Wasteful

I've ignored this blog, not that anyone's reading. Is anyone's reading? I think half the time I'm keeping this record is because I want to write about work, but I also like to entertain people. Sadly, this isn't an entertainment blog - it's a blog about work. Go figure.

I think Bossman's thinking of cutting Brandon from the work list. Estella and he talked about it. Apparently, after him and Fred went to go pick up the barricades, Brandon said he was leaving. He signed out and left. Bossman said he didn't say for him to go and Estella sure as hell didn't either. This left Julie to do extra work at the gate. I couldn't relieve her as I've taken on clean up. The only thing keeping Bossman from axing Brandon is the fact we'll be short a guy.

I don't know how I feel about the guy. Half of me is annoyed by his constant bickering, the other half is apathetic.

Behind Enemy Lines

Bossman said something strange when I entered the building to sign in. "He's not one," he said, naming me. When Estella walked it, it was the same. Apparently, former-Super had gone into work to drop off his keys. He said with him, five people will surely quit. Bossman was just wondering which of his employees would choose a side. I'm a neutral party.

Brandon was in parking. Early on, he said he wasn't going to stay the long period. This meant that I was going to get gate duty when Julie left. And sure enough, there I was standing at the gate, making sure people don't leave with beer. Time passed, and I noticed that no one was coming to take my place.

Bossman had left Brandon go home early because he'd complained the night before, not wanting to be at the gate. It's not fair, though, because later in the night as I rushed to get the rooms cleaned, Bossman looked at me with this air of anger. "I'm the son of a super woman, I'm not a super man," I wanted to say. Even my mother would've struggled to clean the suites if she had to stand at the gate because some lazy, whiny white boy didn't want to work. It's alright. Tonight Fred's going to be at the game, and I'll leave him at the gate while I go and clean the rooms. I refuse to relieve Brandon and I have made my complaint with Estella about it.

Two more games for this home stand, and then I'm on break for four days. I can only anticipate the hell I'm going to have when things blow up and Brandon takes the inevitable step in quitting the moment when it's announce that he's stuck in the lot.

The times are a changin'

It's a Bob Dylan song playing on a continuous loop. Since last Thursday, when I missed because I was sick, things have been slowly changing at the stadium. Yesterday, the major changes began. Super was fired.

I was outside before work, as usual, reading. I went inside the main office to see if the sign in sheet was there. It wasn't, so I went back outside and went back to reading. Afterward, Super came out of the doors. He looked at me, eyes distant. He was frowning. Rough day, I was guessing. He mumbled, "I'll be right back." His voice was farther away. I didn't think anything of it. Soon after he stepped out of the gates, Bossman came up to me and leaned upon the table in front of me.

"Things are going to be different," he said. I thought he was talking about my new work load. It didn't matter, I signed up for it. "How much of a load will it be if we were to take the barricades?"

"Like one by one? We can take two at a time, but that's walking back and forth. It's going to be a lot of work."

I still hadn't caught on. I told him Fred had a truck and we'd use his. I called Estella to get his number. Fred didn't answer, so I looked up and saw Brandon (the new guy) walk in. He has a truck. We used his. When we get back from setting up, Fred greets us with the bags. Estella is somewhere inside. He tells me that Super's gone for the day. Things aren't making much sense. Was he sick?

I take parking two's bag and Estella comes out. She tells us what has just taken place. She's now our supervisor. Apparently Super had run out of warnings and Bossman had to do the final thing. It was sad to see him go. I know I didn't really like the guy because I didn't really know him well. But any man willing to show you his scars is worth knowing. Things will change.

After setting up, the Deal Maker (who I never speak to, but yesterday was different) pulled up and asked if I wanted to do promotions. I said that I didn't really like people, which is why I'm in parking. We closed up lot 2 and I was going to trade places with Brandon. When arriving, Deal Maker stayed on his cell and told me to get back into the car because they wanted me inside instead. From now on, lot 1 will be the only entrance to the game. I can only imagine the hell that will be the parking lot. Of course, on Thursday's all three will be open and not free.

For the meanwhile, I'm still to report at my same time, mop up the suites that need it, replace paper towel and toilet paper in the restrooms and sweep up excess crap. Then I'm wherever they put me. I'm going to ask if I can do Estella's old job in the meanwhile, because after a while, I'm just a guy walking around. I don't want to be on that list.

We're going to see a few people quitting, mostly the Ticket Troll girls. Super always left them go, Estella's not as nice. They have to stay until the end, is what she always said. Yesterday, the one who arrived caught word of the change and knew that she would have to stay. She faked her daughter's sickness and went home.

No one said working outside the diamond was going to be pretty.

Listening to the Action Man during work

"Ashes to Ashes" played in ear. David Bowie's voice is hypnotic. No sign of the Scooter Gang of Lot 2. No sigh of anyone. Sundays are slow days. I only bring in 53 tickets. I look over to lot 3 and see new guy - whose name I haven't bothered to learn yet - standing at the very entrance, something I don't do due to the safety hazard of being hit by a moron. And there are a lot of morons who park in lot 3.

