatever it was she would play on her stereo.

Where I really got into time consuming compilation projects was with the punk stuff. It’s challenging to think of the best two dozen or so tunes from a band like the Dead Kennedys and put it into a cohesive collection. But, I had plenty to work with and lots of time on my hands so each night after work I picked a punk band and put together one anthology of each group’s work. Even though it was tedious I did have some fun listening to some stuff I haven’t heard in years. I raided my Misfits collection, The Cramps, TSOL, Agent Orange, Sonic Youth, Big Black, D.I., etc.

Nearly two weeks later the whole project was nearing a total of 32 CDs. There were a number of one-offs I added like Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Pixies, and Cocteau Twins. Standards like them never seem to become tired and boring. In a way I was trying a shotgun effect hoping to throw in enough material that there had to be a good enough chance Jacinda would be into it.

White Belt Bullshit

Six Sigma training works on a silly colored belt system like a martial art. It’s statistical analysis Karate. Take a bow facing your opponent, a software generated scatter chart and do the parts per million factoring. Roundhouse flying foot Karate kick to the head! Allegedly, basic Six Sigma training when completed results in an employee having a White Belt status. Wow. Can you tell how interested in Six Sigma I am? White Belt training will comprise of self-paced web modules that must be finished by a deadline set by corporate. The few people who have been assigned to act as internal trainers overseeing the project will be referred to as Black Belts. These folks are supposedly going to be the Six Sigma experts throughout the division. I’ve heard their Black Belt training with outside consultants is going to cost Bill and Dave’s $20,000 per person. Ouch. That seems really steep to me. Between the White and Black Belts there are a bunch of specialized training modules that would result in a different color of belt. It remains to be decided if we will be messing around with any of that junk.

With self-paced web module training employees here generally cut corners to get it over with as quickly as possible. Cheat sheets containing all the correct answers for each module usually surface, and then are circulated rapidly from department to department. Part of the issue is there are so few of us left working here that we are sinking. We are drowning fast with the workload. The water level is about ten feet above our heads and rarely can we swim up to the surface for a breath of air. I have mentioned it before, for those of us who have survived a dozen rounds of layoffs we are doing the work of multiple people. Not just our own forty hour a week assignments anymore. That’s why so many of us are burned out and uninterested in this place. Six Sigma is just going to have to take a back seat to all our other daily priorities. We gotta make those month-end shipments or Super Geek doesn’t get his glorious Shareholder Value.

The Beard sent everyone an email detailing how this Six Sigma thing is going to go down. Here’s what he provided:

To all WBU Manufacturing employees,

In WBU Manufacturing the Six Sigma White Belt team members must complete Basic Curriculum Quality Training and White Belt Training so they can provide project specific process and cross-functional support. Under the guidance of Black Belts, they will gather and analyze data as well as help sustain the gains created by the Six Sigma project. White Belts will work on projects as needed, by providing expertise on areas where they are directly or indirectly involved in the processes. On larger projects, White Belts may be asked to dedicate themselves full time to the project.

Within the company interweb you will find the Basic Curriculum Quality Training Course. The goal is to have 100% of WBU Manufacturing employees take these classes. Instructions on how to launch these classes will be available during the week of February 12th, the Kick Off week for Six Sigma’s White Belt Training.

The White Belt Curriculum will be made available as soon as the Six Sigma White Belt classes are complete. The goal is to have 40% of WBU Manufacturing employees take these classes. The following is a complete list of all the required classes for White Belt.

Required courses for a White Belt are: (classes with a Blue * are the Basic Curriculum Quality Training classes you will find on the web)

Introduction to Quality Series:
· Quality@Bill and Dave’s – Know Your Role*
· Introduction to Quality Tools*
· Introduction to Process Improvement*
Quality Tool Series:
· Pareto Chart *
· Cause-and-Effect Diagram*
· Process Flow Diagram*
· Time Series Chart*
· Histogram *
· Scattergram*
· Control Chart*
Root Cause Analysis Series
· Introduction to Root Cause Analysis*

In addition to the Basic Curriculum Quality Training you will need to take the following classes to meet the White Belt requirements:

· Basic Root Cause Analysis
· Corrective Action
Six Sigma Courses
· Overview of Six Sigma (yet to be released)
· Six Sigma Methodologies and Tools (yet to be released)

