Owner of a lonely heart

[oh-ner uhv a lohn-lee hahrt]: This song is possibly the first rock hit to use a sample. The drum break at the beginning and the horn stab that shows up a few times in the song sound very similar to a short section of the 1971 song “Kool Is Back” by Funk, Inc.

 

The House That God Has Forgotten Part 34: Do you like anyone?

The other day a summer worker asked me at promenade:

“What floor does BC like the most in The House That God Has Forgotten?”

“None.” I answered.

The next day another summer worker asked me at promenade:

“Is there any floor in The House That God Has Forgotten that you actually like?”

“No.” I answered.

Sitting behind the computer that day I complained on the telephone about the typical things that a floor does each day.

“This number needs to come down. He has a transport.” (after 5 minutes of being up there)

“Did you think to read something like the LIFT?” I answer back in a bitchy tone.

I don’t like having to sift through 24 screaming men to find one to go to an elevator. What they do not see is the inmates trying to sneak in the elevator. They do not see the constant screams I have to make.

They do not see that I have better, more important things to do.

At this point, when the phone hangs up. I flip it off and say something like:

“You are fucking idiots.”

I spend a good portion of my day being arrogant, bitchy and irritated during my days at The House That God Has Forgotten.

I cannot help it.

You take me for granted.

I am always there when you need something. A door opened, an elevator to push an inmate somewhere. Another elevator to throw rolling carts that carried food and garbage cans down.

How did that food that you get every Friday make it’s way from the kitchen to your little mouths when you are eating chocolate balls, or frozen and dry cinnamon rolls, or that fruit you long for every week?

Well I brought it to you.

Well… me and my colleagues.

The little people in blue that get you through your day.

Sure… we skip inmates (sort of we still have to talk to them all night when they scream and yell and ask you the same questions they do all day). Don’t get me started about promenade.

“It’s cold.” “I have to go to the bathroom” “How much longer do I/we have left?”

Every fucking single day. Just like you.

It’s hard for me to say what I have for favourites. Some people from different floors I really enjoy working with. They make me smile when I see them in the cameras or talk to them at the elevator or on the phone.

And at promenade there are people that show up when I walk up to the 12th floor that make me know that “Today is going to be a good day.”

Promenade is like Christmas. You never know what you will be getting. Sometimes a surprise that makes your day, other times you want to pull your hair out.

I like to have my radio on. It keeps me focused. Some people turn it down and it drives me crazy.

Some people stress to much and cannot multi task.

Some are slow.

And some are just boring to be around.

I like it when people share in my bravado and yell at elevators with me.

Like the people that just stared at the elevator for three minutes without saying anything. Over and over again.

The guy sitting next to me made me sound like a lamb.

I enjoyed that day at work.

I told the summer workers that it not just them that drive me the most crazy. They do not know better. And they usually listen when you correct them.

You are their mother. They do it out of fear of getting in trouble.

It is that little old lady on one floor that does the same thing everyday that drives me crazy.

Because she will never listen. She does not give a shit what I think.

And that is what makes me crazy.

Probably because I am the same way.

I perhaps take my job way too seriously, but I know if I fuck up there will be hell to pay. ISAP written. People looking at videos. Checking time stamps and if I clicked that button.

I can’t afford to miss that little fuktlarm that goes off in the middle of 50 other alarms. Because if the system crashes and I did not check it, it is my ass.

It’s not that your job is less important. I have been there.

Write the wrong thing at inskrivning and there can be real problems.

Say the wrong information to an inmate and you can send it all to hell.

We all live on a balance wire. Always having to watch our asses and not make a mistake.

So much so that we forget that we work at a place with people that do not for the most cases resolve conflict with words, but instead with actions. Usually involving fists, knives and even guns.

We are much too worried about toilet paper, but we have no choice. It is what we do.

Just look at ASAP Rocky or what the hell his name is. His tale is legendary. All of the fake problems he blames on us that are not even real.

People do not look at us like people that are going to work to support our loved ones and our children.

They look at us like power hungry sadists that were beaten up by the local grade school bully when we were kids and now are getting revenge.

I only got in one almost fight in school and that was at the university. Over a guy I dumped and that never started because 15 friends stopped me from kicking their ass.

Maybe I need a vacation. I have only one more week of work left (I was VERY stupid and did NOT take vacation this week too).

So I have 5 more shifts in The House That God Has Forgotten until I get to forget all of my passwords and codes over the summer break.

That reminds me. I need to write those down somewhere so I do not forget them (again).

I long to put all of my uniforms in the closet and not have to wash them for a month.

Maybe when I get back I would be able to answer those summer workers what floor I like.

But I doubt I would have an answer.

It will take one day for me to spin my wheels and give the telephone the finger.

To say words like “Idiot” “Asshole” “Out of their fucking minds” “Are they serious?”

It’s not your fault it’s mine.

But a vacation would be nice right now. Especially now everyone needs a break from The House That God Has Forgotten.

Some are getting it, but that is for a whole other post. For the next post.

I’m not finished yet. There is always something new to talk about.

In The House That God Has Forgotten.

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