Archive for the ‘Personal Story’ Category
Tuesday, April 1st, 2008 |
Make-work programmes are worse than outright social security handouts, because people think they’re working when they’re wasting time. - BC Pires
We’ll get back to this quote in a little bit. I got back the internet this past Thursday after not having it for about two weeks. Not having access to the internet when I want it is not as bad as going without current or water, but it’s still quite distressing. You never really know how much you value it till it’s gone.
Anyway, I’ve been dying to share with you something I saw just before school closed for Easter. There’s a primary school near where I live that makes use of a bunch of URP workers. My guess would be about 10 or so of them which is easy to estimate since they’re usually sitting together in the shade talking and laughing scandalously i.e. they hardly ever seem to be working.
So one day I was looking out towards the school and I saw three of them doing work for a change, but the manner in which they were doing it was so ridiculous I couldn’t stop watching. Apparently picking up trash in a school yard is such an intricate and unwieldy assignment that it takes no fewer that three URP women working in tandem to accomplish this task - you’d think they were manning a bob sled or piloting Mr. Solo or something.
So these three people were walking together picking up trash in the school yard after recess. One walked with a garden rake, the next a long-handled dust pan and the last armed herself with a trash can. As they came upon a piece of trash URP Woman A places her dust pan in front of the trash while URP Woman B nudged it into the scoop. URP Woman B then completes the trash removal act by emptying the contents of the scoop into (you guessed it) the trash can carried by URP woman C. Rinse and repeat.
Well I was in awe. I never knew that trash collecting required so much manpower. And to think that I reenslave myself everytime my dogs make a mess in the yard. All kicks aside, there is something so obscene about seeing that the other day. What a complete waste of time, money and manpower. 
Whatever happened to someone walking around with stick and a bag? That’s all it takes! I know that we here in T&T are not as technologically advanced as other countries, but for goodness’ sake we could put together a sharp stick and a bag. And the point isn’t really that they are making a mountain out of a mole hill, it’s that they really don’t have anything to do. This is why I put up that quote from an article that BC Pires wrote
(that can be found here in its entirety). I have to agree with him, this can’t be work. How can this be work? The scary thing is that these women probably think that they’re actually making a honest day’s wage, which if you really think about it really skews the debate on adequate compensation.
So how many URP women does it take to pick up a candy wrapper? The answer is not as funny as you would think.
(Before anyone accuses me of being sexist, I should tell you that all the workers at this school are women.)
Posted in Infrastructure, Personal Story, Social Issues | 9 Comments »
Wednesday, November 21st, 2007 |
So hear what happen to me yesterday morning nah. I was walking down the street and I saw this schoolboy trying to cross the road. He probably wasn’t over six years old. So this boy is trying to cross the road and from looking at him, it’s hard to tell if anyone has ever taught him how. Mr. Man was was making repeated attempts to dart across the road without ever looking left. The entire time traffic is coming in a steady stream from the left and he is totally oblivious to it. So I shout out, “Aye boy, hol’ on, hol’ on!”
So he stops and I go stand up next to him. I tell him. “Hold on, eh, I will tell you when it safe to cross”.
Now Mr. Man is tiny and with me standing next to him and looking at the traffic, I can’t see him standing all the way down there. The only thing I didn’t do, which I should have done, was to hold him still. So he’s standing to my left and my head is turned to the right looking at the stream of traffic coming. All of a sudden I hear people yelling and tire squealing. I whip my head around to see a two-tonne truck and a maxi taxi screeching to a halt with a little school boy in the center of the road. So I was like, “Wait nah? That is not the same little boy I was helping?” I look down to my left and no schoolboy. I look up again to see the little school boy jump onto the sidewalk unharmed. Meanwhile there is still yelling going on and I realize it’s coming from the six or so men sitting in the tray of the two-tonne truck. The only audible words I hear comes from an angry-looking dougla man who stands up in the tray, points accusingly at me and shouts, “AND HE FADA STAND UP RIGHT DEY!”.
I’m thinking, “He fada? Me?”
I didn’t say anything to him partly because of the shock, partly because he looked like he wanted to beat me and partly because I looked and felt guilty. Any excuse coming from me would have sounded like a lie.
So the tuck starts moving again and angry dougla man sits back down and continues to glare at me. I turn and continue along my way and it dawns on me that they very thing I was trying to avoid almost happened and I got blamed for it.
