Ever gone to work without your pants?

When I first started my job we were all supposed to get new uniforms, but unfortunately there was a severe pants shortage at the time, so some of us had to place them on backorder. My pants finally did arrive though… 9 months later. And they were ladies’ pants too, though the tailor assured me there was no notable difference between the two. Sure. I still had to wait to get them hemmed, which inexplicably took over a month to do, but once they were done I was FINALLY donned in proper uniform, this after already being a year on the job.

There were a few problems though: one, the pants were light threaded and were designed for spring/summer wear. Try wearing this baby in say, February, during a full-on blizzard. There was more than one occasion where I would be screaming at the top of my lungs cursing the tailors and my department while I was hauling my frostbitten legs indoors.

Then one day I happened to be standing next to a cute coworker, who was shuffling a few things in her hands when she dropped a few papers.

“Oh don’t worry I got it,” I said, as I quickly bent over to grab the papers.

*RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP*

Oh no. No, no, no….

“Umm, I have to take some lost time,” I announced, then promptly ran the @#$% out of there, the shredded remains of my pants flapping in the wind.

You know, I understand now why people who wear uniforms order from an outside commercial vendor, especially military uniforms, instead of getting it all in-house. When your righteous buttinski is getting shot at, you really don’t need to be worrying about the kind of nonsense I went through once I got my own “regulation” pants.

I oughta sue too. I might have had a legitimate shot at asking cute coworker out before the pants ripping thingie ruined my chances forever.

In all my years on this planet, I don’t think I’ve ever kept a single New Year’s resolution. Doesn’t stop me from making them though.

Still, there’s something about the coming year that makes me think I may be in for something different this time. The number 8 is said to symbolize new beginnings, and man, after this awful stretch I’ve been in since the turn of the millennium, a new beginning sounds just like what the doctor ordered.

Here’s what I hope I’ll be able to accomplish in 2008:

1. Clear up my health problems and get strong again (vith ripplin’ mosscles to impress de vooomen.)
2. Generate a stable income of at least $1250 a month via my blog.
3. Get out of my dead end job and find a new career, whether it’s with another agency or by becoming self employed.
4. Move somewhere else, either out of state, or to nowhere in particular, depending on how successful I am in earning a living off the Internet.
5. Meet the girl of my dreams.

As you can see, I have very modest ambitions.

Even though my basic goals of moving and finding a new job are the same, they may be realized in different ways. I might settle for simply finding another job (possibly with the feds) and moving to wherever that new job might be, but ultimately I would like to be self employed, and earn a living by blogging and perhaps doing affiliate marketing online. Doing so would allow me to fulfill what’s been a growing dream of mine: to travel and live from state to state as a working nomad, where the road would be my home. I’ve never felt at home here, and the thought of being tied down to one job in one location for x amount of years is about as appealing to me as doing time on Rikers Island.

Besides, I’ve always harbored the suspicion that my dream girl was never anybody local, and if I were to find her I needed the freedom of being able to travel and stay anywhere.

So, will 2008 be THE year? Time will tell, but it’s looking more and more like my fate will ultimate hang on 2008. As for 2007, I bid good riddance to that crapola of a year.

See you all on the other side!

I walked into the Chief’s office and sat down. The chief took his seat behind his desk and leaned back a little in a more relaxed position.

“So, tell me what the problem is…”

…three hours later I got a frantic call from my lieutenant asking me to call him back as soon as possible. I guess people were finally starting to take me seriously.

It wasn’t easy though. The chief wasn’t willing to concede anything in my meeting with him at first, and it was looking more and more like I was going to get slapped for insubordination too. But I held my ground and made it clear I wasn’t going to let this one go. They knew I had a case, and they also knew they couldn’t intimidate me either.

In the end the chief finally called the lieutenant, who probably about crapped his pants when he realized I had gone over his head and dealt with the bigwigs. After leaving me an urgent message I called him back and we chatted for a few minutes. Devil Woman was finally being moved, this time for real. For now, the battle had finally been won.

The next day I finally went back to work after almost a month’s hiatus, the whole place abuzz about what I had done.

I passed by one guy who quickly called me out:

“LINC, you are da MAN!!!”

I blinked. “Umm, thanks?”

“Holy cow, if I had done what you did, I would have been kshhhhhhhh…,” he said, making a slashing motion across his neck. “You are DA MAN!”

My coworkers greeted me with much fanfare, then quickly ushered me to the same desk that had once been occupied by Devil Woman and my supervisor, who was now my ex-supervisor. If that didn’t speak volumes about the victory I had been given here, nothing did. I was now using the supervisor’s desk, effectively seizing what had used to be someone else’s “throne.”

It didn’t come without sacrifice though. I lost a week of vacation time, and I’ve probably been branded as a troublemaker now by some of the people here. Too bad, really. If rattling cages is what needs to be done to get some justice around here, then the world could certainly use a few more troublemakers.

