Five bucks

Empty vending machines…

The workplace is already pretty upsetting. Empty desks, moved away cubicles and dirty floors.

Over the past couple of weeks, a trend has developed in the employee’s lounge. In it are three food vending machines, four soda machines and a water cooler.

At first one vending machine was empty. Then a second one. Slowly, a big pile of empty water jugs started collecting under the table next to the water cooler. Then, a soda machine stopped working. The lights on it went out.

Then, the lights went out on the two empty vending machines.

Now, I don’t know who actually is reaping the benefits of these machines, but only one of the food ones works anymore, and it’s stock is almost depleted as of tonight. Are these filled by the company, meaning they pay someone to fill it and then get a cut? Or is it completely independent.

If the company is paying for it, this is a huge red flag.

In fact, this is the sign that it’s time to polish the resumes, folks, because if they don’t even fill the damn machine with powdered donuts and kit kat bars, we’re in seriously bad shape.

I laugh every time I see the old man janitor “clean” the place. He does a very good job for someone who can’t bend over or lift anything. I suppose he’s been there for a long, long time. I had my first sorta conversation with him today.

He was sitting down outside, admiring the sunset, when I went outside to just get out of the rat turd infested office. That’s for another time, the fact that you open your desk drawers and they are filled with rat droppings.

“How’s it going Mr. H?” I say.

“Pretty good for a Wednesday,” he replies. “I always feel better on Thursdays.”

I have no idea what this means, so I ask… “why’s that?”

“I can watch that show Bones in the break room,” he says, giving me a little smirk.

“So that’s where you disappear to?”

“Yessir…well, I best be getting back to my rounds. Nice chatting with ya.”

“You too, Mr. H.”

There’s something to be said for loyalty. And I guess that’s why Mr. H is still around. The bosses like the guy. He surely doesn’t clean up anything. Funny that’s happening at a newspaper. Loyalty. But then again, they are keeping someone who shouldn’t be there around. So, that is a newspaper for ya.

I’d gone most of the day without thinking about how shitty the job is. So, I stare at the sunset for a second. Then I see the feral cat. He’s big. Almost dog size, and I’m not talking little rat dogs, but middle of the road dogs. I’ve come close to him/her, but she/he always runs away.

No hissing or growling, just the wide-eyed stare and dash away at the last second. One white paw glistening in the fading light. Someone here must feed them, or they just feed on all the rats. Obviously not all of them, as the turd problem can attest.

I wonder if anyone in the office is sick because of all the filth. Sounds like a good lawsuit. Too bad I don’t think that way. Quick bucks were never my thing. Except for the occasional lottery ticket waste of cash.

I used to buy a ticket only when it got over $100 million. And it used to only happen a couple of times a year. Now? It seems like it’s always over $100 million. Maybe it’s some new tax on the U.S.? A fixed lottery. Raise the pot up, then don’t let anyone win for awhile. Pocket the cash, get good benefits and retire. Ahhh, to be a government worker. Especially an elected one. Or better yet, an appointed one.

Only job better is probably that of a professional coach. Be horrible, get fired, get paid. Then get hired by one of your buddies somewhere else. When he gets fired, you get fired again. And paid again. Spray, lather, rinse, repeat.

Or, maybe newspaper publisher.

Anyway. I’m tired. So, I go back inside to finish my work. Somewhere, somebody is watching a Family Guy rerun. Lucky bastard.

I get to my desk. It’s covered with papers. Not newspapers, but just printed out budgets and AP digests and such. I print them out and use them, then pile them up. Fun stuff.

My framed 8X10 glossy from Barton Fink makes me smile. I’m glad I was able to rescue that from the garbage. I can’t believe the stupid lady threw all those old photos away. Given the right amount of time and energy (he, he, he) I could have put those on eBay and made a couple hundred bucks. And I need bucks right now. Like the guy from the old Hardee’s commericals.

I’ll give ya five bucks for that biscuit!

Ok.

Buck, buck, buck, buck, buck.

Now everyone is wondering why I’m clucking like a chicken and smiling at my computer screen. I think I’ll let them keep wondering…