Posted in Personal Story | 14 Comments »
Tuesday, June 19th, 2007 |
The last time I ventured into The Wiz computers on Edward Street I was summarily ignored. All I wanted was 40′ of crossover cable and to go along my merry way, except the store attendants had no way of knowing that since none of them ever asked me what I needed. You would think that the sight of a lone man standing awkwardly in their store would have convinced a store clerk to ask me if i was being helped - maybe it would have encouraged him to let me know that he was going to be right with me. You might even be so adventurous to think that the two store clerks playing Doom on the PCs would have paused the game in favour of making a sale. However, I have to admit that from the time I walked in there, the clerks took a keen interest in ignoring me. I was dodged, sidestepped and my eye contact unsolicited.
Twenty minutes into the whole thing I began deliberately standing in the way. The way I saw it, a regular man has a maximum of one superpower. Either he was invisible or immaterial, but not both. I made my wager and stood in the way, and I was partially right.
No one asked me to get out of the way and no one asked me to step aside, but people did bump into me. I was glad for the discovery, but I still badly needed my crossover cable. Plus, after 35 minutes of standing in one spot, I was beginning to get restless. In addition to this, finding another store that sold crossover cable cut to my specifications meant walking over to Frederick street and hunting for one.
I resorted to flagging down a dreadlocked clerk, but he was busy helping a woman who came just 2 minutes ago so I had to wait 10 minutes. Eventually he came, said “Yeah meh boy?” and I was able to ask for my cable. Surprisingly in the world of The Wiz, measuring, cutting and crimping 40′ of cable takes almost half an hour. Being the Trini I was, I happily took the cable and left the store - feeling as I left that I had worked harder than the clerk to get. After an experience like that it’s hard not to feel demoralized as a consumer as well as a little ashamed of oneself for spending money at a store that ignores you till you sit up and beg.
You may think that I was a glutton for punishment if I told you that I went back to the Wiz yesterday for the first time since that last cable-hunting episode, and you’d be partially right. This time I was in the market for a printer - and not just any old printer, but a good colour laser printer. Anyone knows that a laser printer can leave a dent in your wallet, but I had done my research and I was prepared for it. Sometimes there is a little bit of insanity in Trinidad when it comes to pricing. Of course, looking around is the hard and fast rule when it comes to saving, but sometimes I’m not ready for what that brings. One place had the printer for $3000, another place in Trincity had it for $3,500 and an ad in the Sunday Guardian had the printer for $3,999. I don’t know about you, but I am human, and I wasn’t going to spend more money than I had to because of pride. And besides, denial about my previous experience was already starting to set in and somehow I remembered the store being busier, and the dreadlocked clerk a little more harried than I gave him credit for. In any case I wanted to test my theory that it was a one-off experience and I shouldn’t try to typify the store on the basis of that one experience - that would be stereotyping and stereotyping’s wrong. So off to see the Wiz.
I walk into the store and there is one middle-aged guy standing at the register while one clerk tries to ring him up. There is another clerk seated by a desk by the door talking on a phone. There is a third behind the counter looking hard at work on a computer, he is the only one who doesn’t look up when I come through the door. Best of all, the computers that were on display are no longer there so at least those can’t be used against me. So I stand and I wait and I wait. I decide that I’m going to give them ample time to redeem themselves, so while I I won’t try to flag anyone down, I was going to try to make eye contact with one of the clerks. So I wait and I wait. I’m standing close to the guy getting rung up because I figure that he’ll be soon on his way and I’ll be next in line. Not so. For some reason the retard at the register can’t seem to ring the man up. Soon after I come in, he (the customer) tells the man that he has someone waiting on him in the car, so I assume he’s been there for a while. But that doesn’t seem to help because I believe he’s still there standing at the counter with his items by the time I leave.
Next a couple comes in looking at the digital cameras, the guy who was on the computer actually attends to them and goes into the back to get a few printouts of camera specifications. Now that his concentration is broken, does he attend to me? Wrong again. He goes back to his computer. Another clerk comes out of the back room and glances at me, but decides to pick up a copy of the Express instead and sits behind the counter to catch up on his reading. So I stand there looking at the man, not because I ‘m trying to make eye contact, but because I’m in disbelief. Tow other guys emerge from the back room and announce to the clerk wrangling with the cash register that they were going for lunch. At this point I’ve been standing there for over a half hour and I wonder if this is some joke being played on me.
A few minutes later the clerk puts down his paper and picks up his cell phone and starts text-messaging. When he’s done with that, he gets up and starts wandering around the store. Yes. All the while yuh boy still stand up there. He reaches a stool by the door and sits there. Then another young would-be customer in work clothes comes into the store and starts looking around. Would you believe Mr. Reader asks him if he “getting through”? They proceed to have a mini conversation and then the guy leaves. Clerk resumes his spot on the stool. It’s been well over 45 minutes now and middle aged guy at the cash register is steupsing now as his items are still unbagged and spread out on the counter. Actually he has begun to look outside as if he’s thinking about leaving. I start thinking how nice it would be if I were a bandit who could rob this store on principle - but that would be wrong. Plus it would me silly to rob an establishment where the register hasn’t been functioning.
