mind expanding nonsense

Posts tagged ‘rap sheet’

Fun at Work


OK. I’m still working in retirement for my former employer, fighting crime for the Probation Department. I call the place the House of Pain, after the H G Wells novel “The Island of Doctor Moreau.”  But in stead of fighting crime, I’m fighting boredom. Because I’m doing the same damn thing over and over and over again. As B B King sang, “The thrill has gone.” I think it was day three of being back, when thirty years of doing this (same old) shit triggered Automatic Pilot to kick in.

Now, my blogging has started to suffer – Work sucks the creative juices right out of ya. And, sitting in a cubical four hours a day, grinding out bullshit doesn’t really lend itself to red-hot war stories. But ol’ Hansi, with a feeble, yet devious mind, came up with this brilliant idea. How do I make Work Fun? Or better yet, how can I have fun while giving the illusion that I’m doing work??

I work in a bureaucracy wherein appearance takes precedence over substance. [That sounds like someone I know who’s running for president]. So…how can I spend four hours having fun, basically doing nothing, while getting paid for it? Hey Tea Party taxpayers, don’t get pissed, just think of this as one of them “reality shows” where people are being paid just to be their own stupid, asinine selves.

So, how do I  start my day? Well spending 45 minutes dreaming up this bullshit and writing it down is a good start. “Hansi. How do you get away with that?” Well, like a good magician, work is all about slight of hand and mis-direction of peoples’ attention. I’ve got a pile of “rap sheets” laid out in front of me filling my desk, with other “to do” piles nearby. It looks like I’m working at a feverish pace, but actually I’m cranking out the rough draft of this post. Ooops…My supervisor just walked by; better take a work break.

Five minutes later: Phew….glad that’s over. My desk is now fully camouflaged with papers and files all over the place. Total chaos, and in Probation-land chaos = really busy. Here a pile, there a pile, everywhere a pile pile. Old Hansi’s bent over [but not like in the bent over where ya gotta grab your ankles], and working his arthritic fingers to the bone. That reminds me. My fingers are getting a little stiff; better go to the bathroom and run some hot water over em. Especially my thumb, which has been up my kiester most of the morning.

Ah…that’s so much better. Time for some computer work. One of the perks at work is that I get to listen to my blues music on earphones and tune everything else out. Right now I’m listening to a tune called “Voodoo Love”. I know. Sounds luscious, and how appropriate. Cause it’s mug-shot fantasy time.

Everybody on probation has a seven digit “person number”; yes you are a number and not a name.  And in a person’s (sorry, a number’s) “Person Summary”, there are yet even more numbers: Sheriff’s booking #; rap sheet #; DMV # etc.  And… a Mug Shot, which is the picture they take of you, celebrating your entrance into jail. And since I’m sitting on a massive drunk driver caseload, I get to see folks at their absolutely shit-faced, inebriated best….cool

So what better way to waste time than to spend it fantasy-land, making up stories about the people (numbers) that just got busted.

Poor Sara B. Looks like a deer caught in the headlights. From closing down the bar to County Jail, something went wrong on her way home to the trailer-park. Wonder if running that red light, pulling up over the curb and barfing on the cop when he asked to see her drivers license had anything to do with her plight. She’s cute, but I’d hate to be inside her head the next morning.

Mr. Harrison. Mr. Harrison. 50 something, unshaven, hair a mess, wearing a stained t-shirt. Sure it’s OK to have a couple of beers after a day of yard work. But when ya hop on your deluxe mower and drive it to the Liquor store for another 12 pack,  leaving a path of destruction (and lawn clippings) in your wake, you’re gonna draw attention to yourself. And please….wipe that shit eating grin off your face.

Sometimes just sitting in front of the computer spaced out, having a 60’s flashback is fun too.  “Excuse me while I kiss the sky”

Well, today has been the best day of work I’ve had to date. I even managed to cut down my production by half.  Wonder if I can get it down to 30% work, 70% play? Something to shoot for… A goal…And, you know it’s good to have goals.

