But he had a problem according to our employer. His dutch wasn’t good enough according to them. I looked around and listened to the people around me. Most of them made grammer errors when talking. But they had a friendly voice. So did the Converter. So what exactly is the problem? I don’t really know.

They were all scared of him at work. With his 199 centimetres of brain and brawn he was quite an intimidating presence. Especially when he got up for lunch or something. People would look at him with fear in the eyes. And I suppose that when he gets angry, that you better hope that you run faster than Carl Lewis.

He told me, after I quit the job post to go back to being an editor, that he got pestered by several people. Supervisors and people who were ranked higher in the company.

“Man, they kept me at work and forced me to tell what I had been doing all day long on the phone. I had to explain in great detail, while the others could just go home.”, he told me with some degree of annoyance and disappointment in his voice.

“I don’t why either”, I replied. I didn’t really know what he had gone through at that time.

“I got in a fight with one of the Supervisors there. What she wanted from me just didn’t make sense so I started questioning her decision. You know what she said? “Don’t question me, or you are going to be here for long. Do you get that?”. I don’t believe it. What do they have against me? I have done nothing wrong!!”

Now you do what they told ya!

His grief became more and more apparent. He felt that he was being picked on. And he is right.  That Supervisor thing was a threat. You can’t question someone’s decision? Aren’t we allowed to think for ourselves or are we just sitting there to do what is told. Any sign of criticism and you are put down? That’s not good, doesn’t make you feel welcome.  And just because you are a Supervisor doesn’t mean you can threaten your co-workers or pull rank when you are supposed to explain why you made such a decision. And make it clear that it is your decision.

Then there was his team manager.  The guy from Hell. That’s what they say about him behind his back. He is tough but he has a sales conversion rate of 15%. The highest on the workfloor so you need to be tough.  Ofcourse you want to maintain that. Doesn’t mean you have to be a bitch. Or make everyone else your bitch. There are more humane and social ways in my opinion.

“I was talking on the phone when The Guy From Hell came sitting next to me and started to listen in. You know, just to see how I handled things.  During one of the conversations, he started to butt in while I was still talking. What the fuck man?? Can’t he see that I am talking on the phone.”

Assertive as he is, immediately after the conversation he glared at the Team Manager.

“Can’t you see I am talking on the phone? We could have discussed this after the conversation is over between me and the client. I do not want you to butt in every time. It’s very very annoying you. Do you understand that?”

“Well I was only trying to improve things for you.”

“Do it when I am off the phone. Not during.”

While he was telling his story about his final days at work, we ate a sandwich.

“Why do they pick on me, man?”

“I don’t know. Some people just are like that. Showing off their so called superiority hiding their insecurities behind a facade.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.  They just try to compensate for their own deficits. Quite annoying really, especially when you are on the receiving end. Personally I can’t stand it. I find it repelling and anti social. I do you like playing the Angel of Retribution. But since we don’t work there anymore it is pointless to think of retribution. So how did you leave?”

“Well one day I called the office and said: I am calling to tell you that I quit.”, he said.  “After that I told them about my situation at work and they said that they would look into it. It was absolutely not normal according to them and they would make some phonecalls to the Personnel Management offices. Haven’t heard anything all yet. And I could care less. It’s not a job worth fighting for anyway.”

“I see, well I sorta left after I had to wimper off the woman who’s sister had cancer. I don’t really understand why commercial interests goes before the health of people. Furthermore I had to bullshit a lot of people on the phone. I could never give them real answers but only vague ones. Selling them shit, like extra subscriptions they don’t really need at all. It’s stuff like that put me off.  As soon as they said Web Editor I said yes. I do miss the fine looking women at work.”

“Hehe yah, there were some fine ones.”, he said.

He still hasn’t heard anything from the offices yet. I doubt that he ever will.

He believes in it so much, that he thinks that his mission is to convert and enjoy and live the Muslim way. Fine by me, but I am not into religion. I do respect religious followers of any kind as long as you don’t hurt anyone by it.  If it makes you feel comfortable then feel free to practice anything you like. Scientology for all I care.

We had one of those “On your way home” conversations one day.  It, as always, were serious conversations where  The Converter (that’s what I call him) would explain how mankind had lost its’ way.

“You know, you are lost too. You seem lost anyway.”

“I am not lost, I am fine where I am”, I replied.

“You don’t appreciate your god do you?”

“What’s there to appreciate then? I am not an atheist, not agnostic, I am not any of that.”

“But don’t you want to know who created us or who made the design of the body for example?”

“No, not really. Why? I mean my body is my body. I use it what it’s made for. I don’t care who designed it.  Utilisation is more important.”

“I don’t think so…you need to worship your god. He guides you through life.”