It’s been well over 45 minutes now and I have decided to leave. But hark! Mr. Reader makes eye contact with me and nods his head towards me (he doesn’t even have the courtesy to speak or even apologise for my wait). I think, “you know what, I’ll just go ahead and ask my questions”. But alas, Mr. Reader doesn’t know jack. Everything I ask him, he relays to Faizal (which turns out to be the name of the register-wrangler).
Me: You all have any all-in-one laser printers?
Him: Nah.
Me: So what about this one over here?
Him: Oh ho! Faizal, how much for this all-in-one here?
Faizal: $6,800
Me: (That’s way over my budget) What other laser printers allyuh have?
Him: Those there (points to a wall piled high with printers).
At this point, I figure if he doesn’t know the prices of the printers he’s not going to know specs. So I decide to take down model numbers and prices just in case. Every time I asked Mr. Reader the price of a printer, he called Faizal. What’s the price of this one? Faizal! And what about that one? Faizal! I began to think that Faizal was some ghost who was being summoned by Mr. Reader the clairvoyant. I wanted to to ask the clairvoyant if I could just talk to Faizal directly, but Faizal was just about to lose a sale and I didn’t want to bother him. To make things worse, Mr. Reader has the worst etiquette of any sales clerk I have ever met. He sits and reclines on a chair while I am talking to him and really doesn’t show an interest in helping me even after telling him I am in the market for a pricey laser printer.
After I take down four prices, I open the door and leave the store without saying thank you. Thanks for what? Here I am coming to spend money in your store and not a single person attends to me? No one notices me? Is it that I didn’t look like I had any money? Why is it that customer service in Trinidad has to be so poor? Needless to say, I was disgusted and disappointed with the experience and I will never again set foot in any branch of The Wiz Computers again.
P.S. - My friend Andy that he still has one up on me. He was ignored at a kiosk at Trincity Mall. How do you get ignored at a kiosk, you ask? I’m sure there are other methods, but this one is proven. Stand in line while one clerk helps the customer before you. The other clerk will sit so that she can’t see you. When the first clerk is done with the customer she will pick up her cell phone and begin talking leaving you unattended. Stand there and look blankly, but don’t make any sudden movements. Presto!
The pressure I was under previously has now subsided, so I am back full time. Those who have e-mailed me, please expect responses soon. You will notice that I was forced to enable comment moderation. Forgive me for that, I just had to do it after some recent episodes - there are some people who just don’t get it.
Posted in Corporate, Personal Story | 18 Comments »
Wednesday, May 30th, 2007 |
Anyway Trinis, have a good day and I’ll get back to you hopefully before the week is out.
Posted in Blogging, Miscellaneous, Personal Story | 13 Comments »
Monday, April 23rd, 2007 |
I never paid much attention to Brian Lara or to cricket for that matter till the Government proclaimed a national holiday in honour of Lara’s 277 against Australia in Sydney. I didn’t know the first thing about cricket back then, but I was grateful to anyone who made it possible for me to miss a day of school. It was only after that that I became interested in Brian Lara or cricket for that matter. After all, if this man has such an influence on whether or not I have to go to school, I had better pay attention to him.
And so my entire cricketing experience has always included Lara. It’s because of Lara that the numbers 277, 375, 400 and 501 bring me immense pride. If I started watching a Windies game late, the question that always needed asking was, “Has Lara batted yet?”. 76-3 means very little if Lara still hadn’t batted. Century, double century, no problem. Hayden took his record away? No big deal, he’ll get it back. See what I told you? I told you he could do it.
I’ll tell you something, starting to watch cricket when Lara was king was probably the worst thing any newbie could do.
And now, for someone who has equated cricket with Lara their entire life, there is a huge deficit where Lara once stood at the crease, stood in the slips, and directed men around the field. News of his retirement hit me like an unexpected death. Now that he has retired, I feel abandoned. It’s almost like I was led into a great, big forest and left for dead. Of course through Lara I have gained a great respect for the game and an admiration for other players, but I was brought to this place by Lara and it’s kind of hard trying to imagine staying here without the man.
I don’t know. Maybe I’m overreacting and maybe it will all be OK when the tour of England begins, but it definitely won’t be the same.
