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Wed, Mar. 14th, 2007 | 01:52 pm  slavezombie


Men in uniform
slavezombie
You know that ol` urban legend that women turn into butter at the site of men in uniform (fire fighters, law enforcers, etc.) Welp, I thought I should voice my discontent at this. Here at the book shack, it's quite obvious how the younger portion of the reading community, who mostly visit to use the free Internet access, are affected by men in uniform. This place where I work gets pretty loud, but miraculously enough, when a security guard happens by, the place gets quiet. It's quite amusing, actually.
    Of course, when there isn't a public official to be found, and the sound level gets beyond normal, it's us busy bodies who must make an effort to hush those teeny boppers down. So, in that respect, it's nice to have men in blue around.
    I watch him/her walk around just killing the time. I recall years ago how one of the sec. guards would hang out at the front counter, sitting on our chair, taking up space, jawflapping the time away with us. This is one of my greatest fears.
    I like to consider myself a ¶aranoid schizo when I feel this way. It's like that song by CHEAP TRICK, The dream police. I like to be friendly with strangers as much as anybody else, and when I first started this job, I was desperate for attention. It was almost funny, but nothing's really changed. I'm still hard up for attention. I just have a little more assurance in my job than I had before.
    So, there's only so much pacing a person can do before he appears to be anxiously awaiting news about the condition of his pregnant wife going into labor. I imagine it's a reflex in the human ¶syche that prompts someone to say "Good day." or "`tsup?" in order to convince themselves that their job is normal. What's normal about killing time, watching all the teens behave like angels (or rather suppress their demons).

"Blah, blah, blah."

"I'm sorry?"

"blah, blah, blah, blah."

"I'm good."


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