“I don’t see anything of his guidance. My choices are entirely my own. I don’t need consult with a god to buy a car for example or make an ethical decision.”

The conversation was  awkward. I don’t want to overstep my boundaries and I want to let him believe what he wants and choses to believe and expand on it. It’s his religious belief system, not mine.

But he continues to push. And I keep pushing back until we reach the point where we agree to disagree.

There is really no point in converting someone who isn’t interested in religion one way or the other.  I don’t get it anyway. What’s the point of religion?  It doesn’t make me feel anything.  I don’t feel any closer to any god. Come to think of it, the bible for example only has 1500 pages.  With all life lessons that life has to offer. I beg to differ. What are you going to do when those 1500 pages are up and you have experienced all there is?  Reread the book and reexperience things again? I really don’t get but that’s just me. Who knows, it might just do wonders for you.

Mother's little helper

One of my colleagues has trouble figuring out the computer system at work. She is old. In her 50s. Has a family and two kids. One of them is gay and the other just had a kid. Which was pretty cool actually. We called her Mother.

She needs help turning on her computer and logging in.  When she is on the phone she doesn’t know how to look up the information real quickly. So she needs help.

The supervisors agreed. Help was brought in.

Things went well for my colleague. She was given tips and advice on how to make her work easier.  A lot easier.

My other colleague and I didn’t get it though. I mean, how is it possible that a woman who underperforms gets to stay there for so long while others who fuck up less get fired?  Don’t get me wrong. She is a fine woman, very social and kind. In fact I think she is one of the kindest people I have met in 2009.  It’s just that it took a more than average effort to get her to a certain level at work. But then again it’s not my place to comment on that and I for one I am happy that she got to stay.

During the lunchbreak I went for a cigarette. It was good.  I went back to the lunchroom and I saw my colleagues with the helper. It was a cute blonde. Nice rack too. Well I am male. I pay attention to those things. She was a “Girl-next-door” type.  Cute and feisty.

I sat down with the three of them. They were discussing work. It was pretty interesting.  Then the helper asked one of the colleagues how she was doing. Apparently the two of them knew each other from high school. It was fun listening to the two of them catching up. Both of them were curious about how they fared after they lost contact.

The break was over and the helper and I engaged in conversation.  She was pretty nice really. Very down to earth and a great conversationalist.  She told me that she was studying to become a social worker. She was a university student working at the phoneprovider on a part time basis.

I know a thing or two about being a social worker and that’s where our conversation was headed.

“You have to write self reflections about everything you go through. I don’t know how many I have written but it’s a lot of them. Saying “it’s fine”  just isn’t enough.”

“Ofcourse you did. It’s important. You have to relate to yourself first before being able to help your client.”

“Yes, you do..”, she said with a surprised look on her face. A face that was trying to say “How do you know that?”.

“Yes, have you cried yet? I heard from some former students who also studied to become a social worker that they cried because of the horrible things they experienced and done to other people.”

“No, heh, my experiences weren’t THAT bad! But some people in my class…wow, they have really gone through some of the heavier stuff. And yes, they cried. It’s horrible.”

My colleague wasn’t trying to interfere. She was enjoying the conversation and judging by the look on her face she was happy that her helper and I were talking.

The break was over and I had to head back to the workfloor. Our conversation ended but the blonde sure was nice.

As I headed back to the workfloor, I started thinking of my so called relationship. I hadn’t seen her in a few weeks now. I was unsure of the status of the relationship.  The last time we talked, it wasn’t a big succes either.  She left me standing as I walked home. I started to think that perhaps it was over. No, it was over. Why else would I be left standing?  If so then isn’t it time to move on? I think it’s time to move on. I should move on. I can’t stand being alone. I am never alone for long.

The afternoon that followed was an awkward one. The Girl In Purple, the Girl In Pink were there. The Girl In Purple’s spirited personality rubbed off on a lot  of people.  But there was something special about the blonde helper who I will refer to as “Mother’s Little Helper”.

Mother’s Little Helper sat next to Mother.  We were looking for eyecontact. I hate it when I get busted hehe. And she busted me several times.

Then some weird shit happened. I have been having trouble with the girls of the “Goodlooking women go here” corner. One of them was giving me shit. And a lot of it too.

Mother’s Little Helper started to help me. The old fashioned way. She popped her claws and started bitching back, putting them all back in place. But if that wasn’t enough she just continued. At the end of the day one of the girls walked by us and man if looks could kill, Mother’s Little Helper would be dead.  But she just sat there with a big victorious grin on her face as if it was saying: Eat that bitches!

In my mind I started to laugh. Holy smokes, this is what she did? This is what she can do? I am impressed.  She gave me a confident look. I was all smiles. I don’t even know her name.