Contract Vs. Full-Time

January 19th, 1996, 12:00 pm

(written around 1996)
You full-timers on this list all deserve a smack in the head.

All I hear is bitch, bitch, bitch.

“You contractors make too much money. It’s not fair.”

“You took an extra hour for lunch? Are you going to bill for that?!?”

“We can’t afford to keep you around for more than 6 months - it would cost the company a FORTUNE for any longer!”

“You can’t bill an extra 2 hours a day because we want you to carry a pager!”

“Wow Good Life, you got another year long renewal?!? You’re bleeding the company dry!”

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How I Got Robbed In Colombia

January 1st, 1995, 12:00 pm

(written around 1995)
If you’ve ever been on a South American bus trip through the Andes somewhere, you probably know what I mean when I say that they aren’t for the weak of heart. Distances between cities isn’t that great — it’s the fact that you have to go up a mountain and then down a mountain to get to the next spot. And the roads that take you there are usually fairly narrow, never seem to have a barrier between you and some 3000 ft. drop off, are driven by what look to be characters that live for speed and near-misses (probably ex-air force), and usually contain at least 3 times the number of legal passengers (+ livestock) that all want to sing and dance!

So here I am, arriving at the Cúcuta bus station after some ungodly long bus trip from somewhere in Venezuela. After looking through the guidebook I determined that there wasn’t a whole lot to do or see in Cúcuta, I just wanted another bus to the next town, Bucaramanga. Stepping down off the bus there’s some dodgy-looking guy shouting ‘Bucaramanga! Bucaramanga! Bucaramanga!’ (… that’s sorta fun to say fast, eh? ).

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South American Toilet Instructions

January 1st, 1995, 12:00 pm

(written around 1995)
EDITOR’S WARNING: This might get a little too graphic for some of you — if so, feel free to change the station …

Here’s my own little checklist for all those wishing to take a trip to the world’s greatest continent and eventually find themselves having to use one of their toilets. Keep in mind that this assumes that the need to go isn’t due to recently swallowing a full cup of local tap water — that would be an entirely different situation!

Here goes:

- Always take your own toilet paper in South America - chances are, the toilet you’re visiting won’t have any. A half-roll / visit should be sufficient.

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Queuing Up For a Bank Teller in South America

January 1st, 1995, 12:00 pm

(written around 1995)
Here are some do’s and dont’s of queuing up for a bank teller in South America, which will prove to be essential if you actually want to get anywhere:

- Use what you have to get ahead. If you’re tall and large (which most North Americans are compared with sudamericanos), just move your way to the front ignoring any toes you may step on, or people you have to shove out of the way. If you’re short, it’s best to maneuver your way in and out of the people, finding all the cracks and crevices you can to get ahead. If you get any comments or looks from people, just feign not being able to speak a word of Spanish.

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Freeway Anarchy in Toronto

October 8th, 2006, 9:35 pm

I’d really like to move to small-town Australia – somewhere on the west coast. I’ve never actually been to the west coast of Australia, but I think about maybe buying a nice cheap house up maybe 4 or 5 hours north of Perth and trying my luck at getting a job in a local, small-town grocery store. I could bag groceries, endlessly amusing the locals with my Canadian accent and talk about igloos and Mounted Police. To be honest, that would take a LONG time to grow thin.  The kids could go to a local Australian (obviously) school and my wife could maybe get a job at that same school. Weather would always be warm … no stress … no worries mate …

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzppppppppppppppppphhhhhhhhhtttt!!!!!

Reality check! I live in Toronto, Canada. I drive to work every day for the last 6 years on “The 407 ETR” – an ‘electronic toll road’ that costs me roughly $10 a day to go 30km each way. My car: A 1993 Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera. Please don’t laugh too loudly. Glued to the inside of my Cutlass window just below the rearview mirror is my transponder. This little hunk of plastic that almost looks like a radar detector tracks when I go on and off The 407. Without it, the system takes a picture of your plates and sends the owner a bill which includes a hefty processing fee of something like $5.50 for EACH trip. It’s worth the $11 down and $2/month for the transponder.

The 407 is the modern day version of The Wild West: there are no police, no speed limits, no photo radar, and no real rules. Yeeeeeeeehawwww! The freeway is beautifully engineered, similar to most of the cars that drive it. Because of the cost, the riff-raff is at a minimum; the ’93 Cutlass is probably one of the few heaps of shiite that you’ll see. You’ll see your fair share of Porsche’s, Range Rover’s, as well as the odd Lotus, Ferrari and Maserati.