Thank you,
The Beard
Basic Skills and Quality Training Coordinator
WBU Manufacturing Center

Scanning over The Beard’s training matrix I realized there is very little new to us with Six Sigma besides the Six Sigma overview sections. Everything else appears to cover what we already have in our Business Metrics program. We currently perform in-depth root cause analysis when we discover serious problems with product platforms and we always have a Continuous Process Improvement policy. None of this is new, as I mentioned we’ve had all of this in effect at the company for decades. The only notable change in the past five years or so is nobody is paying attention to that data collection anymore. That’s why we are in so much trouble. With Six Sigma I think someone is trying to reinvent the wheel. Maybe at another company where they don’t already have some sort of statistical analysis program or a form of quality data collection Six Sigma would be a better match. Here, it will be entirely redundant to what we already have in place. I really don’t understand the point in bringing Six Sigma to life here at Bill and Dave’s.

Weeehooo. I’m gonna get me a White Belt.

Champion Of Six Sigma

I am now convinced the company is not at all serious about Six Sigma. If this is such a groundbreaking, important initiative key to our future success I would have expected management to assign a hot shot leader. Instead they announced Six Sigma training would be organized and lead by none other than The Beard. He’s been lingering here for a while as an “Individual Contributor.” They took away his supervisory role so he has nobody reporting to him anymore. He’s part of the good old boy network of managers in this division. While hardworking veteran employees are thrown out guys like The Beard are allowed to linger on until retirement. His pals have protected him from layoffs by granting him Individual Contributor status and assigning him projects nobody else would want. Most of those projects are like unwanted leftovers in your refrigerator. They don’t affect anything which is probably a safe bet he won’t be able to screw up royally. Let’s face facts. Anybody here worth a shit has better things to be doing with their limited time.

His previous assignment was some sort of vague training position. I heard The Beard routinely fell asleep during his meetings and training sessions. For example, he was supposed to be video taping technical training on Network Analyzers but he was too stupid to figure out how to transfer the video to software for burning onto discs. So his retarded solution was to present new technicians with power point slides instead. You can’t train green techs on circuit theory and PC board test that way. It’s not practical or useful. Before that he was directly involved in some goofy Malaysian initiative. The Beard made appointments in each department on each instrument line to observe how people did their job functions and then note ways to improve the process. I forget what that dumb program was called, but when it was my turn to show The Beard our button up process before shipment off the line he fell asleep in his chair. I was about two seconds away from slapping him across his knees with an instrument side-strap handle and asking him if he understood what I was explaining. One of his peers saved him though, he gave The Beard a nudge that startled him back into consciousness as I was reaching for a strap handle to hit him with that was on the edge of my work bench.

We used to call leaders of screwy corporate-backed programs “Champions.” Totally corny. Those were the unlucky employees assigned to lead whatever new industry trend crap being foisted upon us. I guess The Beard is now our Six Sigma Champion. I know he’s going to doom the whole deal somehow before it’s over with. But that’s cool with me. Six Sigma will fade away far sooner than it would in anyone else’s capable hands.

Six Sigma Spin

Well, here we go. It hasn’t even been a whole week since Super Geek dropped the Six Sigma bomb on us and mid to low level management types are already rubber-stamping the initiative. They’re such good little yes-men. Top Cat decided to follow up and then Scar Lip also chimed in. But let’s take a look at what Top Cat had to say first shall we?

Dear TeaM,

One of Bill and Dave’s priority is to “Achieve superior business results through Six Sigma.”
-What is Six Sigma ?:
It is a methodology that helps companies provide products and services of the highest quality and value. Six Sigma is a financially oriented, data-driven, structured improvement method that involves projects, teams, data-analysis tools and statistical expertise. It can help us in all aspects of the company — in satisfying our customers, in our product quality and delivery, in the way we manage our inventories and assets, in our new-product development processes, and also in managing our functional processes throughout GIO.

-Why is Bill and Dave’s company implementing Six Sigma now?:
We have lots of room to improve in quality, and it’s an important business issue. Quality has suffered during all the cutbacks, systems changes and focus on financial results. We have work to do to get refocused and start improving faster — Six Sigma is a proven way to accomplish and maintain that.

