Life as a Loo Attendant

Date: Nov 30 1995

Ok already, here's the next issue. It's taken a while because I spent almost all my time dealing with mundane things like survival. Now maybe you'd think that survival isn't all that difficult in Jolly 'ol England, as opposed to say my globe-trotting buddy Mr Dermot struggling to survive in Drug Lord warrens in New York City, or trying to avoid nerve gas attacks in noodle factories in Tokyo. Well, he has it easy - at least he expects people and things are out to kill him. You never expect Mad Cow Brain cells to make you a mindless vegetable from eating jam puree, or a whole host of other seemingly innocent activities.

I don't really have much to say. This is mostly to say Hi and I'm still alive since I've been quiet for the last year or so. As a ditch digger, I don't get much of an opportunity to punch deck, but with my recent janitorial position, I occasionally happen to stray across abandoned computery things and log on.

Ok, so the last you heard, I think I was digging a big hole where they'd put a building, with a Computer Room that I originally designed and should be in charge of. So the other day, while moon-lighting as a janitor, I notice that there's an open position for a Lieutenant Something-or-other for the place. I figured it was for the Computer Manager for the place. The position had never been filled, and the last time they interviewed for it, a Spanish dude got killed (no kidding) while in Heidelberg for the interview.

I figure to avoid any further possible embarrassment in case something went wrong again, they changed the position title. So, being the butter-fingers janitor that I am, since I don't really have my degree in Janitorial-ism, I accidently dropped all the resumes (CV's) that were on the desk into the garbage. To make up for it, I quickly put together a resume of my own and left it on the desk.

So imagine my surprise when I heard that I got the job as "Lieutenant". Wasn't even an interview. I guess maybe my resume was the only one. haha.

So I show up, feeling oh so superior now that I'm in the Big League again, and they hand me a silly uniform again, even dumber than the one I had as a Keyboard Duster, and a brush (see the RJ's Downfall issue).
What the !*^#*^* is this?!?
Well, it turns out I'm not a "Lieutenant", but a "Loo Attendant" !!
Dammit! I knew I should have taken advantage of Asokan's "Improve your Vocabulary Course" at U of Waterloo.

This is real embarrassing. All my former colleagues are laughing at me. Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and I'm a Loo Attendant. I don't think I can go any lower than this. I called up my buddy 'Ralph' to ask his wisdom of how to sleaze my way outta this, but as soon as he recognized my voice, he fell about laughing and was totally incoherent. My fate is well known across the globe. dammit. Could be worse. Could be German toilets. Germany has always put too much resources into designing cars instead of self-cleaning toilets. England is way ahead there.

Of course, now my pay represents that of a Loo Attendant, and I can't afford a ticket to escape back to Canada. sigh, how I miss the Land of burgers, indoor-heating, toilet-paper dispensers, and cable-TV. Winter is here, and I'm bloody freezing in this crappy house I'm about to be thrown out of. again! About every 6 months, foreigners get kicked outta the place they're in.

The House Police are starting to show the place off to prospective buyers. To help put off my eventual eviction, I've declared war. Just before potential buyers show up, I dampen a spot in the living-room ceiling and put a half-full bucket of water under it, spread mouse traps around, and leave several packages of ant and roach killer lying about. The House Police are starting to get real pissed off at me. who cares. What's the worse they could do - make me a Loo Attendant? hahahahhaahaha.

I hear reports that former colleagues of mine are doing real well. Mr Ken "Grape J00se" Wellsch is off to Florida, Asokan is off to Switzerland. Dermot is buying up small countries while loitering about Tokyo. God must hate me...

Someone (Taro?) once told me that Heaven is a Japanese wife, Chinese food, and an American house. My buddy Jeroen says that Hell must be Japanese food, a Chinese house, and an American wife. Sounds like Hell to me. But there must be different levels of Hell. I figure a far worse Hell is English food, an English house, and an English wife. I'm suffering 2 out of 3. ow ow ow
Living in the Boredom zone...