Posted in Cricket, Personal Story, Sports | 5 Comments »
Tuesday, March 6th, 2007 |
‘Tis so sad to make familiar mistakes.
 |
| Harry Mungalsingh (Express Photo) |
He was wrong. He said he was caught up in the heat of the moment (although he was reading from a script at the time) He’s sorry, however. But he was fired (as he should have been). Kudos to the UNC for acting quickly and decisively.
But what got me, is how could a man be so emboldened (to use Dubya’s word) to say what he did? Do people really think and talk like this? Was this a bad joke that Mungalsigh mistook for a good idea.
Although I’m not entirely sure about the topic, this reminds me of a conversation I had with a friend of mine a while back. I think he was talking to me about Hinduism and was trying to illustrate to me some Hindu philosophy or something like that. Anyway, he was telling me about a question he had asked his pundit about crime and the answer his pundit gave. The question was, “Since people who commit crime seem to come from certain areas, would it be ethical to seal of their communities and prevent them from mixing with the rest of us?”
“No,” the pundit says, “you can’t do that because blah, blah, blah.”
After he related the pundit’s answer, he smiled gleefully as though he had laid a golden egg right there in front of me.
The reason I use the “blah, blah, blah there is not to disrespect the pundit or his answer, I think I remember it being right and fitting, but to be honest I can’t really remember it because I was still stuck on the question. I sat there thinking, “you’ve had thoughts about walling-off communities? Who are you? Have I really known you for 20 years?”
And so when it comes to Mungalsing, it’s the thought that counts. While the question is disturbing in itself, it’s Mungalsingh’s thoughts I’m troubled by. Who else thinks like this?
Read Atillah Springer’s thoughts on the matter.
Posted in Crime, Personal Story, Race, Social Issues, UNC | 6 Comments »
Monday, January 8th, 2007 |
I told you all a while back that I was one of three Trinidadians that didn’t own a cell phone. Well that changed about two weeks ago when my uncle decided to send me his old phone because he got a better one. Only yesterday did I find out that what I had was actually a “MeToo” phone”. What’s a MeToo phone? Follow the telephone conversation I had with my 14 year old cousin.
Caris: I thought you told me you didn’t have a phone?
Me: I didn’t, but Uncle Eric sent me his old phone a few weeks ago, so I guess I own one now.
Caris: What kind is it?
Me: A Nokia
Caris: What model number?
Me: Ummmm, it says here it’s an 11….
Caris: 10? An 1110?
Me: Yeah, that’s it.
Caris: Waaaaaay. You have a real MeToo phone boy.
Me: A what sorry?
Caris: A MeToo Phone.
Me: What’s a MeToo Phone?
Caris: Daiz a phone everybody does have. When you tell somebody you have a Nokia 1110, they does say, “Me Too”.
Geez. Just the other day I was rebelling against the cell phone culture and today, I’m a cell phone owner at the bottom of the food chain - the uncoolest of the uncool. Now I need to go get myself a better phone.
Posted in Humour, Personal Story | 32 Comments »
Sunday, December 10th, 2006 |
My six month anniversary came and went on December 6th. I knew it was coming but I just didn’t have the time on that day to post anything. So, after 135 posts and 17,000 page loads (nowhere near Saucy’s 65,000 page loads in 4 months), I realize that I’ve told you almost nothing about myself since I started writing here. But that’s mostly because I like my anonymity that comes with this blog. So to make up for that I am going to tell you 5 random things about myself that absolutely no one else knows. Here they are:
- This is not my first blog. I’ve actually been blogging for years.I got bit by the blogging bug in 2004 and haven’t looked back since.
- On rainy days I listen to rainy day music. This is perhaps the corniest thing that I do, bar none. But rainy day music makes a rainy day seem not so dreary. To be precise they are not all “rainy day songs” per se, but a collection of songs that have rain in their titles and/or mention rain. My top
10 12 favourite rainy day songs are:
Songs about Rain - Gary Allen
Fire and Rain - James Taylor
Why Does It Always Rain on Me? - Travis
Rainy Days - Guster
Rain - Breaking Benjamin
I Wish It Would Rain - The Temptations
Have You Ever Seen the Rain - Credence Clearwater Revival
Rainy Night In Georgia - Ray Charles
Who’ll Stop The Rain - Credence Clearwater Revival
I Love A Rainy night - Eddie Rabbit
Rain Please Go Away - Allison Krauss & Union Station
Rainy Days And Mondays - The Carpenters
Songs that did not make it to the playlist include:
Blame it on the Rain - Milli Vanilli
Raining Blood - Slayer
It’s Raining Men - The Weather Girls
I could always use suggestions for other good songs about rain…in case anyone has any.