The bottom line is that Six Sigma achieves business results measured in dollars.

Let me quote B.S.: “If there is any message I would want to leave with you it is that this Six Sigma effort is not a Quality program. This is to build a foundation of rigor, a systematic approach to solving problems in the company. Without a systematic approach to solving problems, we will not make the systematic changes we need to do to improve customer quality, improve our financial performance, and getting our products to market.”

-What can you do ?:
Consider a White Belt training. It provides a great set of tools to help you make the most of your time. It is a self paced training available on the quality website that will clearly enhance your skills.

Have a great week,

Thanks and Best Regards,

Top Cat
FY05: How will We delight our Customers today?

Hmmm. Very interesting that Top Cat chose to actually mention anything about our ongoing quality problems. I doubt he knows how severe they actually are at this point in time. Since those serious issues were created by off-shoring to Asia, twelve or thirteen rounds of massive job layoffs, and subcontracting to a bunch of weasels, it is not realistic to expect Six Sigma is going to be able to turn customer dissatisfaction around at all. I mean, we already have plenty of data gathering tools to measure quality and I’m sure alarm bells have been going off non-stop for the past couple of years. The critical thing to remember is nobody with any real power in the company to change things has been paying any attention to those alarms. So why would they pay any attention to Six Sigma?

Top Cat included a quote from B.S. who happens to be Super Geek’s No.2 at Corporate in Palo Alto. I smell some confusion brewing between our fearless leaders. From his comment “If there is any message I would want to leave with you it is that this Six Sigma effort is not a Quality program” I can tell the big guys are already unclear on what Six Sigma really is. Super Geek told us in his communication that Six Sigma IS a quality driven program. B.S. just went and contradicted his boss, y0. Perhaps it matters little what Six Sigma can be defined as but I think it is becoming obvious our leadership has no clue what they just purchased for us and what it is that Six Sigma is supposed to do. Also of note, they did a thorough job laying the axe to everyone’s necks in our division Quality departments. So I guess for now we better hope and pray Six Sigma is not a quality-based program because if it is nobody will be here to implement it.

Now let’s see what yes-man babble Scar Lip has to add to the Six Sigma mix.

As a follow-up to Super Geek’s message launching the company’s Six Sigma program, we want to add our sponsorship to this exciting initiative.

Six Sigma is an industry-proven methodology to create process rigor in all aspects of business operations. Many companies, including General Electric, Samsung and Motorola, have generated billions of dollars in savings that are directly attributable to Six Sigma programs.

Within our division, the benefits will include enabling the entire organization to simultaneously address financial goals and enhance customer satisfaction while improving our ability to execute through more efficient and organized processes. The Six Sigma program will also provide this division’s employees with a tool set to help generate breakthrough business results.

More details will be communicated soon by your manager.

Best regards,

Scar Lip

Okay. Any time one of these nitwits refers to an industry-trend program as “exciting” I am convinced it’s going to be mind numbingly boring. Not to mention useless. This shit is never exciting. I mean let’s think back for a moment. Was ISO:9000 exciting? Fuck no. That was just a quick way to deforest the entire West Coast of trees for paper due to all the printer copies of pointless documentation we generated overnight. Was BSOF hip and happening? Fuck no. That had to have been some sort of safety related insurance scam and it successfully introduced the safety Gestapo to our company. Diversity Training. That was a great one I will never forget. We were corralled like livestock into mandatory brainwashing sessions and encouraged to hassle minorities and gays. Totally insane. I still cannot believe we weren’t sued into oblivion on that deal.

Just because General Electric, Samsung, and Motorola adopt a program does not mean we have to act like Lemmings and jump off a cliff into the Six Sigma abyss. Besides I’m sure they all padded their numbers heavily in favor of how great Six Sigma was and then cooked the books on how profitable it was when they instituted the program. Especially if one of them created Six Sigma in the first place. Do you realize how much loot they could make by marketing a package like this? There’s training courses, books, seminars, video presentations, online resources, etc. all of which has to be bought by suckers like… us. Whoever packaged Six Sigma must be raking in the dough.

