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Climbing between Skyscrapers in NY
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 2102
I'm climbing along the tops of two skyscrapers in New York, for some reason the buildings expand as they increase in height and at the top they're only a couple of feet apart, and I'm moving along them one hand on each. It's blue, everywhere, the deep blue of sunset reflected off the glass, and I'm wondering how I'm going to get down when I come to another skyscraper, taller than the ones I've been on, and there's a door that opens onto the roof, clear glass windows, and some women come out and let me inside...
It's an office of sort, and there's two women I must deal with, immigration officials of sorts, wondering what I was doing on the top of the skyscrapers, they're going to process me, my passport, in my pocket, has suffered some misadventures, it's all there, ripped up and in pieces, but complete, the women are running in and out of offices trying to gather appropriate paperwork...
I take the opportunity to leave them, not feeling very bureaucratic, to escape, find elevators, stairs, heading down towards the street, I run into an older man, grey hair, resting on a Chaise Lounge, he's asking about how my immigration is going and I don't answer, he laughs and nods knowingly "gonna keep anonymous, good plan..." and I pat my ripped up passport in my pocket...
I'm downstairs, and it occurs to me that I'd like this week off in NY to be extended, to stay here, maybe get a job, and I'm in a town square now in Philadelphia, puzzling, I only had a week off and I'm realizing that I didn't tell work I wouldn't be returning, am wondering, vaguely, how I got here...
(Note: Have a week off in a week to take a prospecting course. Odd dream, considering the owner of the restaurant is going to NY the same week, odd that I should dream of going to NY in his stead)
Temps
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
- Hits: 2428
Back from Prospecting, broke, a car but no gas, a room in an insane asylum, and whatever I do I'm not going back to that damned restaurant. (Not yet, anyways...).
I get on at Temps.
Temps is the short term solution to your companies immediate labour needs. You need a project, you need to throw men at it, brainless work that needs be done? Temps is your answer. "Cash Paid Daily" is their main recruiting slogan. All you need to work there is your own steel toed boots, they'll sell or rent you the hard-hat and safety vest. Show up, do your WHMIS, you're set to go...if you can wield a hammer and you have your own toolbelt you'll earn an extra $2.00 per hour.
First job is in Airdrie, a week or so digging holes in a basement, some contractor has built an entire development on a poorly built up flood plain, all the houses are getting foundation cracks, my job to dig the post-holes for the jacks that will lift the house up while they re-level the foundations and fill the cracks. Dirty, filthy work, head to toe crusted with mud by the end of the day.
The foreman likes me, wonders why I'm a temp, he can get me on full time, $20.00 an hour to start, I tell him of the prospecting.
A lot of people would think I was nuts, maybe he does too. But I've stirred something in him, I can see it burning inside, and finally when he's bursting and can hold it inside no more he tells me:
"My Brother" he begins, and then the conversation turns to aliens, realizing that I'm not adverse the conversation becomes first person, no longer his brother but himself, there are definitely aliens, they appear in the Bible, the burning bush? Aliens, the Pyramids? Aliens, they track each other via LED displays, they've got a TV screen on which they can watch each other, his brother and him, they're going to Mexico to look for treasure, you have to be careful, usually Mexican treasures are guarded by curses, Bears or Giant Snakes that have magical shape-shifting powers, the breaks aren't long enough for him to share his plans, but I'm catching the enthusiasm...
There's another employee, Philip, a Hutterite AWOL from his colony in Manitoba, he's a bit lazy, he's digging 2 holes to my 5, he's the hired help, not a temp, but he's a whiz with a bobcat, a bit simple, touched in the head, wants to get back to the colony, settle down, when there's bobcat work to be done he shows up to work, when it's hand-to-shovel he contrives illness, a bad cold, a flu, ... and there's Francis, forever off looking for local cafes in which to take a dump, bowel problems, as soon as the foreman looks the other way he's off, our lack of porta-potties means he can take an hour, two, to attend the call of nature.
I dig the holes.
We're working in unclosed pits, 4 to 6 feet deep, knee deep in water seeping in from Nose Hill Creek, the power tools give off electric shocks before throwing the breakers, this is the routine: Wake - 4:00 AM, Temps office at 5:00, be on the jobsite at 8:00, finish at 4:30, home, change, shower, sleep, repeat....
Hatton Garden Jewel Heist
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Link of the day
- Hits: 2390
Breaking news in Britain, another successful jewel heist, something about the scale, planning and ingenuity that goes into one of these is highly appealing to me. Not to mention the 200 Million Pound paycheck. Don't be all judgmental, all they've stolen is some vanity and pride, far less than your average Canadian Bank or cable company, and if it were not for thieves they wouldn't be in business...
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