The Humbling of An Underling

You may or may not know that for the past month I have been working as a temporary employee for Oxfam America. A job I was set to leave this Friday as the work from Christmas donations came to a close.

That was until today. As you all know yesterday at approximately 5 PM Eastern there was a 7.0 Earthquake in Port Au Prince, Haiti. A catastrophic event that has killed by the most conservative estimates over 100,000 people (amazingly the now expected toll is much closer to 50,000 updated 1/14). An event in which no one knows exactly what has happened over 24 hours later. In a time of email, the satellite phone, and super sonic jets the fact that we do not know the fate of some 3 million people is chilling.

It is because of that devastation and chaos that I get to keep my job for at least one or two more weeks.

Now do not get me wrong, I do not blame myself for a massive earthquake. I am not that narcissistic (says the man with the blog). Though I understand that it is not my fault and my good fortune is destined to help right a wrong (albeit in a very minor role), it's hard not to feel guilty and downright criminal for being able to pull a wage in such a situation. $10 an hour would go a lot further in Haiti right now than in my wallet.

If you are so inclined to donate to help the relief effort in Haiti here are a couple of links.

Oxfam America: Haiti Earthquake Response Fund

Or if that is not your cup of tea: List of Aid Organizations Operating in Haiti

Not Every Kitchen is Hell, Just the Two I've Worked In

Working in a busy kitchen is one of the most stressful environments anyone can work in. The only way one can have more stress is if they have someones life in their hands, have millions of dollars at risk, or they are getting shot at. I know what your saying, "But I have a deadline for a report for Friday", yeah well in a kitchen you have a deadline every 5 seconds and if you miss it the boss is hollering at you, which tends to add to the stress of the next order and it's all down hill from there.

A few summers ago I worked at Woodman's of Essex, the place where the fried clam was invented by a man who was not so ironically called "Chubby". Woodman's is a family run business so as a result there are something like 25 people you have to listen to. Though I may not have liked the way they treated their employees or how they seem to think you should pay for the honor of eating at a hot and sticky clam shack where you have to pick your food up at a window, I still count it as a large and fairly positive experiment in my life. For if it wasn't for Woodman's I wouldn't have learned how to fry, to mop, to wake up at 5 AM, what it's like to smell like fried food for days, or the amount of time and effort that goes into preparing a restaurant each day. Nor would I be working for Bartley's where the only reason I was hired was because "I've never worked with someone who worked at Woodman's before, so I guess I'll have to give you a try."

Bartley's is a whole different animal then Woodman's. First off I actually like the food we cook (Burgers), second, all I do is put the toppings on the food and place it in the window, no burning myself required. The biggest thing of all to me is that the guy who does all the hollering and demanding actually works in the kitchen and the kitchen would not be able to run without him. I admit it sucks getting yelled at, but when it's coming from someone who is doing something much harder than you and not just standing around dictating then there is nothing you can do but shut up and do it right.

Yeah I stand on my feet all day and yeah I get paid far less than I would if I was sitting in an office at a computer with a fraction of the stress and physical labor but in a small way it's rewarding and eye opening. Yes I will keep telling myself that.

Top 5: Things NOT to Say to an IM Official

If working for Northeastern Intramural Sports has taught me anything it has taught me how to take a whole lot of abuse from peers. As a result of that abuse I have come to look at the role of a referee in a new light as well as speculate as to how smart students who attend NU really are. What follows are 5 things you should never say to an IM official unless you are A) looking to make yourself look like an idiot or B) looking to get yourself banned from IM Sports and the Marino Center.


5. He hit me first!

Unfortunately I did not see him hit you first, if I had he would also have a penalty. And no I am not going to take your word for it, if I did that I would be calling a "penalty" on someone every 30 seconds. Besides that, did your mother never teach you about turning the other cheek and being the better person? Or maybe you learned about proportional responses? Sort of along the lines of being pushed to the ground and then turning around and slugging the guy in the face, I think that was not a proportional response on your part.

