Spare MY Air please!

Another Spare the Air day in the hazy, blisteringly hot Bay Area.

Yesterday afternoon, needing a break from the desk and recycled indoor air conditioning. I went outside to take a walk and didn’t last long. The block ahead of me lay in wavering smoky haze and the heat was oppressive.

This morning I walked to the train station and felt a distinct burning in my throat. Given that my dad suffered a terminal lung disease, these sort of burning lung moments do not give me humor.

The local paper is reporting more of the same.

Ugh.

Image via.

Open Gratitude

A few weeks ago, I wrote an ode to a CalTrain conductor.

Today, an Ode to a Shuttle Bus driver.

Owing to working in the building farthest away from the main campus, I ride a small bus, with creaky springs and an uncomfortable ride.

It’s not fun. We had a driver for a time who hurtled that thing way too fast up California highways and byways, often popping unsuspecting folks (like me) up out of their seats. Yes, I caught air on more than one occasion.

Between that and CalTrain side sway, I often arrived home a little blue in the gills…

But that was before Jose.

This new driver arrived one day. A quiet, gentle man. And a gentleman as well.

He drives at an acceptable speed. He “hits his marks” without fail. He neither arrives too early (ugh, we had one guy who was perpetually five minutes early…if you missed it, tough nuts) nor too late.

His best point? He waits for us to come off the CalTrain so he can direct us where he’s parked the bus. We never get lost in the morning train station melee anymore! (other drivers wait on the bus, leave before everyone is on board, and tough nuts if you miss it)

And then Jose had a defining moment.

About a month into Jose’s tenure we had a blasting heat wave in the Bay Area. On the first day of this hot spell, Jose waited until we were all seated on the bus, then stood at the front, and quietly addressed the passengers.

“I want to tell you that the air conditioner is broken on this bus. I have put in a work order. I put in a work order every day. I keep copies. I have twenty work orders I can show you. But they won’t listen to me. However, my company, they will listen to you.”

I realized that Jose is on that damn bus for four hours in the morning and four hours in the afternoon. How miserable it had to be with no air conditioning.

But you could tell he felt it was an act of mutiny to speak out against his employer.

I’d recently worked on a project with the guy in Facilities who owns the commuter program. We’d outfitted the shuttles with WiFi access. So that morning I sent an email.

That afternoon, Jose came rolling up in a new bus with both a smoother ride and working A/C.

When I boarded, he thanked me profusely. And every day for about a week.

Upon my return from a recent week’s vacation, I stepped off the CalTrain, and dependably, there was Jose.

“Karen, where have you been? I’ve been so worried about you!” he said as I approached.

This is the kind of customer service you just don’t get anymore.

This morning, as I rode the CalTrain, I began writing this blog entry. I felt the necessity to proclaim my gratitude.

To my surprise, as I boarded the bus, Jose informed me that today is his last run. He’s being promoted to the big shuttle buses that run between San Francisco and work.

It’s a better situation, more pay, more comfortable bus.

I cannot tell you how sad I am.

How can I emerge from CalTrain every morning and not reliably know where my bus waits?

I wish him nothing but the best. We’ve heard rumors of the “new guy” who’ll be driving. “He drives to fast,” is what I hear.

Great. Dramamine and bungee cords all around.

Jose greets everyone on the bus by name. And we respond in kind. It’s a symbiotic relationship. He gets me to work every day, makes sure I get safely on the bus, and gets me back home to The Good Man every night.

Jose, I’m humbled by your dedication and grateful for your tireless service. The employees who now get the benefit of your services have no idea how lucky they truly are.

Well hey, little lady…don’t get mad there…

Grr.

I got mad today. At work. Really mad. Justifiably mad, actually.

It happens, right? You can never expect to go through life, or least of all, work, without someone ticking you off.

What with everyone having their own *opinion* and everything.

I was mad at a representative from a perpetually maddening organization (*coff*legal*coff*) and was, uh, vocalizing my opinions toward my computer screen.

Being that I sit in a cubicle environment, of course, those seated around me can hear such…vocalizations.

So a couple of coworkers came over…people who are working on this same project and had reason to feel as emotional as me about the recent developments.

Then *it* happened.

“Oh…that’s too bad…calm down,” followed by a pat-pat on the arm.

Here’s a little hint to dealing with me. Never tell me to “calm down” when I’m anything but…and NEVER pat me condescendingly on the arm or head or shoulder.

Never.

And you know who are the worst offenders of this? Women.

Oh yeah. Most women just want to “keep the peace” and have everyone “get along” or whatever.

Would anyone pat-pat a man on the shoulder and tell him to “calm down?”

Not bloody likely.

Oh, I have to be a “good” girl, don’t get loud, don’t get emotional, don’t express feelings. No, just caaaaalm down, : pat pat : and go along to get along.

Working a theme here in my blog this week, I say F that!

Mind your spelling

This as a follow up to yesterday’s post.

Seems the f-bomb has become quite the expressive word!

News out of London….Ah the Brits.

quote:

“The Times newspaper on Monday quoted examiner Peter Buckroyd as saying he gave (a) student — who wrote an expletive starting with f, followed by the word “off” — two points out of a possible 27 for the English paper.

‘…it does show some very basic skills we are looking for, like conveying some meaning and some spelling,’ Buckroyd was quoted as saying.

Buckroyd said the student would have received a higher mark if the phrase had been punctuated.”

end quote

Hey, at least it was spelled right! And heckMr. Censorship! brought the thunder with punctuation. Extra credit!

These days at my job, the f-bomb is just another overused adjective. It doesn’t even carry a punch anymore.

But yesterday and today, quite the media darling. A meme even!

Source

Home again, home again…

…dancing a jig.

Had an easy and non-eventful drive from the greater Barstow metropolitan area to the Bay Area where we were greeted with an oppressive haze from the multitudinous fires burning. None near where we live, but all around. Ugh. The sky is terrible. It’s cold. It’s windy. It’s not Oh Fair New Mexico.

And there’s no green chile.

I’m unpacking, doing laundry and getting ready to go back to work tomorrow. Boo!

I asked The Good Man what he wanted for lunch today. “Green chile,” he replied and we both sighed in sorrow.

“I didn’t get enough mexican food while we were in New Mexico,” he lamented. We had it every day….

What do they call someone who introduces another to their addiction? Cuz that’s what I am. I made a Brooklyn boy a green chile addict. Heh!

Meanwhile, life goes on. The Feline is fine but a big clingy. She missed us in her own way.

Back to normal life, I suppose. I miss New Mexico more than ever…..