Scar Lip says this is going to “enhance customer satisfaction” as he puts it. Yeah, it’s magic bullet time again. It’s like we’re all passengers on the Titanic. Standing on the wooden deck we can clearly see the ship is going down, and the life boats are fading fast in the darkness, but the Captain and his immediate crew are all convinced it’s unsinkable. How reassuring. Will Six Sigma cause the company leadership to hire back skilled employees in the Quality departments? Probably not. Is Six Sigma going to reveal how badly the Research and Development labs need realistic schedules for producing rugged designs that last more than twelve months before crapping out? Nah. Could Six Sigma data prove how negative the impact was to off-shore our products to unskilled workers in other countries? Nope. Nor will it reverse these trends for one simple fact – the damage done is too severe for this company to repair.

Six Sigma

I was wondering how long it would be until corporate latched on to another tech-industry snake oil scam. Looks like I didn’t have long to wait at all. When I got in to work this morning and started my daily scanning of emails to ignore I came across a company-wide announcement from Super Geek hailing the introduction of Six Sigma to every division. Part of me wanted to laugh sarcastically as I read it, another part of me just wanted to sigh and shake my head at the futility of it all. Anyway I clicked on his email.

Dear Bill and Dave’s employees,

Our FY05 Priority to Achieve Excellence in Customer Satisfaction includes the strategy to “achieve superior business results through Six Sigma.” I am pleased to announce that, Six Sigma will be launched across the company. Six Sigma is an industry-wide quality approach that helps companies provide products and services of the highest quality and value. Specific to our FY05 theme, “Winning Through Innovation,” Six Sigma enables innovation by providing a method and tool set that can be applied to any business process to boost new ways of thinking and working. Additionally, Six Sigma has been proven successful in Bill and Dave’s ATG and Corporate Controllership. All employees can participate in Six Sigma. You can learn program specifics and answers to frequently asked questions via the Six Sigma website. And, going forward, you can expect project updates on this website and from your management team, InfoSpark and other communications. Six Sigma is an important element of our FY05 Priorities. My staff and I are fully committed to using this methodology to achieve a higher level of customer focus and operational excellence. Thank you for your efforts toward achieving all of our FY05 Priorities.

Best Regards,

Super Geek

I decided to look a little further into Six Sigma on my own by hopping onto Al Gore’s Internets. As I suspected, Six Sigma is another bolt-on industry standard that Super Geek and his platoon of yes men are going to force down our throats. Their hope no doubt is that Six Sigma will act as a magic bullet for all of our company woes. From what I could gather on the Six Sigma thing it looks like nothing more than data collection on your existing manufacturing process, and then you make common sense decisions based upon your findings. Uh, isn’t that what we are already supposed to be doing? I mean, we’ve got self-imposed systems here that do the exact same thing already and those seem to have been working well for decades.

For example, a huge cornerstone of the Bill and Dave’s method is what we refer to as Continuous Process Improvement (CPI). Basically anyone in the company is empowered to make suggestions on how to solve problems in our manufacturing processes or sidestep them entirely. All you have to do is gather some data, make observations, and present it to the group. It’s been effective in the past. We also have what we call “Business Metrics.” Business Metrics are a fairly comprehensive set of data collection tools that we use constantly. Each line supervisor is responsible for putting all the information together however he or she can delegate the data collection out to subordinates on the line. The end result is the same either way. We look at our problems and performance based on the data and make changes to resolve or improve deficiencies. It’s pretty simple.

So why in the hell are they rolling this Six Sigma stuff out now? The timing seems very odd. I mean if Super Geek was going to pull this out of his pointy nerd hat why didn’t he do it when the company was split up? Rolling Six Sigma out in the first year after the company split would still be dumb in my opinion but it would have made a little more sense on the timing. I think it’s also interesting he chose to mention the Automated Test Group (ATG) was used as a guinea pig for Six Sigma. Word on the street is they’re getting ready to sell off the whole ATG division to an outside company and jettison their employees without a severance package. That’s an awesome start here for Six Sigma. I guess Super Geek was too busy driving yellow Ferrari’s while plotting the wholesale destruction of the company’s United States workforce to think about Six Sigma at the time our company was unnecessarily broken into two. Remember folks it’s just like Super Geek always tells us, it’s all about “Shareholder Value!”

Here’s what I predict is going to happen in short order:

1) Management at all levels are going to get spun up on Six Sigma like it’s crack cocaine.