On top of that I have one set of eyes and unfortunately they both have to look in the same direction at all times. So yes I miss calls occasionally, it happens, get over it, losing a IM dodgeball game should not be up there with the murder of a family member.


4. Have you played Hockey before?

I love answering this question because in fact as a Hockey ref I have played hockey once or twice in my life (wowzers!), to be specific I have been skating since I was 2 and been playing Hockey since I was 4, so what's your next question Mr. Lipton? Do I know how to blow a whistle? Do I know how to lace up my skates properly? Do I sleep at night? Am I blind? I have a question for you: can you read? In particular the part of the rules where it says this is a "non-contact league". I don't care how hockey is played in the NHL because believe it or not this isn't the NHL and you aren't Sidney Fucking Crosby so stop whining like him and serve your two fucking minutes.

3. Shut the #%&@ Up! (and all manner of swearing thrown in my direction)

This one puzzles me; why would someone think it is all right to verbally abuse the person who controls their playing eligibility? It's liking bitching to a cop for a speeding ticket, what do you want a busted tailight and reckless driving tacked on? I can throw you out of this game for looking at me the wrong way (sadly I haven't found a pair of IM eyes I couldn't stare down) and no one from my boss to the President of the University would fault me for it. But yet you think it's ok to tell me to go fuck myself and how to do it? Do I look like the dumbest guy in the world to you? On second thought don't answer that question, just be quiet.

2. What's your name?

What are you going to do with my name? Complain to my boss about me? He likes me and he doesn't like you. More importantly he doesn't like people questioning the calls of his officials. So what on God's green earth do you think he is going to say to you, do you think he is going to fire me because my interpretation of a hooking penalty is a bit different then yours? I think not.

1. You want to fight outside after this is over?
This isn't as much of something not to say to a referee as much as it is a fear I have. I am waiting for the day when I'm walking down the street, ordering a beer at a bar, or grabbing a box of Cheeze-Its from the shelf at Shaws and suddenly someone blindsides me with their fist. And all that because they couldn't understand why I threw them out of a game for jumping over the boards and playing the role of Killer from Slapshot. It's going to happen, maybe not tomorrow and maybe not next year, but someday it is going to happen.


Just keep the audible noises from your throat to a minimum and behave like the decent human being your mother and father brought you up to be. That's all we ask.

"Recomendations" + Poor Children + The Homeless + Soldiers = 2 Weeks

I have been meaning to post this for about a week and a half now but for one reason or another I have not, sorry.

So I quit my job. Borders to be specific. I know, no more discount on books, how could I? Here's how:

Since I started working at Borders the company has been shifting it's Customer Service in store staff towards being salesmen, are new name was "bookseller". With the downturn of the economy and the retention of bankruptcy lawyers on the part of Borders they really started to tightening the screws on the entire staff to start "urging" customers to buy a specific product.

Before I went to Egypt I could handle the little bits of pressure the managers put on me and I would just shrug it off and move on with my day. Upon my return things were a little different.

What confronted me was a sign that said if any employee failed to great and "recommend" a product to every customer within 10 feet of them they would be terminated. On top of that we would each be graded for every CSI (those surveys the ask you to fill out over the phone at the register) that is issued during our shift. As well as we would be graded by a manager and asked to sign off on said grade each shift. Not to mention there are four specific products that we are supposed to be "intimate" with so we can better "recommended" them to customers (last week they were a stuffed bunny, a medical narrative about a woman with cancer, some random harcover novel about a Chinese love story, and the new Jodi Piccoult book. If I had my way I would reccomend they don't buy those things).

Throw on top of that our "charities" that we run at the register which include a stuffed bunny you can buy for $6 that we take all the profits from and then donate to the Salvation army, or the book drive that requires you to by a specific book from us that we again take the profit from and then donate at your behest, OR (my favorite) you can buy a bag of coffee beans from us for $10 and donate it to the troops oversees for which we get all the profit and you can have a free drink from our cafe.

