Stolen Moments

Other than the time the janitor threw my bike in the dumpster*, I’ve been leaving it unlocked and unattended in the school parking lot without incident for the past ten years. And during that same time, I’ve also been leaving my iPod (or the latest incarnation of it) out in plain sight of my staff and students as well.  Again, without incident. And while it would be a large financial loss, and major inconvenience, should either of them ever get stolen, I really don’t worry about such things.

But it seems like every other week I have to justify my seemingly carefree attitude to others, who stop me to question how I could not lock up my bike, hide my iPod, etc. And I always tell them the same thing: I’m too lazy. They usually shake their heads and offer a smug smile, seeming almost happy with the thought that someday, someone will steal my bike and teach me a lesson. But the truth is, I’m really just too lazy to explain the real reason to them. In fact, I’M the one with the lesson to teach.

You see, I believe this whole notion of security, be it a bike lock, home alarm system, handgun, or guard dog, only serves to make us feel more insecure. I know an ounce of prevention is supposed to be worth a pound of cure, but a cure isn’t worth much if you’re not sick. And living in fear that there are thieves and murderers lurking around every corner is, well, sort of sick to me. 

Do you know how much time I spend worrying about my stuff getting stolen? Absolutely none. But I bet many of you who DO make the effort to lock up your bikes or type in a pass codes to your alarm system then go on to worry about all the ways people could bypass your security measures to get at your stuff. Am I right? I don’t want to get too philosophical, but when you chain things up like that, you’re chaining yourself to them. As for me, I’m carefree and confident that my things will still be there when I get back (unless that damn janitor is around!)

So while you are lying in bed at night feeling “safe” that should a robber attempt to break in, your alarm will sound and scare them off, I’ll be in my bed sleeping soundly, since I’m not even thinking about robbers. Unlike my poor father-in-law, who will be up all night worrying about the robbers who are going to read this and then come rob me!

Point is, security is supposed to give you peace of mind, but I find more peace in not expecting the worst from people. Not that I think people are so wonderful and trustworthy, just that the jerks among us seem to take more interest in the things we protect rather than the things we let be. Think about “Wet Paint” signs. If people really wanted that freshly painted bench to go untouched until it dries, they’d be better off hanging a sign that says, “Touch Me!” And rather than posting that “NO TRESPASSING” sign, put one up that says, “Hey Kids, Skateboard Here!” and see what happens. So by locking up you’re stuff, what you’re really saying is, “I have stuff worth stealing.”

What it really comes down to is, I just don’t see the sense in worrying about all the things that could go wrong or might happen. I’d rather spend my time enjoying the things that are happening. Screw those people who say shit like, “If you gave up your daily trip to Dunkin Donuts, and saved the money instead, you’d have $1000 at the end of the year.” To me, if a two-dollar cup of coffee makes your day a little better, good for you! Enjoy it! Which is why, as much as I enjoy the freedom I feel while riding my bike, and as pissed as I’d be if someone stole it, I’m willing to take that chance rather than give up the real freedom of feeling truly secure.

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*Every morning, I hop off my bike and let it fall into the tall grass that borders the school’s property. I am such a creature of habit, it usually winds up in the same spot in the same position every day. Which is why a few years ago, a new custodian at our school assumed the bike was abandoned. Every morning he’d drive in and see it laying in the grass, and after a few weeks, decided to do something about it. Namely, toss it in the dumpster! Luckily I retrieved it before the garbage truck did.

A Dirty Job

The call went out, and when someone like Ralph asks for help, the call gets answered. Ralph is the sort of guy who busts his ass 24/7 maintaining a beautiful home and thriving business, yet he is never too busy to help someone else. Whether it’s helping you have a good time at a party or helping you move a pool table, he is always there to lend a hand. So when the call came that he needed help consolidating his two buildings, Valley Electric Supply and Valley Lighting, under one roof, we all wanted to pitch in.

Problem is, none of us had a fucking clue what to do!

When we arrived, we found ourselves in one of those situations where there was SO much work to do, there was almost nothing to do. And with only a handful of people with an actual clue as to where things went, what they were, etc, the rest of us were left fighting over the one or two jobs that we could handle without screwing up too badly.

I successfully stole Robin’s job of shelving the “Arlington” products and spent the next two hours scouring the incoming pallets for the distinctive A logo. Once that was done, I enviously eyed Geof as he put up the drill bit display while trying to look busy breaking down whatever empty boxes I could find and dragging pallets back to the loading dock.

During one such trip, I was given a “real” job: organizing and stocking the warehouse’s light bulb and outdoor electrical supply section, and, regrettably, the ballast area - which, for the uninitiated, is some gravity defying heavy stuff. Imagine something the size of a box of Pop Tarts that weighs close to forty pounds. And that was the light stuff! No pun intended.

But, with MUCH assistance from Rusty, I somehow managed to do a halfway decent job, all while learning a thing or two about electrical equipment. I hadn’t asked so many “what’s this?” and “where’s this go?” questions since Father/Son Night in elementary school.

Speaking of sex, a large portion of the day was dedicated to goofing on all the sexually explicit names given to the mundane materials. We giggled like schoolgirls over things like butt splices and tool lube. We found hot dipped nipples and two-hole rigid straps incredibly amusing. There was a giant bulb that promised” high energy discharge” and a multi-gang box that sounded downright slutty.

Chances are, none of the items ended up in the proper spot, but we did manage to empty the old warehouse and fill the new one, so that’s a start. Right? I can only hope that what we accomplished was at least of some assistance to Ralph, for he greatly deserves it. But if not, he knows where to find me (unlike, say, the boxes of lugs that I stocked!)