I stepped inside the Commisioner’s office and entered another world. Leather couches, windows with curtains, and a bowl full of Hershey’s kisses placed neatly on a glass coffee table.

I felt like I was in an office at Trump Tower.

“Can I help you?” A detective approached me.

“Yeah, I have a letter here for the Commissioner requesting an urgent meeting?”

“Hmm, let me get one of our secretaries here.” He got on his phone and buzzed her. When she came in and spoke with me, I learned I didn’t even have to write a letter, I could have just shown up in person and requested a meeting right then and there.

“Are you kidding me??” Man, I was getting jerked around by everyone. Whoever I spoke to earlier about getting a meeting must have thought I was the press and made up that B.S. excuse about a letter just to get rid of me. The secretary I was speaking to now buzzed in one of the chief detectives, who read my letter and asked me a few questions. He then told me the commish was unavailable but that I would be getting a call back soon.

My hopes bolstered a bit, I left and stopped by my union office. Even though I didn’t show up in my section, I was dressed and ready to work, I wanted my union president to note that I had shown up at their office ready to work, and to inform my supervisors where I was.

The union president wasn’t there though, and not quite sure what to do with me, the secretary there led me to the vice president, who then took me into the conference room so we could discuss the problem. They tried to call my union rep several times, but she apparently disappeared off the face of the earth, so it would just be me and the VP. After we sat down, once again I was being subjected to the same tired old arguments: she hadn’t done anything to me yet, I had no standing, I’m putting myself in jeopardy by not coming to work, blah blah blah…

Whatever. I did take their advice and called in Time Office to let them know I’d be taking off another day. They had to clear it with the head of my division first, who let them know that while they’ll approve more vacation time, they wanted me to know that I was being foolish burning up time like I was. No indication at all that they would move Devil Woman either. It was just something I had to accept, and I could either continue to burn up time, or get AWOLed, or worse.

At that point it occurred to me that the Commish’s office may have been blowing me off too. All I had was the promise that they would call me up, but I had no idea when. Meanwhile I was still burning up time here. I decided to go back, and simply squat there until I got some attention. They did have nice leather couches after all, so I could wait all day if I had too.

I went back, spoke to the same detective I met earlier, and it finally began to dawn on him that I simply wasn’t going away. He got up to go get the Chief of Police. Chief of Police comes down, asks me to walk with him back to his office.

And that’s when the real confrontation began.

“She’s still here Linc.”

I blinked a few times. “Are you @#$% kidding me?”

“I kid you not.”

I hung up my cell and threw it across the room. The woman almost drew a gun on my relative (who also works the same job), and they expect me to work in the same section as her???

3 weeks of this crap. I called my union. My union thinks I’m the bad guy. But after hounding their fat hairy asscans for days on end, they finally talked to the bigwigs and my union rep assured me she would be moved out the day after Thanksgiving.

She lied right to my face. Motherfrick useless union whore. I called her cell and left an urgent message, but of course she never called back.

Well that’s it then. I donned my uniform, grabbed my audio recorder and headed out the door. I was going to make a visit to the Commissioner’s office and see the big man himself. I had enough.

After I pulled up alongside headquarters, I took a long, deep breath. In seven years I had never gone in to see the Commissioner. Hell I didn’t even know what his office looked like, but I would soon find out now. Rather appropriately, the commish’s office was at the end of a long hallway on the second floor, and as I walked that last mile, I knew I was putting my job on the line. I was going over the heads of all my bosses and bypassing my union altogether. I paused for a few seconds outside the door, trying to gather myself and keep myself from visibly shaking. I prayed hard and asked God to watch over me.

And then stepped inside.

I won a small victory at work, but it may not be over just yet.

Tomorrow I go back to my job for the first time in a month since this whole debacle began. Even though my union called and let me know the Devil Woman would be moved back to her old section, my coworkers were telling me a different story. I also heard that my supervisor might be transferred out as well, but nobody seems to know anything about that either. There’s a feeling that the brass might be pulling some maneuvering stunts here so that if my supervisor does get transferred out, they will move Devil Woman in his place and she’ll end up becoming my new supervisor after all.

I’ll know for sure tomorrow, at which point I’ll be calling in ahead of time to make sure she’s really gone. If she’s not, it’s war.

You know, finding justice is a noble calling, but the road to it is not a pleasant one, and there are no guarantees either. I’m in this alone, without the support of my coworkers, my union, or anybody else. All I have is God and a clear conscience in knowing I’m doing the right thing. The line has been drawn. This madness has to end now. People are getting hurt, and the integrity of our workforce is being compromised. And yet nobody wants to take a stand here because they’re all afraid for their jobs?

To hell with that. I’d rather stand in line at the unemployment office than take this kind of abuse. I want to go to bed at night knowing I stood up against evil and that I refused to be cowed by their intimidation and threats. I will not be their @#$% rug for them to walk all over.

And if they don’t know that already, then they surely will soon.