Because you know if there is one thing our servicemen and women need in Iraq and Afghanistan it's to be hooked on bad coffee. Here's a real charity, how about we start taking money that goes to buying them more body armor or maybe to help disabled veterans recover from injuries such as missing extremities or PTSD. Preying on peoples emotions with poor children, the homeless and soldiers just to make a buck. Fuck You Borders for making me feel guilty every time I process a transaction. Shame on you.

And all this in a time of economic recession.

For those reasons I gave my two weeks notice on Saturday March 21st, and for that reason all my co-workers (some managers included) gave me congratulations. Just a little something Borders, when your employees congratulate each other about being able to quit the company it means you are doing something wrong.

On Mummy Dust

ARCE Menna Tomb

The Underling has taken another job as a minion, as a photography assistant in a dust ridden tomb in Egypt. How am I qualified for this job you may ask? The answer is, I am not, in a photography sense qualified but Katy is and as her boyfriend I am of course inclined to do as I am told. So since it was in my best interest I agreed to take on yet another role that my name alone qualifies me for.

Though this job is indeed interesting and ranks up there with some of the more interesting things in my life (oh who am I kidding, I think second on that list is a meeting at the EU) I do believe it may be hazardous to my health. I mean yes I am helping catalog a 3,500 year old tomb but the more important thing is that I am inhaling thousands of years of Mummy dust as I work.

More commonly known as "Zift", Mummy dust is basically very fine sand and dust sprinkled with a very small amount of the remains of exhumed Mummies. Now this Zift is everywhere inside the tomb, including my lungs while I bend in all different positions to place the color chart or light meter while at the same time avoid interfering with the photo or the lights, but I perservere and do as I am told like the good little Underling I am.

So if in a few years I suddenly collapse and die and the autopsy comes back with a bunch of rag fragments and millenia old chunks of body parts in my lungs, you will know why.

And yes those are my spider like fingers pictured above.

A Brief (but Lethal) History of Broomball

Broomball is a very large part of my life, not necessarily a part of my life that I particularly care about, but a large part all the same. I decided that you the readers should know a little more about what I spend most of my weeknights doing.

Pertaining to the NU version, Broomball is an absurd game that places many ill-footed individuals on a slippery surface, only to have them run willy nilly, this way or that way. The result is many a bruised body and ego.

Though all in all the results are never much worse than something that can be treated with a band aid or an ice pack. Never are they fatal.

But that has not always been the case, back in the days of yore when the game was known as Knattleikr to Icelanders, it was not uncommon for a Viking or two to die during game play. These ancient Broomball matches were usually played between whole villages and were known to last for up to 14 days.. Writer Hord Grimkellson once witnessed a game between Strand and Botn in which "before dusk, six of the Strand players lay dead, though none on the Botn side."

Now that is a version of Broomball I would be happy to officiate.

The Grumbling Effects of Hurricane Underling

Because of dinner at the Top of the Hub Restaurant (thanks to a $250 gift card from Katy's boss) and a trip to the Symphony (which we left early because we were falling asleep) we got to dress up yesterday and decided to test out Katy's photo equipment one last time (which resulted in that finger pointing outwards from your screen) before we head to Egypt (yes I'm going to Egypt next week). As a result of this and work (Borders and Broomball the past two days) our apartment looks like this:


(Warning: For all of you who have visited this apartment and remarked on how clean it looks, this may come as a bit of a shock to you. All those with heart conditions, avert your eyes)



And because we are going to see M. Ward tonight (at the Somerville Theater), and I have work Thursday and Friday one should not expect this to start looking cleaner any time soon. So if you thought about breaking in and stealing something I suggest you turn on the lights first.

Manliness takes a critical hit!

The things I do for my employee discount.....

Of inner city lakes, beer and Eric Lindros

I have said it before and I will say it again, I should have gone to school in Florida.

I know you people in Alaska, Minnesota, Canada, and Siberia (Scandinavia your standard of living is too high to complain) experience terribly cold winters, and I am sorry for that but you have nothing on New England weather. We may not get many below zero days as you do but in all do respect 33 degrees and sleeting is the worst experience in the world.

