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Chubby Funster
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: People
- Hits: 753
A charming, nice guy, professional, from the big city, new waiter, I renamed him after a restaurant I saw in Revelstoke, it suits him. And he doesn't mind, parries wits, it's so nice to have someone "real" to work with, but I don't think it's going to last...
Lex
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: People
- Hits: 684
There's been an unending stream of employees coming through the restaurant, they come, they go, often just here long enough to grab a cheque and then continue, thumbs out, towards the coast. For many the Kootenays is the dream, for others it's just another waypoint on the road to bigger and better things...
And every crew of new recruits the owners put through an "Orientation", a 2 hour introduction to house policies, regulations, etc, etc. Which is ridiculous if you consider that at best there's only another 6 weeks of summer, and 90% of these new recruits will be gone, and in 8 weeks it'll be the bare bones of the owner's son, another server, and 2 or 3 people covering all shifts in the kitchen...this "Orientation", it's more of a "Legal-cover-your-ass" sort of deal, and it's a chance for the Mother of Owner's Son to pontificate kindly upon her corporate sociopathy and abundant (not really, and largely irrelevant) experience in the industry. And, as I've heard from some of the recruits, apologize for my behavior, apparently I'm a kindly tolerated but necessary evil...
One of our more charming recruits was "Lex", a small-town Albertan former "Rig Pig" who had moved to the Kootenays on a whim to officially change genders and reinvent herself...
We get a lot of that...
"Lex", (not her real name), was your standard flamboyant, overly-dramatic drag queen. Not to cause any offense but lets call a spade a spade. There was nothing even slightly "Trans" about her, in Calgary, Vancouver, any bigger center she (he) would have found her (his) place and been content, but she (he) had never lived in a big (or bigger) city than small town Alberta and subscribed to this hopeless binary fantasy that changing genders would solve all her problems...
40 Years old, boyish, close-shaven face, nothing even remotely feminine about "her", no amount of surgery will fix this, more the over-the-top parody of femininity that drag queens do so well, this "girl" needs to find her niche...
She's a hard drinker, has hormones, surgeries scheduled for the next few weeks, and I'm wondering how on earth any reputable doctor would even consider reassigning someones gender when they're drinking a bottle of Vodka or more a day, but then I think of prescription drugs and the general state of healthcare and I get it...
A day off and she's drunk, drunk as I'm going in to work, and the evening takes a turn for the dramatic, she's mortified at her cheque, the deductions for housing, they're excessive, and she confronts the owners, they quarrel, she tries to push her way past, into her accomodation, she's thrown out, boot-fucked by Sr. in the parking lot, there's the police, drama, and then she's gone...
I hear all the stories, from the owners, each of them, from their son, from the Chef who lives next door, they all vary wildly, from "Lex started it" to "She was another victim", and if I had to side with anyone it's Lex, but I can't say, wasn't there, the owners are pressing charges...
I've seen this show before. And, regardless of anyones point of view, the fact that they continually find themselves in this position strongly to me indicates their guilt. They've a stack several feet thick of complaints upstairs from the labour board, from disgruntled employees, and a stack several meters high of rebuttals written by the owner, but I can't help but think if 20% of your daily workload is responding to government inquiries about your treatment of staff then you're probably doing it wrong...
The Batshit Map To Shambala
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Stormy
- Hits: 912
Passing through town on Errands, I run into Batshit. He's flush, and tries to take me for a coffee...
"Where'd you get the money?" I ask, and he explains that he drew up a bunch of maps that showed you how to sneak into Shambala and sold them to a group of French Canadian backpackers...$5.00 apiece, and now, he hates to cut his coffee short, but he has to dash down to Salmo to see just how this is working out for them...
"...I'd be a professor in a Kindergarten Class..."
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: People
- Hits: 716
At a garage sale in the Valley, there for the rocks, and - by coincidence - this garage sale is selling them. All sorts, everything, lots of crystals, Quartz, Tourmaline, gems, specimens, minerals...This is great. The prices - so-so, better than Shop Prices but not as cheap as finding them yourself...
...Probably cheaper if you factor in the expenses, but I don't think that way...
...Anyways, the "host", or proprietor, he's talking about his gems, he's worked as a geologist in 66 countries, knows his stuff, some great pieces...
He introduces himself, at a guess I say "Rod?", another Rod I met, prospector, out in the field, who found some of the more famous local claims, older, white haired like him, but not him - "No, but I know him..." he says. His familiarity with him drips of contempt so I don't pursue it further.
"Anything Local?" I ask, he's a couple of pieces, nothing of great interest, I leave him and browse around on my own. I recognize him from the laundromat in town, eavesdrop on his conversations with other customers...
...he knows the story of every rock, found every one himself, and he's got thousands, ..."I picked this up beside the road, spotted it from my car..."...and "at the turnoff to the I90, spotted it glistening a mile away in the desert...".
I place him, from the laundromat, a bit of a blowhard, boaster, braggart, American, has a house in North Carolina, etc, etc, it comes back to me...
A new age hippie has cornered him, is loving his crystals, is asking him if he's a member of the local rockhounding club, "OF COURSE NOT!" he replies, "That would be like a PROFESSOR in A KINDERGARTEN CLASS!" and then struggles to find a more apt metaphor, this one wasn't extreme enough, no, it would be like GOD trying to talk to ANTS, or ...
"I guess so..." the hippie meekly replies, rounds up her purchases, he mollifies a bit, she's buying something, and he's explaining the different crystal properties to her..."This one ... under Kirlean Photography...displays an interesting aura..."...
He notices my laughing, time to get out of here...
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