With regard to the ‘no police’ claim I made, that’s not entirely true: I do see police sometimes sitting parked just after the archway you go over as you get on to the freeway that reads your transponder. My guess is they are going after people who’s license plates are intentionally obstructed so as to try to avoid paying the toll. These have got to be police working on the ‘rent-a-cop’ system, similar to if you own a jewelry store and rent a cop for the $100/hr or whatever it costs. Police these days don’t work proactively to reduce crime, they’re mostly driven by reactions to crimes after they happen.

I have however seen police on the 407 stopping people for speeding. But this was many years ago and I don’t remember if it was the Toronto Police, the Ontario Provincial Police (OPP) or the RCMP that were stopping people. Toronto is very confusing as to where the different police jurisdictions cross – I think that’s intentional. In total (and I’m not exaggerating), I may have seen 4 speed traps in 6 years, and not one in the last 18 months. Let’s just say you’re allowed to do whatever speed you like and nobody’s going to stop you, especially during prime time.

As for the ‘no speed limits’ claim, that’s not entirely true either. There is a posted speed limit of a MAXIMUM of 100km/hr. I joke with people I’m with that 100km/hr is only relevant during the worst of the worst blizzards when you can’t quite make out the front of your own car. Ignore it when there is no blizzard – the posted ‘MAXIMUM’ really doesn’t mean anything.

Honestly though, what is the POINT of posting a speed limit if you have no intention of policing it? I break the law EVERY DAY OF MY LIFE as I get the Cutlass up to 140-150km/hr in the fast lane to and from work. Yes, you read that figure correctly. People who drive the 407 understand that the fast lane rarely does under 140km/hr.  And I sincerely don’t think there is a problem with people going 150km/hr on a well-engineered highway. If my ’93 Cutlass can do it, newer cars can easily reach that speed. And I truly believe driving over 130km/hr keeps the driver more alert, more awake, and better concentrated on driving.

/RANT=BEGIN

What irks be BEYOND BELIEF is when people use an on-ramp to pass cars. You know what I mean: Pretend you’re driving in the far right-hand lane.  Pretend you’re approaching the on-ramp that’s being fed from Dixie Road traffic.  Now pretend as you see a car either in front or behind you dangerously hit that on-ramp lane as soon as they possibly can, flooring it right to the absolute last possible second, then using their signal to ‘politely’ merge in. Just typing this out right now is sending my blood pressure up - no pretending.

What this Andretti-like move does is slow EVERYBODY down. Whenever you have traffic merging you have a slowdown, more so during high volume times, and especially when they merge at the very last second. It does however get the bastard that made the move a few cars ahead of where he/she originally was - better pole position. They couldn’t care less if it slows down traffic – what happens behind them is background noise. It works wonders to get around a slow truck or a car that isn’t keeping bumper-to-bumper with the car ahead of them. The drivers who do this are looking out for #1, which is what we’re all told to do to get ahead in this world, isn’t it? That’s the recipe for success, isn’t it - breaking or bending the rules a little to inch ahead?

And as one of these holier-than-thou pricks, you’ll almost always get to merge right in if you pretend you’re polite – doing your shoulder check, putting your signal on, maybe waving cordially at the person that let them in.  Make them believe you actually came down that on-ramp off Dixie.  It makes me want to HEAVE. Because of that, there are growing number of people (myself included) that WATCH and WAIT for these people and INTENTIONALLY do my best NOT to let them in. It’s actually a game now with me if traffic is bumper to bumper … I’ll sit in the right lane and just watch in my right-side mirror for people using the on-ramp to get ahead. I have mastered the ability to not allow them between me and the car in front of me. You couldn’t fit a beer nut between me and the car in front of me.  It’s going to one day get me into an accident, but for now I consider it a challenge.

Where the hell are the police for the last 6 years? With all the wisdom of the ages in transportation and roads, is there absolutely nothing that can be done about this? Why doesn’t everybody use on-ramps to move ahead a few cars? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t start. And I’ll probably be asked the question: Is speeding okay, but using an on-ramp to get ahead not? Where do you draw the line?

The Wild West had vigilantes that went out and killed or severely maimed people that messed the system up for everybody. We’ve got the police. I want to move to small-town Australia where I fully intend to let EVERYONE cut in front of me. Whatever.

/RANT=END

Please drive safely. Please slow down around schools. Toronto is a city of 5 million people, but please understand that every person in every car you see has a mom, a dad, a wife, a husband, a son, a daughter, a fluffy cat, or a cute dog that love them dearly and may just rely on them.