Fun at Work


OK. I’m at work, the House of Pain, fighting crime. Really, I’m fighting boredom. Because I’m doing the same damn thing over and over and over again. As B B King said, “The thrill has gone.” I think it was day three of being back, when thirty years of doing this (same old) shit triggered Automatic Pilot to kick in.

My blogging has started to suffer – Work sucks the creative juices right out of ya. And, sitting in a cubical four hours a day, grinding out bullshit doesn’t really lend itself to red-hot war stories. But ol’ Hansi, with a feeble, yet devious mind, came up with this brilliant idea. How do I make Work Fun? Or better yet, how can I have fun while giving the illusion that I’m working??

I work in a bureaucracy wherein appearance takes precedence over substance. [that sounds pretty good, better write that one down]. So…how can I spend four hours having fun, basically doing nothing, while get paid for it? Hey Tea Party taxpayers, don’t get pissed, just think of this as one of them “reality shows” where people are being paid just to be their own stupid, asinine selves.

So how to start my day? Well spending 45 minutes dreaming up this bullshit and writing it down was a good start. “Hansi. How do you get away with that?” Well, like a good magician, work is all about slight of hand and mis-direction of peoples’ attention. I’ve got a pile of “rap sheets” laid out in front of me, filling my desk, with other “to do” piles nearby. It looks like I’m working at a feverish pace, but actually I’m cranking out the rough draft of this post. Ooops…My supervisor just walked by; better take a work break.

Five minutes later: Phew….glad that’s over. My desk is now fully camouflaged with papers and files all over the place. Total chaos, and in Probation-land chaos = really busy. Here a pile, there a pile, everywhere a pile pile. Old Hansi’s bent over [but not like in the bent over where ya gotta grab your ankles], and working his arthritic fingers to the bone. That reminds me. My fingers are getting a little stiff; better go to the bathroom and run some hot water over em. Especially my thumb, which has been up my kiester most of the morning.

Ah…that’s so much better. Time for some computer work. One of the perks at work is that I get to listen to my blues music on earphones and tune everything else out. Right now I’m listening to a tune called “Voodoo Love”. I know. Sounds luscious, and how appropriate. Cause it’s mug-shot fantasy time.

Everybody on probation has a seven digit “person number”; yes you are a number and not a name.  And in a person’s (sorry, a number’s) “Person Summary”, there are yet even more numbers: Sheriff’s booking #; rap sheet #; DMV # etc.  And… a Mug Shot, which is the picture they take of you, celebrating your entrance into jail. And since I’m sitting on a massive drunk driver caseload, I get to see folks at their absolutely shit-faced, inebriated best….cool

So what better way to waste time than to spend it fantasy-land, making up stories about the people (numbers) that just got busted.

Poor Sara B. Looks like a deer caught in the headlights. From closing down the bar to County Jail, something went wrong on her way home to the trailer-park. Wonder if running that red light, pulling up over the curb and barfing on the cop when he asked to see her drivers license had anything to do with her plight. She’s cute, but I’d hate to be inside her head the next morning.

Mr. Harrison. Mr. Harrison. 50 something, unshaven, hair a mess, wearing a stained t-shirt. Sure it’s OK to have a couple of beers after a day of yard work. But when ya hop on your deluxe mower and drive it to the Liquor store for another 12 pack,  leaving a path of destruction (and lawn clippings) in your wake, you’re gonna draw attention to yourself. And please….wipe that shit eating grin off your face.

Sometimes just sitting in front of the computer spaced out, having a 60’s flashback is fun too.  “Excuse me while I kiss the sky”

Well, today has been the best day of work I’ve had to date. I even managed to cut down my production by half.  Wonder if I can get it down to 30% work, 70% play? Something to shoot for… A goal…And, you know it’s good to have goals.

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