- I’ve had reoccurring dreams my entire life. I think I’ve had them all from showing up to school completely naked to finding myself in a room filled with snakes. My first was when I was 4 and I’d dream I’d get up to use the bathroom, and on my return I’d walk past the staircase to see a green witch standing at the bottom. I’d take off but she’d take off after me. Of course everything would be in slow-motion, but I’d manage to get back to bed just before she grabbed me. My most frequent reoccurring dream now is of me driving a car, approaching a stoplight with a few cars stopped ahead of me. I’d try to mash the breaks but the car would refuse to stop. I end up rear-ending the car in front of me and I’d wake up.
- My two biggest pet peeves are
(1) People littering.
(2) Parents smoking in their cars with their poor defenseless children strapped to their car seats. As a matter of fact parents smoking in their cars with their children is enough to make me angry but my anger flash boils when it’s babies involved. It’s even worse when they have the windows rolled up. I’ve seen this so many times especially in the U.S. I’m almost afraid to tell people this about me because I think that people are going to think I’m psycho when I tell them just how much it annoys me.
- I daydream way too much which is probably why sometimes I am not at all productive. I can’t help it though. My mind drifts uncontrollably. This is may be good for creativity, but bad for studying (not that I think I am at all creative). It requires superhuman strength for me to sit down for a long while and study. However it’s good for problem solving. In fact I think my best problem solving time is when I’m jogging and my mind is completely blank. I won’t necessarily start out hoping to find a solution to a problem, but inevitably one will pop into my head.
So there you go. Those are my five things. Maybe in another 6 months I’ll post another 5 things, but then again maybe not.
Posted in Miscellaneous, Personal Story | 47 Comments »
Wednesday, November 15th, 2006 |
So one evening a few weeks ago I was sweeping my front yard and this man who lives around the corner came by and asked me to borrow $10 so that his wife could have passage to go to work.
“Boy she only harrassing meh. And ah just want to gi she de money so she go leave meh alone. Ah go bring it back to yuh on Saturday please God.”
Now I don’t really know the man all that well. I know his dad and his brother. He lived in Guyana for a few years before returning to Trinidad and I only just met him this year. The week before he asked me for the loan, I had asked him about his brother who had fallen and hurt his back. So I guess that’s what made him so comfortable in asking a virtual stranger for a $10 loan.
So I said ok and went to get it. So when I came back he said, “Well if not Saturday, then Sunday ok?”
Uh, wait….I’m thinking, “I thought not five minutes ago you said Saturday.”
Anyway, I said ok and handed it to him. So Saturday come and gone, no $10. Sunday come and gone, no $10. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday….in fact the whole week done and it have time come round again to Sunday. So Sunday I outside again sweeping my yard and I see him and he see me same time…and the nastiness smile. Well form the time I see that I know he coming with some cock and bull story he invent when he saw me outside.
He say, “Boy, ah was calling last Sunday and nobody came outside.”
“What time so?”
“All 6 so.”
“But I was home.”
(no reply)
“Well bang on the gate next time.”
“OK.”
So Friday of that same week reach now and he see each other again.
“Yeah boy sorry about that I get tie up dey. But bang on the gate right?”
“Yes…the gate…..bang on it” I didn’t say this through clenched teeth, although it may seem like it.
So as soon as I saw him the next time (which was the next week) I knew he was coming with some story again.
“Yeah boss, sorry about that, but if yuh have any work to give meh to do I could do it for yuh.”
Wait, wait, wait, hold on. I’m thinking, how did “please lend me $10″ turn into, “please pay me $10 for a job that we have yet to decide on and which I am yet to do”? How dat reach dey? I was like, “Nah I realy doh have no work for yuh to do yuh know.”
“(he thought about this for a moment) Oh ok. So bang on the gate right?”
“Yes….the gate….bang on it.”
People, you know the very next day I see this man walking the road with a Carib? So I thinking again, “What if I liked Carib too? I can’t even afford Carib if I wanted one. I does drink the short Busta when I thirsty. I doh even buy water, because water is $4.”
Well I decide I not lending money ever again. I doh care what sad story yuh come with.
Posted in Humour, Personal Story | 16 Comments »
Friday, October 27th, 2006 |
Is there a a new discovery in household laundry that involves slapping yourself around in the laundry room and arguing with the clothes? If not, then my neighbour’s a obeah woman.
I know she’s not slapping her son around because he’s at school all day long, and I know it’s not her father because he’s dead. She definitely doesn’t have any pets, so what else could it be?
Posted in Humour, Personal Story | 9 Comments »