Yesterday started out as a decent winter day, high 20s and snowing. I'm ok with that, because snow is not wet, unless you get it inside your clothing. Of course the day didn't stay that way, not in land of 75 degree days in January! Oh no, because when I emerged from Spanish it was sleeting! I'm fine with the sleet itself, so what if I get soaked to the bone but at the same time I'm turning blue with cold, it's really the lakes that develop along the sides of each street. Lakes varying from 1 inch to 1 foot deep and because of all the icebergs floating on the surface you have no idea how deep they are until your leg is halfway submerged.

Needless to say the Odyssey back home, back to NEU, and then back home again was fairly taxing. On the journey I went through two coats, a pair of gloves, countless socks, two sweatshirts, and a pair of pants. Terrible right? Couldn't possibly get worse right?

Wrong!

Because that is only half of why days like yesterday are terrible. Days like yesterday include above freezing temperatures and rain which leads to the washing away of all the salt laid down throughout the course of the day. Then, as night arrives, the temperatures drop below freezing and because of the non-existent salt every surface freezes over. Including the sidewalk in front of my apartment.

Well as all of you know I supervise Broomball most nights during the week. This requires me to leave my apartment at about 9:30 PM.

Leave at precisely 9:30 PM I did just that, and about 9:31 PM I found myself lying flat on my back staring up at some guy with a case of beer in his hand saying "are you all right?"

Now this has happened only once before in my life (staring up from my back into someones face wondering how I got myself into such a predicament), and that is when I was 6. What happened? Let's just say there is a reason why at the YMCA pool (and most pools for that matter) they have signs that say RUNNING IS NOT PERMITTED.

Of course this time I got right up, made a few jokes with the guy about the ice and how maybe I should go get a case of beer and call in. Then I walked (carefully) down to Marino and made light of what happening, worked and then went home to sleep.

I'm starting to think that that last part was probably not a smart idea, because ever since the fall my head has been hurting quite a bit and I don't distinctly remember falling last night (just the lying on my back). Which would lead me to believe that I have a concussion, albeit probably a very minor one (still you shouldn't sleep after a concussion). If that was indeed a concussion like I think it was that would bring my total concussion total up to 5 (that being said only one two were severe in my opinion and two, including the one last night, are suspect).

In order they are:

- Pool incident (severe)
- Falling off of a 6 foot wall and slamming my head against the side walk and left me puking all night
- Being hit so hard into the boards in hockey that I blacked out for a few seconds (severe)
- Passing out while going pee in my upstairs bathroom, which resulted in me waking up with a pulsating skull from my head striking the toilet. The fainting occurred because I was immobile for about 2 hours or so watching Man on Fire (great movie) and then suddenly standing up and running up the stairs to go the bathroom.
- Finally last nights fall.

I'm a regular Eric Lindros aren't I?

That being said if I end up being a vegetable thanks to all my concussions New England weather can be partially to blame and can expect a phone call from my lawyer.

Three Things I Learned Today

1. Paul McCartney needs to stop making music.

2. Bob Dylan needs to stop making music.

3. And Bruce Springsteen forgot how to write lyrics that make sense.

You know, I think I like it here.

Last Sunday was probably one of my more enjoyable Sundays at Borders. Thanks to a slowing economy and some poor weather conditions there was close to no one in the store. Fewer customers in the store lends itself to much more employee fraternization, and if you ever tool the time to admire the quality of your local Borders employees then you can imagine the types of conversations.

Thanks two a certain keyboardist playing in the Cafe last Sunday these conversations were never ending. The man was bad, I mean terrible, at playing the keyboard, something that was only surpassed in the awful realm by his inability to put a string of decent lyrics together.

He was this tall skinny guy with 18 inches or so of hair, who hailed from the UK and was touring the state side Borders. Did you catch that word, I said "touring", like flying around the states on his own dime to peddle his wares (homemade)and sing his (and Cold Play's) songs. The person in the Borders event scheduling office must have a sadistic sense of humor because if he sells 10 cds then he'll be lucky.

Now if my day from there on out had been boring I would have chalked it up as a win and moved on, well it was not boring.

