Different
When I warned my co-workers that working in Zombie City was… different… They didn’t believe me. After all, I was doing the same job as they were… cable is cable…, how could it be… different? It’s been a year now, since we “moved in” together. Now, co-workers look at me with a knowing smile and nod their heads. They have come to understand… different…
My supervisor, (on the other hand), does not spend that much time with us, so she does not get the concept of Zombie City… “different”… During her once-a-month visits, she pooh-poohs my description and laughs as if I am trying to tell her a joke.
Well, I must admit, when I try to explain some of the things that go on around here, it does sound rather funny. Matter-of-fact, I think it must be my amusement that keeps me coming to work each day and not go screaming into the night. Today, however, I think Supervisor may have changed her mind about Zombie City. I think maybe, just maybe, she understands…
…different…
Now it’s a known fact that when Supervisor comes for one of her rare visits she will keep office door open. She does this so she can listen to us while we work to see what correcting our “customer service” may need. This is a great theory, understandable and acceptable. It could actually even work except that what actually tends to happen is Supervisor, now in our remote location and not under the immediate attention of her manager, uses her time in Zombie City to make all her personal calls. She is notorious for speaking really loud, and she distracts to the point of disruption.
Now, mind you, I am not blaming her for the weirdness that would follow. Lord knows in Zombie City, it does not take much before the weird get weirder. But I do know that Mr. Turrets can normally keep it together while waiting in line. I have found that if I put the “Music Choice” selection on to a monotony of elevator style easy listening, his normal *twitch* and sometime sound effects can be kept down to a low roar. Unfortunately, Supervisor does not understand the soothing quality "The Girl from Ipanema".
Her loud echo-y voice streams though-out the office with idle chatter ranging from Lacrosse plans, to what the dog ate, the vet bill, Macia Something’s upcoming wedding, what such-and-such did, and “can you believe it was on video tape?” gossip…
Standing five people deep in line, I can see Mr. Turrets’ head start to twitch. I contemplate shouting to Supervisor to shut her office door, but the lobby is crowded with zombies and a shout-out could give them a startle. Zombies tend to get irritable when surprised and its amazing how fast complete strangers will collaborate with one another to transform into an angry mob.
Supervisor… “Blah, blah, blah, new dress , blah blah…”
Mr. Turrets… “Ack-psst ….. Twitch…”
Supervisor… “Going to get new shoes… blah blah blah…”
Mr. Turrets, “Act-pssssst… Twitch… oorrrrk…”
I look at co-worker to my right. She gives me a shrug.
“Blah blah,blah hung up the new curtains… blah blah blah…”
“Ack-pssssst… Twitch… ork… ORK…”
The “ORKing” is reminiscent of the bark of a seal, echoing loudly at the bottom of a pool with no water left in it. The zombies begin to shuffle nervously about. Mr. Turrets’ stress has linked into their psyche like a bee wedged in a dog’s fur coat.
Enter the Crab-man.
Crab-man herds Helmet Head into the front door and nearly bumps right into Mr. Turrets.
“Ack-psssst” says Mr. Turrets in their general direction.
Startled, Crab-Man shouts …
“Left Side Helmet Head!”
(…even though Helmet Head is clearly, already, standing to his left.)
“Psssst… ORK ORK ORK” Shouts Mr. Turrets.
Helmet Head, who is wearing her white helmet today with Strawberry Shortcake stickers, starts to turn around in tight little circles, not sure where she is supposed to be.
“Left side!” Shouts Crab man.
“ORK ORK!” Shouts Mr. Turrets!
“Oh Shit!” yips Co-worker, as Helmut Head suddenly stops, facing the wall…
Helmut Head bolts forward…
::WHACK::!!!!!!!!
Her head hits wall…
“AHHH” shriek several startled zombies!
“ORK…!” Shouts Mr. Turrets.
“Oh God-dammit!” shouts Crab-man.
Supervisor pokes her head out the door of her office. The only way to describe the look on her face is… horrified… Helmet Head staggers for a moment and then plops down on her butt in the center of the lobby.
Someone says, “The poor dear… Is she alright?”
“Yes, she’s fine…” Sighs Crab Man. We go through this two to three times a week.
“Ork…” Says Mr. Turrets a bit subdued with only a slight twitch.
Helmut Head throws herself backward, eliciting a couple more panic squeals from the crowd and lays flat on her back. Crab man, stands over her with a tsk tsk’s, reminding her of the “left side rule”. Supervisor slowly slinks back into her office. The last I can see of her is her arm as it slowly reaches out with a claw like hand, gasps the door handle and ever-so-slowly, (so as not to attract attention), pulls it shut.
