work is worship.

recently, i re-entered the work-force. in a moment of confusion i applied for the position of head 'setter-upper' for the peggy-brewin daycare at the community centre. the lovely lady who interviewed me didn't ask much. she showed me around, pointed to where the furniture went, where the teddy bears were placed, the lunch boxes, legos and train sets. hardly a few hours later, i was informed by email that the job was mine. that came as a bit of a shock. i went back under my covers for a while. i know hard work never kills anyone, but i've never wanted to take a chance.

anyway, it seemed as though my second day on the job might be my last. i knew it wasn't going well. i clean forgot where the doll-house should be and the little toy stove. the location for place-mats, aprons and toy shovels remained a mystery. it was like an idiot test that i was clearly failing. my employer was patient and kind, but i thought the writing was on the wall when she smiled over at me and said: "this isn't really your thing, is it?" there were so many ways i could've responded to that. but, instead, i simply doubled my determination. had anyone actually asked about my past employment record, i probably wouldn't have landed the job to begin with. 

my first job, when i returned to canada in 1998, was as a house-painter. at the end of that first day, my boss said: "you're the worst damn painter i've ever had." then he added: "i thought you said you had experience." to which i responded: "i have had experience, but you never asked if i was any good at it." i may have improved a bit over the next few weeks, but I soon moved on to ryan's famous garage and towing company. old doug ryan, may he rest in peace, often told me I was the worst gas jockey he ever had. but doug never fired anyone and we trucked on together until i was hired as a jeweller/salesman at a fine shop in town. the manageress there lost patience with me because i continuously forgot to put the toilet seat down after peeing. having lived in india so many years, i felt i was doing well using the thing at all. eventually, i became an antique dealer and would've certainly been fired had i not been self-employed. 

meanwhile, peggy and i have been together now for a few weeks and, probably due to her extensive experience with cranky and unruly children, we seem to be doing fine.  

the best laid plans.

the young israeli couple in line ahead of me at the 'indian airlines' kiosk was arguing with the attendant. actually, they were berating her, adamant that they should not have to pay for the overweight luggage they were wanting to hoist onto the plane. their large knapsacks were bulging, but the amount being charged was relatively little. nevertheless, they were both gesticulating wildly, indignant at the very idea of being charged.

the year was 2003 and i was returning to my old himalayan mountain home for the first time in five years. i was simply delighted by the prospect of flying. flying was a two hour adventure. otherwise it would be, and often was, a two day adventure. my luggage was also heavier than allowed, but i knew that. the israelis were standing their ground. the attendant was flustered, frustrated. she looked as though she might break down at any moment. her moist eyes were searching our faces for support, understanding, perhaps a solution. in the end, the poor lady caved in, stamped their tickets and waved them through.  

she had bigger fish to fry. there was a group of mumbai tourists standing off to the side looking very upset. a small lady in orange and black sari, positively jumping up and down, was hollering something uncomplimentary about the airline. from what little i could understand, it seemed that they had been bumped off the flight. apparently, due to a previous flight cancellation, the plane was over-booked.

just as i was next in line, a few of that crowd stormed the counter. they had decided to protest by blocking any further check-ins. everyone raised their voices in unison, a chant about 'indian airlines' being a terrible company. the over-wrought attendant had actually given up. she was yelling into a phone while holding a finger over one ear. strangely, i found myself right in the middle of the protest. it looked like I was one of them. i began dancing around just like all the others, hollering, chanting. it was fun, until the police arrived. then i had to convince the guard, who grabbed my arm, that i was a simple canadian guy trying to fly up to the mountains. the group was hussled off to one side even while the yelling and arguing continued. the few remaining people in line checked in and we took our seats in the waiting room.

a mother was serving juice to her kid. there were back-packers and business people. the israeli couple looked pleased with themselves. i could see the mumbai tourists through the window still yelling, still arguing. and, just about five minutes before our departure time, the flight was cancelled due to heavy fog.