Literally seconds after the keyboardist packed up his things a short middle aged woman came up to me and said; "Hi! I'm Jackie Kessler! The author! Can I sign my books?!"

My internal reaction:
First of all lady, take a deep breath and calm down because unfortunately I don't speak crazy talk. Second I don't know anyone by the name Jackie Kessler, so it's a good thing you pointed out that you are not just any Jackie Kessler but in fact the the author Jackie Kessler. And third. do I look a manager to you? Or do you just think we let crazy people who claim to be authors run around and sign books?

Well apparently we do, because my manager had no problem with it and after the crazy author signed all 7 of her books she handed me a heart shaped stress ball with her name and website on it.

Good day right? Not over!

Now at my particular Borders there is this type of bouncy ball that we sell that is basically a bouncing snow globe; a ball filled with liquid and snow like particles enveloped by a paper thin encasing. The fact that it does not break open is mind boggling, and we have done many things to see if it will break. Well on this particular day the back wall was completely bare, no shelving, no posters, nothing. So I decided that at the end of the shift I would play a little wall ball with one of my co-workers to see if the ball could withstand it. And lo and behold it did! We even were hitting the little metal pegs that stick out of the wall and nothing!

On top of that I bought Bukowski. Good day.

Being the Boss Man

I have a confession to make; I like being the boss, I really do.

I know this blog is supposed to be about how I serve the man and do not have a sliver of autonomy anywhere in my working life, well that was true, then I got promoted.

Though I got promoted in the fall last night it all came to a head. Part of my promotion is that I am the “New Hires Coordinator” which means any problem that the 15-20 new kids we hired have, it is my responsibility to deal with it. Translation: Kevin has this weird mentor, boss type image in the eyes of these impressionable young men and women.

As interesting as that new position is it is not nearly as fun as being told by my boss that I am “too hands on” as a hockey/broomball supervisor. Translation: Kevin is doing a lot of delegating from the bench this semester. This of course went flawlessly last night. Everyone I told to do something, did it and with smiles on their faces. Though that may have been because of the four new people they all got to show up and make fun of, but we’ll see how it goes this evening.

This whole “Boss” thing is still quite new to me, and something I will keep you updated on as it progresses.

Twitter me this.

So my check bounced today. Not just any old check, but a check from the City of Boston. A payroll check for close to $200. I was kind of counting on that money, money that I was given counter credit for. So what I'm really saying is is that this is not cool. Because I no longer work at the BRA this is going to cause me to call my boss on Monday and ask her to help me deal with this instead of me emailing HR from my office email which would have been much easier. Also I was expecting another $200 check to come in tomorrow which now I will be worried it will bounce.

I mean how does the City of Boston using Paychex bounce a fucking check? How is that possible? I mean I know I was the lowest of the low in my department and if anyone is going to miss out on money it's going to be the kid who USED to work there, but come on.

Sorry I just couldn't adequately describe my frustration in a Tweet.

The thing about Co-Op is.....

They don't prepare you for the transition from the working world back to classes. They do everything in their power to push you out into the real world with a Co-Op but when you return you are expected to assimilate back into campus like you never left. Don't get me wrong, I love the Co-Op program and it is the reason why I decided on Northeastern over a much more affordable state school but there is nothing quite like the transition that takes place between the two spheres. For myself it has been over a year since a attended a class at Northeastern, what with my Co-Op and before that my study abroad program in Belgium I haven't set foot in a Northeastern classroom since last December.

A week ago I was waking up 5 days a week taking the T to my office and getting paid for 8 hours a day. Now I have class from 9 - 3 (which I pay for, instead of getting paid) in which I do more work than I would have on Co-Op. On top of that I will have homework which will fill up more of my time as well as a need to fill the void of my meager, yet weekly, BRA paycheck with hours of harder work at Borders and about equal difficulty (not saying much) work as an IM official. I never thought I would say this but being in the real world is significantly less stressful and much less physically demanding than being a student.

