Work Stories!

A senior at our university was shot and killed last night at a party in Seattle. We knew him at security because he'd been caught a couple times with pot and paraphenalia. I got into a mini-argument with one of my Bossmans about it, because he seemed to be saying that since he wasn't a model student, his death somehow meant less. I begged to differ. No one deserves to die just because they had the nerve to stand up to a party-crasher or smoked a few joints their freshman year. You can't assign worth to people like that.

On a lighter note, we had a fire alarm at Harrington Hall at about 10AM. We all responded, and Traineeman and I swept the building and made sure everyone was out while the alarm was blaring in our ears. It was like someone had raised a hive of snare drum bees in my skull, and now they were old enough to start throwing parties, and my brain was calling the cops and complaining about the noise. I have never experienced a sound that I FELT rather than heard before this day. (I mean, with the exception of that time my cerebral tissue was actually replaced by a subwoofer. Man, was that ever a weird day.)

Two guys in Harrington were apparently immune to the Snare Drum Bee Revolt, however, because when I keyed into their room to make sure it was empty, I found both of them ASLEEP IN BED. The alarm had been going off for ten minutes at this point, and only me entering the room got them to rise out of their whatever-induced stupor.

The best part? The guy on the left, in his boxers, freaked out when he saw me and hauled his sheets up around his middle with a stare of utterly violated horror. Exactly like you see women do in movies... and only in movies.

Me, I'd be more worried about the alarm. And the bees.

Maybe it was the hair.