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Treatise on immigrant labor found in a rail station bathroom

Started by Richter, March 25, 2008, 11:19:30 PM

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Richter

Salazorians in the mist

I see him a few times a week, our building's Salazorian janitor.  Its always when I am working late, either frantic to keep up with an influx of problems, or relaxing in the post- twilight calm, but he always goes about his own steady way, immune to the turmoil or placidity of the office.  I do not know his name.  His presence is announced long before he can be seen.  The heavy rolling, well oiled wheels of his garbage bin, and the overpowering odor (that I pray is only cologne) waft across the rows of cubicles.  I can hear the soft thumps as he collects and empties trash buckets. 

It's usually not until around 6 PM that he arrives at my desk.  We always say hello to each other, swap useless pleasantries.  His English is heavily accented, and I have no idea if he has mastery over more than the brief words we exchange.  I can only wonder what he thinks, passing to collect the refuse of my day.  "Ah, the flaccid idiot is still here, dwelling complacently at his soft capitalist job." I imagine crosses his mind.  It would not be an uncommon sentiment for any Salazorian, and not an unfair critique of my work.  (Which in the grand sense serves no great purpose.)  I could be wrong. 

Only once, in my years of passing our little pungent Salazorian have I had a glimpse into his deeper character.  It was one evening, when fuming over a client's apeshit protests; I was stomping to the bathroom to cool off.  I passed him, rolling his hamper along as always, when he suddenly stepped out of the character I had come to regard as harmless.  He jumped at me, almost a blur, producing a knife from nowhere and pressing for my neck.  I flailed backwards, my hand finding a solid object at the corner of a cubicle wall I caromed off of.  As he advanced, close enough for the kill, I pressed my makeshift weapon to his throat in return.  I was going to die here, I knew, stabbed and possibly violated by a little reeking janitor.  At least I'd do damage in return, I'd make him bleed with my.....wait, what was I holding?

The dark tableau of violence receded, and I saw I was holding a placard market "Human Resources" to the little man's throat.  He saw this too, smirking and chuckling a bit.  The Salazorian backed off, made his knife vanish, and went along collecting trash, leaving me standing their, dumbfounded, holding H.R.'s department sign.  I shook off the shock, and made it to the restroom without soiling myself.  It hit me then how small and unimportant the angry clientele and redundancy of my job really were.  That horrible man taught me a valuable lesson in this way.  While he may never be more than a janitor in our office, and I may never last a day on the streets of Salazar, he showed me a little of the grit which can carry you through life.  What did he do in Salazar, and why is he here now?  What could have made him such a hard and frightening human being?  I still pass him now and again, and he still comes by to collect my trash, both of us making no sudden movements and keeping respectful distance from each other.  Maybe one day when it is no longer worth it, one of us will scream and leap, letting one or both or our lives end in fast, bloody benediction.  We may both move on, never reaching this juncture.  Either way, I always have a knife ready now.  Either way, it is unlikely I will ever forget this figure I grudgingly respect, this Salazorian in the mist.           
Quote from: Eater of Clowns on May 22, 2015, 03:00:53 AM
Anyone ever think about how Richter inhabits the same reality as you and just scream and scream and scream, but in a good way?   :lulz:

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Mesozoic Mister Nigel

"I'm guessing it was January 2007, a meeting in Bethesda, we got a bag of bees and just started smashing them on the desk," Charles Wick said. "It was very complicated."


Richter

For a strung out, late night inspiration, I've done worse.
Comments appreciated!
Quote from: Eater of Clowns on May 22, 2015, 03:00:53 AM
Anyone ever think about how Richter inhabits the same reality as you and just scream and scream and scream, but in a good way?   :lulz:

Friendly Neighborhood Mentat

Reginald Ret

Lord Byron: "Those who will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves."

Nigel saying the wisest words ever uttered: "It's just a suffix."

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gathabloodline

did you report the janitor!!!?? send his attempted murdering ass to jail!!!

i liked it. it would definately make my day. i think i need a brush with death everyonce in a while. i might consider pulling a knife on my manager one day.

Nast



Quote from: gathabloodline on April 07, 2008, 04:39:33 AM
i liked it. it would definately make my day. i think i need a brush with death everyonce in a while. i might consider pulling a knife on my manager one day.

That sounds like a darn good idea.
"If I owned Goodwill, no charity worker would feel safe.  I would sit in my office behind a massive pile of cocaine, racking my pistol's slide every time the cleaning lady came near.  Auditors, I'd just shoot."

Richter

It's really not as amussing IRL.  The average office worker will freak and call police.  Honestly they may freak just over you HAVING a knife.  This gets you dissarmed and jailed, generally.
Unless you're dealing with "security" professionals or well trained miltary / vets.  In which case the odds varry if they consider it funny, or cut you with your own tool.

Quote from: gathabloodline on April 07, 2008, 04:39:33 AM
i think i need a brush with death everyonce in a while. i might consider pulling a knife on my manager one day.

I agree, gets the blood moving again.  Some buisiness deals just don't get done until someone's been jacked up the wall by their throat, but you have to look carefully for places where this flies.
Quote from: Eater of Clowns on May 22, 2015, 03:00:53 AM
Anyone ever think about how Richter inhabits the same reality as you and just scream and scream and scream, but in a good way?   :lulz:

Friendly Neighborhood Mentat