Many of you (many is not a word to describe the amount of readers I have but it's in the past now and we all know there is no going back) may scoff at such a notion but consider this. Every day I am incurring more debt through payments via loans to Northeastern and accruing interest on past loans while at the same time I am trying to pass the classes I am paying for the privilege to attend. On top of which I am working two jobs trying to keep from having to take out loans to afford to live on my own and feed myself.

As opposed to life working 40 hours a week. You go to work at 9, work, punch out at 5 and come home. No homework, no second job, just life. Granted it's not as easy as I just made it sound, but there is no University expense on top of that.

To put it bluntly, my lifestyle just changed overnight from a member of the global economy to a student with not enough time in the day to get by and my University, and life for that matter, expects me to just roll with it.

An Everlasting Peace.

The Underling is officially no longer an employee of the City of Boston.

It should be noted that in his final hours in office he was able to successfully engineer a long and everlasting peace between himself and the Coke Machine on the condition that he never attempt to purchase a Coke from the Machine again.

Top Five: The Day of Days

The Underling does not enjoy last days at all. They make him paranoid, antsy, and above they bring about his Catholic Guilt. So in honor of his last day working for the BRA we are proud to bring you the Underlings top five most awkward/memorable last days. Today we will actually go in reverse to build up some excitement and intrigue!


5. Tie between working for my father and Northeastn Intramurals. I am still off an on with both so this doesn't really count but I needed a #5.

European Parliament: Stagiere to Pawel Piskorski:
There was really nothing awkward about this day other than the hug and good bye with Weronika and the obvious absence of my boss. What really hit me about this day was that I was leaving Belgium shortly there after, a place I could have spent the rest of my life and been happy about it. A very emotional day, the most emotional last day I have had, to say the least.

Enos Marine:
My first job ever and coincidentally it was my first last day ever! This last day was awkward because my boss thought that I should work for 2 more weeks and then go to college. I on the other hand thought that I needed two weeks to get my shit together and fully deal with the fact that I was moving on. She thought it was irresponsible, I thought it was normal. Regardless to this day it is difficult to talk to my old boss when I take my father's boat out.


Secretary of the Commonwealth Corporations Division:
I consider this awkward because I avoided saying good bye to every member of the Corporations division (40 people) on my way out. How I did that I have no clue, but it was glorious.

Woodman's of Essex:
This job takes the cake when it comes to awkward memorable last days. All in all it was a few last days wrapped into one because of all the titles I held here. What makes it so memorable is that at Woodman's it is tradition to be thrown into the lobster tank out front on your last day. I was no exception. The entire day I was a nervous wreck waiting to be thrown into the tank (which is something like 40 degrees Fahrenheit) while my co-workers kept snickering at me and making gestures that implied that I would be getting really wet later that evening.

Now I'm a good guy and if I don't say so myself a rather cute one, something that worked in my favor at Woodman's because at least half of the workers are High School girls. And on my last day that worked in my favor. With a few minutes before close a couple of the girls told me to leave and that they would punch me out so I could avoid getting dunked in the tank. I took them up on their offer and was out the door only to realize I forgot my regular shoes, which I had to go back for. That of course was my undoing. I was immediately grabbed and dragged out to the tank, at this point I decided I would not go down without a fight. I kicked my legs and swung my arms breaking someones glasses and knocking someone else to the ground, but to no avail, I went in the tank. I then drove home without any pants on.

My plan of leaving early would not have worked btw because earlier that day the other guys in the kitchen went out and blocked me in with their cars. That would have brought upon a situation where I would have waited out my co-workers until the wee hours of the morning then would have snuck off and called someone to come pick me up. Oh if only that had happened.

From The Archive: The Meeting Take 1

The Underling continues to prepare for his departure from the BRA and because of that he has no time to post. Therefore you lucky few will be entertained by yet another post from the Underlings days working at the EU Parliament. Yes this was previously posted somewhere else and we apologize yet again for the lack of original work up on the blog but we do have in text comments written by the Underling himself (they are key to your expanding knowledge of life). And if you haven't read it before then it is all new! Enjoy!

As always this color delineates a new comment.