2) They’re going to mandatory training-session-us-to-death and pay through the nose for an army of faceless Six Sigma consultants. Not long after that we will all be good little Six Sigma zombies.

3) Within a year after zombification the whole program will wither on the vine and die, like so many other half-baked corporate sponsored industry trends Super Geek has picked up.

4) All the cash we threw at Six Sigma will have been pissed down the toilet.

I don’t know, call me a skeptic. This shit just keeps getting more and more stupid around Bill and Dave’s company. I am not sure how much longer I want to hang out here and deal with it.

Commiseration

Jacinda and I have been talking a lot over the phone lately.

She tells me about her ex-boyfriend. They moved to Oregon and got a small place together in a rural area. He got a job with the Forestry Service as a firefighter. Jacinda was not working, so she played housewife. Both of them were getting by, they even bought a new car. Things were good. Months passed with little changing in their daily lives. He worked and made enough money to pay the bills while Jacinda kept the house in order.

She wasn’t allowed to go out alone much and she didn’t have many friends or acquaintances in the town they moved to. At some point her man became possessive, and controlling. Jacinda tells me he threatened her. He was becoming abusive. Maybe it had something to do with hours being scarce at his job. They argued. Bills went unpaid. He lost his job, debt collectors were calling. They fought often. Fearing for her safety Jacinda abandoned her belongings and fled back to California. On her own with little in the way of income she was able to find a single bedroom apartment and move in with some help from her family. Jacinda tells me she barely has enough money each month to survive. Most of her income goes to rent, anything left over goes to food and basic utility bills. She has no job prospects. There is nothing to do where she lives and the local radio stations suck. She says her town has to deny her basic social services because illegal immigrants have used them all up. Local government agencies are broke and turn her away.

I tell Jacinda about Autumn. I describe her in detail and I tell her how Autumn kept my relationship limited to her liking and my frustration. I talk about how we were together for five years and the same problems continued to surface like bad re-runs of syndicated television shows. Autumn always left me with no workable solutions. I am bitter as I describe Autumn’s problems and remember some of the incredibly stupid disputes I had with her. In hindsight these problems seemed so simple to resolve, but she would never allow it to happen. I deliver a skillful monologue about Autumn’s social activist tendencies and how meaningless it is to everyone else who lives outside of Berkeley. And I talk about how sick of Berkeley I am in general. It’s full of freaks, losers, and filth. For all the social activism and ecological awareness Berkeley residents proclaim to be fostering daily you’d expect the city to be a Utopian model for the rest of the nation, and the world to follow. Yet there are plenty of homeless and hungry people sleeping on the streets of Berkeley every night. Violent crime is high. Trash piles up along the streets. It’s like many other American cities, and it’s a hypocritical joke.

Berkeley has a place near the college campus called People’s Park. It’s a rundown city block where addicts hang out in broad daylight smoking drugs. They’re all the same. Gray hair and wild smiles from behind scruffy beards wait for anyone to come close enough so they can tell you how they “stopped the war” while their vacant eyes glisten in memories of protests past. I have little use for these burnouts and in my opinion they were nothing more than a circus sideshow of the Vietnam War Big Top. There was a group of people who did stop the war and none of them were in America. They had an unbreakable will and determination to retake their country, which the Vietnamese did at great cost. It’s easy for anyone to get loaded, hang out in public parks with a cardboard sign over your head, and stink. That does not take any effort at all. The sixties free love generation has given themselves far more credit than they will ever deserve.

Talking with Jacinda I realize how angry I am. She listens, and I feel better.

In The Zone

Buying a membership for a local twenty-four hour gym was more expensive than I guessed it would be. I’m so sick of the petty employees up on the hill at work that I decided the less I have to interact with them the better. Their sense of entitlement and spoiled brat behavior disgusts me. The cost of the fitness center membership is worth it to me. After the incident with the Wednesday evening cubicle-dicks dressed up like Olivia Newton-John extras from the “Let’s Get Physical” World Tour I chose to boycott the company exercise room. I suppose now that the company has more or less stabilized from job attrition in the United States, those who still hold a position that comes complete with it’s own little office at Bill and Dave’s are even more arrogant. They’re buying into corporate management’s propaganda that everyone who is left standing is now safe from future layoffs, thinking they will be there until they retire or some shit. Can’t wait to see the look on their faces when they get thrown out with a severance package next year.

