Monday, August 15, 2005
By the time things are settled I will have exhausted every possible discussion topic. There's not much to do other than complain, talk, and discuss possible job alternatives. Today I spent 20 minutes discussing the impact of the Gretzky trade in August 1988 while getting soaked. I spent another twenty minutes explaining what emo was to someone. Maybe I'll be ok, as long as I don't get boring. I don't really know what's going on or how long it will last, right now all I know is that it's my job to walk back and forth and picket. I'm a cog.
I should have invested in rain gear instead of comic books this weekend. I was ill prepared for four hours of picket duty in the rain. For an instant when I was biking home across the commons, I almost wished I had splash pants...almost.
I should have invested in rain gear instead of comic books this weekend. I was ill prepared for four hours of picket duty in the rain. For an instant when I was biking home across the commons, I almost wished I had splash pants...almost.
I peddled past the CBC Radio building as management/security types hurriedly secured the buidling, literally locking people out. I glanced at the large clock on the side of the building, a little after midnight eastern time, shortly after the deadline the imposed 72 hours before. I tried to convince myself that maybe it was just for the night, a routine security check. I knew was being naive, but sometimes you need to lie to yourself about such things.
I made my way up Summer St to the television building and a parking lot full of empty CBC vans, the only vehicle showing any life was a sedan with two men, shirt sleeves and ties, in the front seat. I knew what they were there for, I didn't need to ask and I didn't need to watch.
I hummed Crimpshrine songs as I put my head down and made tracks for home. I took my time, alternating between riding and walking my bike. I knew exactly what the headlines would say when I checked the internet...
'CBC locks out 5,500 workers after contract not reached by deadline'
I made my way up Summer St to the television building and a parking lot full of empty CBC vans, the only vehicle showing any life was a sedan with two men, shirt sleeves and ties, in the front seat. I knew what they were there for, I didn't need to ask and I didn't need to watch.
I hummed Crimpshrine songs as I put my head down and made tracks for home. I took my time, alternating between riding and walking my bike. I knew exactly what the headlines would say when I checked the internet...
'CBC locks out 5,500 workers after contract not reached by deadline'
Left outside again
On the outside looking at the world
Wondering "Where do I fit in?"
Where do I fit in?
Not in somebody else's ideas
Of how I should live
Not when I've got so much more to give.