Today my MEP was called away to Poland for an urgent reason (The longer my internship went the more I doubted this was a real excuse, but if in fact there was an emergency then I apologize), even though he had an important meeting to attend. So that meant his assistant Weronika (in Polish Ws are Vs) and I got to attend in his stead as well as I was allowed to take notes (sounds like it is a privilege or something). Needless to say I was excited, and no matter what they talked about in this meeting I was going to be hanging on every terribly butchered English word spoken (word to those who try and speak in English when you cannot, just let the translator translate it makes it so much easier for you to prove your point when someone who knows English much better than you is converting said point into English, just give in).

So I walked in and directly to my left there were a pile of sandwiches and an assortment of juices and waters, and yes everyone including interns could take them (oh what a scavenger the Euro turned me into)! So I grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of water and sat down at a chair that had a microphone (like I would have used it, though I had to do everything to restrain myself from turning it on and just making a noise of some kind into it) and translation headset at it and proceeded to pass the time by talking to Weronika about how she got mugged by Gypsies (which marked the second person I knew to ever be mugged and both in the same month) while at the same time a bunch of important looking people in suits filed into the room (no way I was wearing anything near a suit on that day, I doubt I was even wearing a tie but I mean my MEP always wore jeans and a Polo shirt to work, so obviously I couldn't show up my boss by wearing a suit to work I was just doing my duty as an intern).

Suddenly the meeting started and I began to take notes. Immediately the comedy of the EU Parliament started to come pouring out of every possible orifice , one of the MEPs attending made a fool of himself by calling one of his fellow sponsors a member of his own party (the Socialist Party) when in fact he wasn't and guessing by the laughter and disgusted looks his party is no where near the same in ideology. The "forgetful" MEP tried to play it off as a joke, but he failed, miserably.

Now what ensued was pure comedy. The sponsoring MEPs invited a bunch of lobbyists and concerned citizens, announcing that the purpose of the meeting was to "bring government and the people together." Right off the bat you knew that was bullshit because the remaining guests belonged to the EU Commission, the real target. The dialogue went something like this:

MEP: "We would like to thank the EU Commission for coming today to take part in todays session."

EU Commission: "Whatever"

MEP: "We would like to express are gratitude for your service and expertise"

EU Com: "Get to the point before I stop faking like I respect you"

MEP: "But we come here today because we feel that we can improve the Emergency Response Service so that it works flawlessly"

EU Com: "You want my job? You can have it" Flips over the table and storms out of the room.

I can not illustrate enough how little respect the EU Commission has for the Parliament in these meetings. They act like I did my senior year of High School in respect to my parents authority; everything was up for debate including what color the sky was.

It of course was much more cordial and consisted of dialogue loaded with rhetoric, spite and contempt. It was all good fun.

The rest of the meeting was not all that interesting except for the "Forgetful" MEP who kept insulting America and using bad information but I didn't mind because American politicians still call French Fries, Freedom Fries because of the policies of the French government even though French Fries are Belgian. So all ignorance is forgiven.

Every time I re-read this post I kick myself for not making it a running diary, government meetings hold so much unintentional comedy that they all deserve running diaries, something I try and do whenever possible.

From The Archive: The Boss

The Underling is furiously inputting payrolls that he has neglected for the past six months of his internship and because of that he has little time to post (maybe he should have worked more and posted less in the past month or so). In leu of his absence we shall be running a few posts from his EU internship that were originally posted at The Doyle Opinion. We apologize if you have already read this post and you can just disregard it if you didn't like it the first time. But like all the other reposts this one will come with commentary from the Underling himself. Enjoy!

As always this color delineates commentary.

