Chikory visits Nerd Central - Part One

That's right. Chikory went to Nerd Central again for another work-related field trip. YAY! :o)

Fortunately, it wasn't a very eventful field trip. I say fortunately because that means that there were a lot less annoying people than last time. I really don't bode well with the public. So both Julien and I were grateful for the lack of bogan idiots (My words, not his).
Anyway, on with the show...

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We headed down Monday night, because it's a lot less stressful than having to be at his Aunt's place by a certain time so we don't miss our train. On the way down there were road works. This was along the highway, so you've got the decrease in speed limit - 100, 80, 60, 40. Now who wants to do 40 on the highway? Seriously? While you may try, it's just painful to do, and the person behind always shows their disgust by trying to link their car with yours from behind. You see them hunched over their wheel, chunnering on to themselves with the most disgruntled expression. So what I usually do, and what Julien did, was compromise; do 50kmph. Which got me to thinking. I wonder if that would work on a cop should you get pulled over?
"But officer Scott, I compromised. The sign said 40, the guy behind wanted me to do 60, so I did 50 to keep everyone happy."
Probably not, eh? If anyone wants to try it out and see if it works, let me know how you go.

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Tuesday morning our adventure begins. Bright and early at the ripe old hour of 8:13am, we get on the train and have our first encounter with a crazy person. He was down the other end of the carriage, so it was no bother to us, but I felt sorry for the people unfortunate enough to be stuck in his immediate vicinity.

It seems this guy really liked his boots. Some poor soul made the mistake of making eye contact with him, and away he went. You could tell he was on cloud 9, thinking he had quite an audience hanging on his every word. But about 5 minutes after realising he wasn't getting any feed back (only strange looks) he eased off and pretty soon was silent.

"You know that song? Elvis' song? Don't you step on my blue suede shoes? Well that's the ad. Don't you step on my Doc Martens. See (Sticks his boot in the air and points proudly) that's me. These are my Doc Martens. Don't you step on my Doc Martens."

Riggggght fella... News flash, no one was intending on doing that, and nobody cares.


That was about all the excitement for the trains on Tuesday. Pretty boring standard commuting there. But as I said before, I don't mind that. So long as people stay the heck away from me, I'll be able to keep my mood in check and not want to go on a not-so-random, random killing rampage.


We both were wondering if our old friend, the OCD guy, would be there. When we arrived at 10am, he was no where in sight. I was a little disappointed, as he's usually there in time for the opening hoping to get his favourite machine; number 10. But my disappointment wasn't to last for long, as he showed up LATE. He actually looked less crazy. I would've thought he'd be a mess, not keeping to his dead line and all, but I guess he handled that really well. However, as the day went on, he started to look worse and worse.
He's got one of those hair doo's that could be a potential comb over. Completely bald on top, and a little bit of hair around the outside. And let me just say, for a guy with OCD, he really needs to learn how to wash his small amount of hair. It looks so greasy and disgusting it's not funny. His hair sticks straight out the sides (but not the back), and desperately needs to become acquainted with a comb. Ohmog, like, ew!

But back to my point. We found out his name. He must have been on the waiting list for a machine because when it became available the lady at the front desk called out for him. "BARRY!"
Ah ha! His name is Barry! He looks like a Barry, too. You're all feeling hella smart and informed now that you know that, huh? I know I am. It's actually nice to have a name instead of just "OCD Man/Guy" or "Our friend". Although Julien quite adamantly tells me that he's not his friend, he's mine. Heh. I guess crazy people just gravitate towards their own kind (I'm going to get in trouble for writing that. I'm kidding, though. <:o( Sorry...). Anyway, I'm really curious to know what he's doing. But how to find out? That's something I'm going to spend the next 3 days contemplating. I just need a plan of attack before Tuesday when we return to finish the job. That sounds like a killing or something, doesn't it? I should've added evil laughter.

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Wednesday. You know it took me ages to learn how to spell that word at school? Just a bit of pointless info for your brains.

Barry was on time. I've noticed that he goes to the right side of the glass doors and stands as close to them as possible. I swear his nose is almost touching the glass. I suppose he thinks that if he stands that close they'll take pity on him and open the library sooner. Sort of like the puppy dog sitting in the pet shop giving everyone a "please love me, I'm so bored in here" stare. Although, when the doors do finally open he charges in there like an angry bull, so he may just think that the extra 2 seconds he gains from being so near to the entrance will make all the world of difference as to what machine he gets.
But HA! The jokes on him. We BOOKED machine 10.

We can only book because we come from far away to use the microfilm machines. Anyone living in the city gets put on a waiting list and have to come back later. This has its perks, too. Because when they have a large waiting list, the evil female librarians come along and start kicking people off. They can't do this to us, 'cause we're all special and stuffs, so this ticks them off.


There was this older couple on a machine close to mine. I thought this worth mentioning, I know a lot of people wearing glasses have done this at one stage. I know I have. But this guy did it every single time he put his glasses on. How you can manage to poke yourself square in the eye about 10 times or more without twigging that you're doing something wrong is beyond me. After 2 or 3 times I'd be thinking that there needs to be some serious changes made to my method of attack.

Last but not least for Wednesday, we have a picture. Yes, I can take cool picture images with ma telamaphone and put 'em on ma pooter now. They're not the greatest quality, but it's better than nothing. Anyway, I'm sure you've all seen this sticker on a car before. I found it amusing, so I thought I'd be nice and share. There's more happiness in giving than there is in receiving you know.

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Last day for the week. Thursday. It's all downhill on Thursday... I hate those Australia Post ads. Damn it! I just assisted their cause didn't I? I guess the ads are doing their job then, huh?

Library ladies. What is it with them? I know I mentioned this last time, but I'm going to mention it again.
It seems that when you get females in charge of anything they sense their power and decide to exact vengeance on anything and everything they can. Even if it doesn't move they'll order it about with a full blown bitchiness that only the female gender can master.
The male staff, they're cruisy as. "You wanna go to lunch? Sure! That's fine. See you in 35 minutes." "You're unsure of what to do? Okay, I'll tell you. I'll talk TO you, not DOWN to you."

You should hear them explaining things to the noobs who don't know what they're doing. It's like they're simpletons and have immense difficulty understanding even the most basic of English terms. It's so disrespectful and offensive. I hate that.

As I said before they can't kick us off when there's a waiting list because we're weary little travellers and that would just be the epitome of cruelty. I believe this really ticks off the female staff (excluding one - Stephanie. She's nice. She has the power but she uses it sparingly). We're there from 10 until about 3:30, sometimes 4pm. They can't possibly expect us to not have any food in that time. You can't eat in the library, but you can bring gum in (in your mouth is acceptable, but in the packet is a no go) so we leave for 35 minutes and come back.
For the first 2 days it was no problem. We'd leave, we'd return in the allotted time, and all was well. However on the last day the evil leader of this posse decided that - "NO! You can not do that! There's a new rule I've just made up, and you can't book machines in the afternoon. Only the morning. HOWEVER! I am going to go out of my way. I'm bending over backwards for you, my head is on the chopping block so you owe me for my greatness. I'm going to let you have those machines back because I'm just so kind and lovely."
*Cough*Garbage*Cough*
I've pulled off more difficult rubbish stories than that during my time at Woolworths much more convincingly.

It's just amazing. If you talk to someone different you get a different story. The rules are forever changing and materialising depending on the mood of the person.

Why do female employees in higher ranking positions turn super Nazi? Can anyone out there answer me that?