Like me, new guy calls in people who don't pay. One guy asked Super when they started charging and that he parked there yesterday and no one was there. When Super said I was there, the guy said, "Well, he must've not been doing his job." We can always figure out the liars this way. They always accuse me, the only true parking lot Nazi in the midst of the ball park, of not doing my job. No one gets in for free on my watch. No one.

With that, I let in three people for free. I couldn't be bothered with their excuses of not having any money. Well, the first two anyway. The last one was a sweeter person who only had two dollars. She asked if there was free parking. I told her to go ahead. It's pretty pointless for her to go to lot 3 and have to pay for parking she's already paid for as a student. She's nice about it. She attempts to convince me otherwise. I tell her it's a free shot. No one's going to do anything to her car. I let her in on the truth of the tickets - they're for inventory use only. No one comes around to check cars. It would be too hard to distinguish guests from workers from guests who beat the system by coming early.

And the inevitable happened. Javi came to work. It wasn't something we were expecting, but we knew shit would blow up sooner or later. We kept our cool.

On Evaders, Firing, Work Changes & Books

Javi was out yesterday. Fred and I already knew he was planning on missing work. As we were heading our way to our lots, Estella told us they were not going to want Javi back. The reason wasn't good by the sound of her voice. Fred and I talked it over for a bit. We couldn't come up with anything.

Tim was supposed to take Javi's place in his absence, but he was a no show. Another guy assigned by Super came to relieve me of parking two and sent me to three. I wasn't happy about the news. I went anyway, but being pissed off meant no one was getting in for free. No one.

The toll jumpers laughed at me as the zoomed around and parked for free. When they walked to the gates of the stadium, Estella was standing there waiting for them. As they left the lot, I laughed back. Another toll jumper told me I should be standing up front. That four people got passed me. Which is funny because the four people who got passed me did a U-turn (not really) and came back to me to pay, or ask if I was there to collect payments. How do I know this? Because I was talking to one when he told me that I had to move up.

My response was angry, "Sir, I can be standing anywhere on the lot. I can have a huge sign that says pay here. The thing is, people like you will still continue to take the other route and still say I'm not doing my job right. If you didn't see me, you would've turned where you're supposed to and continue to park. Instead, you drove along the median and turned into the lot to park. And there's several of you who do that and then you act innocent and pretend that you didn't see me. Today I chose to be further in the lot because you all expect me right there as you turn in. I've already caught seven people who normally don't pay because they didn't see when I was closer to the entrance. Don't tell me how to do my job and I won't tell you how much of a dick you are."

I'm sure that was embellished...all that in one angry breath seems impossible. Later I told Super the same thing. He agreed, even stating that me standing there in the sun with a bag strapped on my shoulder was a sign that people had to pay.

After going in, I went to the bank, counted my money and came out eight dollars over. It should've been twelve, but Super apparently hadn't turned in the money he picked up. The guy who took parking two, normally in tickets, asked me how I keep my bag organized. It's a hard job especially when people come in waves. The money gets bunched. Because I'm the only person in the lot who has a bag (I provide my own), I suggest that maybe management looks into to buying three more (just in case I'm absent). Hopefully the word gets to Bossman.

Fred and I went back to work to pick up the barricades. When returning, because Javi was out, Super put me on gate duty, a job I loathe because I have to do some more standing. Starting Monday, however, I take over Mom's maintenance job after parking. I'm probably not going to see a raise in my paycheck as my mother let me in on her secret after agreeing to do so. Apparently there isn't any work to be done, she just makes herself look busy. Great. But if I have to go in during the day to do the job, then I'm asking for a raise.

While on gate duty, I learned who will be replacing Javi, one of the beer island guys. While speaking to Super about parking three, he asked if he could have a book. I looked up, unsure what was going on. Super looked at me and repeated what he just asked. My eyes grew wide. What happens in lot three, stays in lot three. I don't tell them I listen to music or that I write during down time. And I never, ever look like I'm not working. When I write, it's in a tiny composition book and I do it standing.

However, I do carry a book with me that I read before and after work, never during. I'm not that crazy. I've tried it once, but it doesn't work. I'm thinking new guy just lost his spot in lot three.

Hecklers, Nazis & Toll Jumpers

Toll's three dollars (I was in lot one, today). Across the street it's two dollars. It's simple. In the years that the city has had a baseball team, there has never - EVER - been a time when you didn't have to pay the price. Granted that it has gone up significantly, it's still nevertheless a charged fee.

Today, I got a woman who drove behind me, following Estella. She probably figured if the lady in the black truck didn't have to pay, then she didn't either. The lady in the black truck, of course, works at the stadium. They caught her at the door. There's no need for that anymore.