Heh heh heh… Welcome to my world…
Supervisor has now become a true believer.
My supervisor, (on the other hand), does not spend that much time with us, so she does not get the concept of Zombie City… “different”… During her once-a-month visits, she pooh-poohs my description and laughs as if I am trying to tell her a joke.
Well, I must admit, when I try to explain some of the things that go on around here, it does sound rather funny. Matter-of-fact, I think it must be my amusement that keeps me coming to work each day and not go screaming into the night. Today, however, I think Supervisor may have changed her mind about Zombie City. I think maybe, just maybe, she understands…
…different…
Now it’s a known fact that when Supervisor comes for one of her rare visits she will keep office door open. She does this so she can listen to us while we work to see what correcting our “customer service” may need. This is a great theory, understandable and acceptable. It could actually even work except that what actually tends to happen is Supervisor, now in our remote location and not under the immediate attention of her manager, uses her time in Zombie City to make all her personal calls. She is notorious for speaking really loud, and she distracts to the point of disruption.
Now, mind you, I am not blaming her for the weirdness that would follow. Lord knows in Zombie City, it does not take much before the weird get weirder. But I do know that Mr. Turrets can normally keep it together while waiting in line. I have found that if I put the “Music Choice” selection on to a monotony of elevator style easy listening, his normal *twitch* and sometime sound effects can be kept down to a low roar. Unfortunately, Supervisor does not understand the soothing quality "The Girl from Ipanema".
Her loud echo-y voice streams though-out the office with idle chatter ranging from Lacrosse plans, to what the dog ate, the vet bill, Macia Something’s upcoming wedding, what such-and-such did, and “can you believe it was on video tape?” gossip…
Standing five people deep in line, I can see Mr. Turrets’ head start to twitch. I contemplate shouting to Supervisor to shut her office door, but the lobby is crowded with zombies and a shout-out could give them a startle. Zombies tend to get irritable when surprised and its amazing how fast complete strangers will collaborate with one another to transform into an angry mob.
Supervisor… “Blah, blah, blah, new dress , blah blah…”
Mr. Turrets… “Ack-psst ….. Twitch…”
Supervisor… “Going to get new shoes… blah blah blah…”
Mr. Turrets, “Act-pssssst… Twitch… oorrrrk…”
I look at co-worker to my right. She gives me a shrug.
“Blah blah,blah hung up the new curtains… blah blah blah…”
“Ack-pssssst… Twitch… ork… ORK…”
The “ORKing” is reminiscent of the bark of a seal, echoing loudly at the bottom of a pool with no water left in it. The zombies begin to shuffle nervously about. Mr. Turrets’ stress has linked into their psyche like a bee wedged in a dog’s fur coat.
Enter the Crab-man.
Crab-man herds Helmet Head into the front door and nearly bumps right into Mr. Turrets.
“Ack-psssst” says Mr. Turrets in their general direction.
Startled, Crab-Man shouts …
“Left Side Helmet Head!”
(…even though Helmet Head is clearly, already, standing to his left.)
“Psssst… ORK ORK ORK” Shouts Mr. Turrets.
Helmet Head, who is wearing her white helmet today with Strawberry Shortcake stickers, starts to turn around in tight little circles, not sure where she is supposed to be.
“Left side!” Shouts Crab man.
“ORK ORK!” Shouts Mr. Turrets!
“Oh Shit!” yips Co-worker, as Helmut Head suddenly stops, facing the wall…
Helmut Head bolts forward…
::WHACK::!!!!!!!!
Her head hits wall…
“AHHH” shriek several startled zombies!
“ORK…!” Shouts Mr. Turrets.
“Oh God-dammit!” shouts Crab-man.
Supervisor pokes her head out the door of her office. The only way to describe the look on her face is… horrified… Helmet Head staggers for a moment and then plops down on her butt in the center of the lobby.
Someone says, “The poor dear… Is she alright?”
“Yes, she’s fine…” Sighs Crab Man. We go through this two to three times a week.
“Ork…” Says Mr. Turrets a bit subdued with only a slight twitch.
Helmut Head throws herself backward, eliciting a couple more panic squeals from the crowd and lays flat on her back. Crab man, stands over her with a tsk tsk’s, reminding her of the “left side rule”. Supervisor slowly slinks back into her office. The last I can see of her is her arm as it slowly reaches out with a claw like hand, gasps the door handle and ever-so-slowly, (so as not to attract attention), pulls it shut.
Heh heh heh… Welcome to my world…
Supervisor has now become a true believer.