paisleypiper's Diaryland Diary
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
incontinent birds and bureaucrats
Those incontinent birds and bureaucrats
The umbrella agency, where I used to work, contracted with me to assemble 45 sets of an extremely complex nine-volume set of binders. Eventually, these binders will become a resource for directors of early education centers in our metropolitan region. But they are perplexed about how to package the nine-volume set of three-inch binders.
I joke with friends and former colleagues at the umbrella agency about how I just can�t stay away. They joke with me about how famous I am for developing binders and other sorts of resources that come with their own notebook. At the umbrella agency I felled so many trees that I handed out parceled in one-inch binders. The administration department ordered special pre-punched paper for me. Binders, especially if they look snazzy, are incredibly popular with the ladies who hop and flit from meeting to meeting � the updated version of the ladies who lunch. The former preschool teacher set also like them. Tidy, orderly, easy to grab on the way to a meeting. Everything color-coded.
My friend KM, the one with whom I once spent an afternoon in a recycling dumpster, is stuck with the predicament of solving the logistics of the binder operations. And he thought of me, on my continual drive to end all debt. He proposed assembling 45 sets of the nine-volume director�s resource par excellence as an evening project for me. Which made me cringe, but when I imagined getting $18.00 an hour to punch and sort and stuff�. I found myself, reluctantly agreeing. The head of his department at the umbrella agency asked why so much, but that is what the temporary service would cost � the worker�s compensation plus the service fee. KM has horrible luck with temporary workers. So horrible that he always ends up re-doing a significant portion and overseeing projects at the micro-manage level. He wants this to go away.
And in a hurry. This morning the office supply delivery guy came and unloaded the contents of his pickup truck into my living room.
As you can imagine. This pile of boxes is very motivating�. Once again, here I am with a consulting gig and once again I am wondering whether it is worth the money�. But at least I don�t have to facilitate. At least I am not having to convince anyone of anything � except perhaps Quinn not to lose her mind. Or me, mine.
This afternoon I ran down to the umbrella agency to pick up the first part of the task � the colored paper that needs to be three-hole punched and have reinforcements applied to the back. I got to say a happy hello to many of my former bureaucratic colleagues, pushing paper and concepts on committee members for a living, and relive how happy I might have been at the umbrella agency�.
KM helped me with the boxes of colored paper on a big dolly, all the out to my car, because he is a gentleman kind of guy. And when we go anyplace together, we always play a little game of who can get the door for the other person first. In fact, we play many funny little games and routinely get extremely silly with the giggles.
Many years ago, we worked well together. We sat in adjacent cubicles and listened for the thunderous sounds of our boss, who is a wonderful person (former boss friend, in fact), but at this time in her life and mine, an annoying boss. Sometimes we would make a little beeping noise when we heard her coming, like trucks backing up for an unloading. And then we felt bad about that because it was mean. That is our pattern � swinging from silliness to regret.
So here we are in the parking lot. KM gets this little smile on his face and a bit of a wince. And then we crack up because the car is covered with bird shit. Major bird shit all over the place. Birds that must eat some kind of protein because it has some pelletous substance to it.
�Can�t you at least turn your car around to get that more evenly distributed?�
� I feel like that Chevy Chase character in Vacation, driving through St. Louis.�
�What did you do to those birds, Piper? You should watch out. I think they have some issues.�
Quinn and I vie with the retired man across the street for the spot that is not right under the tree. But whenever we get it, and invariably we get it every once-in-while, we have to leave at some point. Upon our return retired neighbor has reclaimed it. We wash the car, but cannot keep up. This is a nightly event, it seems. A couple times the retired neighbor guy has even scraped it off for us. But alas we have lost the battle.
So much goofiness. So Friday-afternoon.
8:04 p.m. - 2002-08-16
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------