paisleypiper's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ground in, stepped on, mashed down pile Ground in, stepped on, mashed down pile Me, at work, working. Writing, sending e-mail, talking on the phone. I have a growing sense that I am under surveillance. Is it that I am going mad? Is the institution getting to me? I don�t look up because I am alone in the office, or so I think. 1: UUUMMM 2: Ugghhhh ohhhh 1: I know I told ya �bout this. 2: Uh hugh. Yep. 1: You know what I see? What I see before my eyes? What is there, before my very eyes? (I finally look up. Curiosity has gotten the better of me. I am not alone, after all. The cleaning people have let themselves into the office and have been standing in front of me, carrying on some sort of grunting and groaning conversation.) Piper: What do you see? 1: Can you see this? The whole thing is gunna have to be ripped out and re-placed. 2: Riped out and re-placed. Yup. 1: See where the line is, here, right where we are standing. 2: (points at the spot where the old carpet and the new carpet meet) Piper: That is where the new and old carpet meet. 1: See that white. See that white stuff, ground in to my carpet. 2: Yup. They just tracked all over it. Piper: What? We have been under construction. 1: Its drywall dust. I spect paint, too. 2: Yup. Some paint too. Piper: I was going to see about getting it cleaned. 1:This won�t wash it. Ain�t no washin this out. Ground in, stepped on, mashed in drywall dust. Piper: (thought: apparently drywall is lethal. They move on to the next room, carrying on in their grunt language.) HU: Piper, I hear you got a promotion and you are on a diet. Piper: I am always on a diet. It is just that some days I fail myself. HU: Have you considered the delicious dishes of the rice lady? She prepares them herself. They are ethnic and spicy and quite tastey. You can subscribe to the rice lady�s lunch service for $5.00 a day. Delivered to your desk. Piper: H., no thank you. I am not interested. HU: Why don�t you at least try it. Just for a day. You could come eat with me in my office. People clear out, usually and we have a good time. Piper: You and? HU: The other rice eaters. Piper: (thought: it sounds like a Van Gogh painting) No thank you. I just am not interested. HU: But it could help you on your diet. Well, if you are not interested in the rice lady, how about the handmade candle lady? She works over in Dr. Popcorn Brain�s office. Her candles smell wonderful. Just like oatmeal cookies. Piper: How will that help me on my diet? HU: They smell so real you think you had them. Piper: Guilt without the fat and calories? Are you getting kickbacks from these people? HU: I�m a facilitator of goods and services. Piper: (thought: try not to get stuck in the bathroom with this woman as there is only one door) For the record, when I call her the rice lady it is not meant to be a cultural thing. I am referencing that she pushes rice on unwitting employees. To the extent that her operation could be called a racket, a black market, illegal, even. Instead, I am just calling her the rice lady. The rice lady is both highly organized and unofficially organized. She has minions who are in charge of sales. They descend on new employees and on people rumored to be starting a diet and they talk up the rice lady and her delicious, low fat rice dishes. For at least eight years, the rice lady has had this side line, supplying rice dishes in disgusting old Tupperware to approximately 50 people each day, 5 days a week. For at least eight years. Can you imagine the money, in cash, under the table that the rice lady is making? The rice lady herself doesn�t talk. It is part of her mystique. She just waddles with her bags and boxes of rice dishes. She has a delivery system and a payment structure. I am presuming that she even has thugs! No one messes with the rice lady. Opponents to the rice lady say that her rice dishes have made them seriously ill. And when you think about it, how do I know that the rice lady carefully washes all of these containers. On the other hand, no one files complaints or tries to shut down the operation. The gray market is too important to the ranks and ranks of under-paid employees at the university, trying to make a living. You know that life is so surreal to me sometimes that I become filled with this sensation that I am standing in the midst of great joy but the boundaries are so far away I cannot touch them. How do we know something if we do not know where it ends, where it begins, where it draws its lines? 10:16 p.m. - 2002-08-01 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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