I workout at the gym three times a week. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I gave myself weekends off to relax and drink beers. My routine is a half hour on a stationary bike in the cardio-room and then I spend 45 minutes to an hour on the weight floor. I alternate between upper body and leg machines until I’m too tired to continue.

On the bike after ten minutes or so I start to zone out. I don’t listen to music or watch the televisions on the far wall of the expansive room. It’s like I’m hypnotized or something. Time disappears until all of a sudden the red LED display on the bicycle tells me the session is complete. Sometimes before the time is up I have a moment of clarity and I scan over all the bodies in front of me, organized by equipment rows. They jump up flights of stairs to nowhere and run in place endlessly. Some of them seem so incredibly active and in good health I wonder why they are here. Others are terribly overweight and I am surprised they don’t drop dead on the spot. Standing up from the bicycle I wipe sweat off of it’s handlebars and control panel. Then I walk away towards the weight room and slide into a vacant machine to punish my arms.

I zone out on the weight machines too, but not as much. There are more distractions on the weight floor. More people wandering about talking with each other or on their cell phones. Some people just don’t know when to ditch their ever important cell phone. It’s like life might end for a half hour without it. As I sit working on my shoulders a stranger will be at the machine directly across from me sitting on another machine babbling into their cell phone about their job, what they bought at the store earlier, or what the neighbors have been up to. It’s all mindless bullshit. And these jerks are blocking anybody else from using the machine they’re on. Seems oblivious, selfish, and inconsiderate of others. Nobody can use that piece of equipment until they get up. But what do I know maybe I just constantly complain about people no matter where I am. I try to tune them out and get back to the zone.

Oddly enough I have observed a new kind of female nitwit here at the twenty four hour gym. It’s some sort of workout-makeup-zombie. These horrible little monsters are rail-thin, wear skin tight metallic outfits that make them look almost naked, and they’ve got makeup caked so thick on their small faces that they might as well have gone to Tammy Faye-Baker’s cosmetics school. Here’s what is so weird about them. They arrive at the gym already dressed in their bodysuits and they proceed to come onto the weight room floor but they never actually exercise. I haven’t seen one of these broads lift a single weight. What they do is position themselves near a busy area and sit on an unused abdominal machine for example, and watch. That’s all they do. Besides talk on a cell phone of course. I suspect these women are here man-hunting. And they need to be seen, badly. I guess it’s an attention thing.

I fade back into the zone until it’s time to leave. At least the beat-downs are helping me get to sleep at night.

Cubicle Dwellers Workout Too

Cubicle people are annoying. I’ve got just as much right as anybody else here to use the employee gym after work. Each day after five o’clock I walk to the workout room and beat myself up pretty good. Generally I hit an exercise bike and peddle away on it until my legs painfully cramp. Then I use some free weights on my arms until my muscles are too sore to pick anything up off the ground. It’s the only way so far I’ve found to knock out some of the stress and get to sleep at night. Ending the relationship with Autumn has really fucked me up, far worse than I would have expected. 

Today I walked into the gym to find about ten other employees from the cubicle maze in Building 1 all decked out in expensive workout clothes. They looked like retards. Almost all of the machines were occupied which was kind of a drag. I walked past a few of them in my street clothes and hopped onto an exercise bicycle. A couple of the cubicle-dicks were looking at me obviously irritated that I was there. Ignoring them I set the bike for a 30min warm up routine and began to peddle. Then this scrawny office skank comes over in her little two-tone gray and pink spandex rig like she’s straight out of an Olivia Newton-John video and yells at me for messing up their regularly scheduled routine. I didn’t know what the hell she was babbling about. Apparently a small group of these jerks show up in the gym at five sharp alternating turns on the machines in a certain order. By being there I was messing it all up for them. How was I supposed to know? It’s not like these self-entitled office workers posted their meeting time on the front doors to the gym or anything.

I didn’t feel like arguing so I just got up and left. As I was driving home I thought about getting a membership at a fitness club or private gym someplace else. There’s a big one nearby the factory, maybe I should just hang out there from now on and skip the employee facility.