Love the Little People

The Security Guard HATES me.

You may think that is a bit of an overstatement...but today I have proof!

It started the second week of work. The nice gentleman that had been saying hello to me whenever I walked through the lobby disappeared and was replaced with the regular security guard.

He's not friendly...he's bothered by any interaction - I know first hand.

I had to go complain about the lack of heat on our floor for the whole office and he was not nice. He kept asking me why I hadn't just emailed the building manager (Well, I WOULD email the building manager if you would give me the building manager's email! That's what I'm asking you for! I don't think that the security guard can magically fix the lack of heat - but I need a little help here buddy and unluckily you're it because YOU'RE SITTING IN THE LOBBY OF MY BUILDING!). I know this sounds extreme, but I prefaced our whole interaction with the fact that I was new (it was my second week) and I needed the building management's information - could he give that to me?

Then, there was the elevator incident. This is not my fault! I just needed to ride the elevator down to the lobby. I got on the elevator and my favorite friend was standing with a cup of soup in his hand. He was holding the cup in the middle of the elevator making it virtually impossible to stand anywhere (thus the reason the other two ladies where huddled in the back corners) so I stood right up against the doors. When the doors opened again and more people needed to get on, I started to move backwards (where all the space was). Apparently, I should have asked permission to come within 2 feet of his cup of soup, because he got all huffy and quickly moved his cup which made it almost spill all over him...big mistake...big...HUGE.

And last night, I got proof. I left at the usual time (5:50 so I can make Post by 6pm). I get to the lobby and the revolving door is still going. I even think to myself "Wow, the revolving door is still going, did I leave early?" I proceed through the revolving (as you are supposed to unless it is locked) and JUST as the door is about to get to a point where I can exit - BOOM. The door stops...locked down like Fort Knox. I look at the Security Guard (my favorite person of all time) and think surely he's going to open it. But no, he doesn't make a move. He looks at me. He doesn't stand. He doesn't shout. Other people are walking through the lobby looking at me, looking at the Security Guard, looking at the door...and walking through the security door to the left (what you are supposed to do if the revolving door is locked). I can't figure out what to do...panic is setting in...am I going to have to sleep here tonight and wait for them to turn it back on in the morning? Finally, a rider from the next elevator comes and pulls the door backwards just even to tell me to come out that way. Oh good, I get to go home tonight! I walk back and push the door...and nothing...I try again a bit harder and nothing again. I look at SG - surely he hasn't double locked it now that I'm trying to get out this way. I walk back to the front and try to push that side of the door - surprise, that doesn't work! Eventually, another person off a third elevator, who must be walking towards his white horse, yanks and holds the door open until I can make my way out.

Moral of the story - Do what your sister tells you and "Be nice to Security Guards, cleaning people, and all others in the building. One day you will need their help."

Right, Left, Right

They do some things backwards here...like drive on the left...walk on the left...stand on the escalator on the left. No matter how many times I think I have it down, about once a week I am reminded that walking on the right has been drilled into me since I was five years old.

Often I have to move out of the way of a fellow pedestrian, who often gets upset with me when I go right and they go left and we almost end up kissing...hence the upset pedestrian I now have on my hands that is trying desperately to move the other way. At this point, I have realized my error and start moving left...but they they are moving right...and again the almost kissing thing happens. Now, if it's a 'fit' guy (they way the Brits at the office describe hotties), who cares? But often it's a tiny Asian tourist woman who doesn't speak my language or a tall older gentleman trying to multitask on the phone and not interested in dealing with me. And I am suddenly repeating over and over to myself "Move to the left, just move to the left, why can't I remember to move to the left?"

Then another few days go by, and I beginning to believe I have it down, I'm on the left escalator, I'm on the left sidewalk, I'm on the left...then I run into tiny tourist woman and I'm canting in my head again! Hopefully, in a few more months, I'll have this down.

A Morning Walk

Walk out the door...closing the little green gate behind me as I begin my journey down Baltic Street (my new home!)...I usually look back and marvel at the red porch...which is where I live. I few steps down the road, past the crazy yellow car that looks like an old muscle car-but can't be because I'm not in America-and I'm turning onto the street that points the bike route to the next town over. Depending on the time of morning (if I'm going in early/late/or just running late), the purple morning glories are in some stage of wakening to the bright sunlight, trumpeting in the day! Then there is the bush with flowers on it (I think they are Magnolia) that I take a chance at sniffing, if I have the time...usually I see one of the four cats that live between me and the train station around this bush. There's the grey tabby, the orange tabby, the black with white boots, and the Siamese but with longer hair...I have yet to give them names, but did see a little boy pulling one cat's tail on the way home the other day...don't think his mother was too happy about his choice. Next, I amble past the corner pub and can't help but notice what is on the agenda for tonight - It's Thursday which means Jag the Joker (not that I have figured out exactly what that means yet...but I will if ever I get a free Thursday). Down a few more steps and you see the curtain that has a graphic that-too me-looks like a man lifting weights (though it's probably just squares and triangles)...If the curtain is open, he looks like he's pumping iron overhead...if it's closed, he looks like he showing off his muscles. The next block has the big shrubs that you can peek through to find the little park with swings and just long to have a swing instead of running off to work...round the corner along the hedge until you run into the box that has been spray-painted with a stencil (is the man sitting on his loins or rowing a boat? - these are the questions I ponder every morning on the way to work, feel free to cast your vote!). A few blocks to think about the school nearby and if the mother will come out in her dressing gown and tell the little boy he forgot his hat again...then it's time to walk up the steps with the tiles!!! Apparently these tiles were painted at some festival in Newtown at some point in the past...but each morning I love to find a new one...although the one that says "Good Morning, Peter!" always catches my eye! It's so cheery and puts you in a pleasant mood to 'frogger' across 12 lanes of traffic (two roads come together right in front of the train station). A quick check of the time and compare it to the old fashioned clock announcing when the next train will leave (...I have watched the station man come and change these clocks by hand...), and I know if I have to bound down the stairs to make it or if I have plenty of time...And this is how I start each and every work day! I love Australia...