Ever since Bossman told us (meaning me, as I'm sure my reputation has followed me) we could not chase cars anymore, parking three has been less than stellar. However, I've discovered a cure for this. If I can't catch them in the act, then I'm going to embarrass them at the door. Well, today Fred got lot 3 and he was more than frustrated with the people. And there wasn't a thing he could do. I told him that the rules have changed and if he's going to play the game well, then he has to phone in the toll jumpers. I'd bust them too, if I had to. There's no reason for them to jump ship - if honest hard working people have to dish it out, then everyone should have to dish it out.

Problem is, now we've got a whole new set of problems. Escalation.

Much like the ending of Batman Begins, the way we play "the game" has changed since 2007. When I started chasing the cars down, they found other means of getting by me. Sometimes they'd come in packs. I'd leave my post as one of them jumped the median, while the other one pulled in. Chances are, I couldn't get both of them, and I couldn't be in two places at once. Today, the toll jumpers found a new way in - run over the barricades. City property defaced by a blue, white-striped Mustang. Or they speed right by us, knowing full well that we can't follow. When we call in descriptions, there are so many, how can we get them all down at once?



And Toll Jumpers aren't the only problem plaguing the stadium, leaving everyone in a pissy mood. The rate of insanity with the Hecklers has reached an all time low. Yesterday, there were only about six men who were booing, name calling and swearing - today they brought their girlfriends and others like them. Super had to go to great lengths to walk them out of the ball park because they were now attempting to start a fight with the visiting team - and I'm sorry, you hecklers out there, chances are the team will wipe the floors with you because you're all talk and no muscle. And next home stand, they'll be there again and probably worse.

But not only have they started with the visitors, but also a gang of teenage hecklers parked themselves on the home side. Estella's alone in the taking care of the crowd while we're off being parking lot Nazis. When we come in, we're only adding two extra guys. We can't be everywhere at once. We're walking around, attempting to keep the crowd calm.

It was a good day, nevertheless. Mainly because it was the last game of the home stand and I get nine days off to do whatever I please.

On a side note, the parking lecturers have decreased. Today, I got one, but for the most part he was too tired, too frustrated, or realized I've heard it all before.

Frustrated Old Lady

Fred called in today so he was a no show. Super put me in lot 1 - the sun spot. I swear, I'm two shades darker now. For the most part, I didn't mind it. Mother Nature had cast her clouds high above me, shielding me from the sun - this, however, didn't last long. She also blew - quite fiercely - her cool breeze. I was fresh.

Early in, an old lady pulled up with $2 waving out. This is a common thing as most of the older patrons still long for the day when the stadium parking was that much. I told her it was three and she snapped at me. Patience, Ennui. She doesn't know what she's saying. She can't be held responsible. To make sure that there isn't any special treatment going on, I call Estella and ask her. I tell her the lady's paid two in the past - or so she says - and had lodged a complaint with a ticket clerk. However, there isn't a pass on it and I report the grim news to the lady, handing back her two dollars. She snaps again at me, but more at the rules this time around, "I'm not going to pay it." She pulls up and turns around and leaves. Fare thee well, old lady.

I don't agree with the parking price, either. I feel bad that people have to hand over cash to get into the game and, if they have kids, for food inside. That's quite a bit of cash down the drain for some "family" entertainment. Another home based team only charges one dollar for their toll, but from what I heard, their parking lot is just a lot - sans asphalt, pavement, parking lines.

However, one guy some time last home stand told me where he came from parking was $12. In fact, he pulled into lot 3 with a small hope in his voice, praying that it was only $2.

When you line it up to that, you're getting a pretty good deal. It's either pay a toll, or higher ticket prices - no matter where you park. Of course, this gets rid of the need of parking lot Nazis, such as myself.

Conflicts

For the most part, I attempt to keep my job on the down low. The simple fact that I am two years out of college and still can't land a job in the Rio Grande Valley as anything other than a teacher depresses me. It's also rather embarrassing.

Today, I saw my former creative writing professor. There's not hiding from this man; he knows me just by the sight of me. It's not like it was preventable. The parking lot I'm in charge of is right across the street from the university gym, where most of my former classmates and college professors work out (mostly because it's deducted from their paychecks or added to their tuition). We talked for a bit, before some rude jerk who cursed me under his breath, pulled in and paid the toll. He had the small chance of driving by and parking without paying, but he chose to make my life miserable.

Before the interruption, the professor asked me if I was still hosting poetry readings. The truth is, I haven't been in the mood, nor have I been writing very much. I've been jotting down ideas and thoughts, but nothing major. I was hoping that working at the baseball stadium would wind the cogs again and words would pour out. However, this blog is the only creative thing I've done since - well, since anything really.

I'm going to end this before I get too "emo." But I suppose what really gets me down about this job (even though I'm good at it, well, when I was allowed to chase down cars and force the patrons to pay) is that I'm the odd man out. Unlike my fellow co-workers, I don't really care much for picking up girls. I'm too old to play that game. Thing is I'm not the oldest one in the group. It doesn't make me uncomfortable when they talk about these "hot girls" (and they're all pissed off because I took the parking lot right across from the University gym), but it does exclude me from the group. For the most part, until work starts, I keep to myself. And I don't attend their after work reindeer games either.