Mr Pawel B. Piskorski is my boss, he hails from Warsaw Poland where he used to be the Mayor. I have met my boss a grand total of four times (I think this was the last time I didn't even get hte obligatory "You did a great job" on my last day), shook his hand three times and my longest conversation happened during this encounter:

I walk into the office
Weronika: Good-morning Kevin, how was your weekend? (picture a heavy Polish accent)
Me: It was fine, how was yours?
Weronika: Good.
And then she jerks her head in the direction of my bosses office. I continue the conversation, a little bit puzzled as to why Weronika had jerked her head, I settle for it being that my boss is in today unlike last week.
I sit down, boot up the computer, the phone rings, Weronika answers, normal morning. Then she hangs up and says in a hushed tone.
Weronika: Um, Kevin....you should probably go in and say hi to the boss.
I say that I will, and as I am getting up and making my 3.5 meter trip to my bosses desk I start to freak out and wonder what the hell did I do? I have a guilty conscious all the time, when ever the situation can remotely call for me to be reprimanded I think the worst and today was no different. I move through the doorway that brings me to the boss’s office thinking that I must have embarrassed Mr. P in some fashion, maybe my hair is to long, who knows.
Me: Good Morning sir.
Looking up with the smile he always seems to have when he speaks with me, which is not a good sample size to judge his mood because I have spoken so few times with the man, for all I know he could be incredibly angry....

This was probably the biggest difficulty I had with living and working in Belgium, I could never read some ones mood. Either their English was just not good enough for them to express themselves or the way they expressed their mood through non-verbal means (facial expressions, or body language) just did not translate. I never knew if Weronika was happy, sad, angry or annoyed, I always had to guess.

Boss: Good Morning, how are you doing?
Me: I’m fine sir, how about yourself?
Waiting for the other shoe to drop.......
Boss: I am well.
And then we had one of those moments where, just like when my mom grabs one of my brothers and makes them talk to me on the phone when they are unprepared, where you have nothing to say and then you suddenly realize it and you have no idea what to do (My dad loves to do that to me and I'm just glad that my brothers feel just as awkward about it and refuse the phone from him). So with that the boss smiled and looked back down at his work, and I kinda just shuffled back to my desk wondering what the hell just happened?

This one interaction with my boss is a microcosm of my internship as a whole. I did very little, was asked to do very little at that, and when I was asked to do something it was awkward, easy and pretty much pointless.

And We're Back with some Grumblings

Well after an action packed Christmas that made my Christmas post seem almost prophetic I am back to my blogging ways. The events of Christmas do need to be noted in some form but I do not know in what type of medium to bring it to you. All in good time though.

In other news Eric's birthday proved to be uneventful by Eric/Danny standards. Though I did have my first scorpion bowl which proved to be both tasty and dangerous. Because of work today I made an early exit to ensure I would not be hungover while serving the book loving populace.

Speaking of which today I get to work for 4 hours, that is down from 8. I kind of hope that is a mix up and not a permanent thing because if I am working 4 hour shifts once or twice a week that may prove to be a problem. Stay tuned.

I also attended the Nutcracker yesterday with Katy, which involved two bars and roughly 4 beers over a few hour span. Needless to say I enjoyed myself.

Lastly my Co-Op with the BRA will be ending this Wednesday (sad face) which means some awkward good byes and a shift in life priorities which means blogging will either skyrocket or cease because of a workload. I'm hoping for the former.

Normally this is where on most blogs people wish you a happy New Year and say that they have a whole bunch of fun things planned for their readers in 2009 (weird to think this decade is almost over already). Well I have nothing planned for you, I'm sorry. You will just have to trust that I will come up with things on the fly or make the old things that much more enjoyable to keep pace. Regardless I hope you continue to come back in 2009, I will still be here, I hope.

Office Appliances

I'm about ready to go Michael Bolton on about 10 different pieces of Office Equipment right now.

Why is it that all Office Equipment (at least all Office Equipment I have ever worked with) either is incredibly outdated (my computer), makes a high pitched screech (the copier) or simply refuses to work the way it is supposed to (no specific example because everything here malfunctions). I mean really I should have two screens, a faster processor and 1 GB of ram on this thing and my job would be far easier, cheaper and propably eliminate another employee. It's infuraiating.

The real source of my anger is the copier which occasionally makes this really high pitched sound that would drive a dog insane. The first time it took me 20 minutes to locate it and then shut down the machine. Now I only have to get up and shut the machine off everytime it happens because I know who the culprit is. But still I want to bring a baseball bat in to work.