This white stuff falls from the sky. It looks very nice, especially when the surface is unharmed. Snow tires are a very good invention and this braking-system called ABS is a good one too. Disturbing is only strong wind that blows the light carriage from one side of the road to the other, but it is manageable. Coming nights will see me working, but the pay in November is not as good as it was in October. I hope to cash in over the next month’s holydays – the other colleagues all have a family to attend, I am ready to spent some quite nights.
The men I work with, all have a kind of “dang”, received a blow. The group itself is interesting, because there is an official order or ranking with “St.Peter” leading, then come the oldtimers and Green and me at the low end of the pecking order. We all wear the same clothes and work for “the firm”. The job at the main post I am referring to mostly is “outsourced”. That means there are three official security people, who do the day-time-duty, receive better pay even though they work not at night or on sunday or on holydays, and are better respected. I do two full nightshifts a week at this main post, and walk two other stations at night (the bad karma place and the labs) and regularyly on the weekends.
ST.Peter is the official leader and he likes it. After all he’s a NCO, nothing else.
The authority is Charles. He is there for nearly ten years, he’s close to sixty now. Tall, well spoken, reflected, of wit dry as the desert, absolutly correct: You can realy bank on this man. He learned as a profession to draw plans for construction, has had a construction firm and lost it. The bancrott nearly cost him his wife, his corporal and spiritual health. He survived somehow and dreams of the time to come when he will be able to stop doing this work, when he will not anymore be forced to walk through dark rooms. On endless Sunday afternoons he pulls plans of houses out of the drawer he would like to built, different sizes, for different areas, different styles and requirements. He sees those houses.
He gently pushes me – I should try to write. We’ll see.
Pete-the-old-hand is more then 15 years at this job (around thirty in security). He’s at the beginning of his fifties and looks like end-sixty. He’s like a beaten dog – I am very sorry to say this, humans are no animals and should ot be compared to them. But he was seemingly always the “beast of burden”. So he reacts. I am friendly to him and he is friendly to me. I know that he can be a bad pain in the ass, but as I see it now and as I understand the meachanism here, it is a kind of self-defence he uses, effectifely.
Arbuckle is, as the name indicates, a fat man, actually younger than me. He went bancrott with the paternal firm, but says that his dad pulled out all the money to have a good life over his last years, it may be true. Arbuckle is with the firm for more than one year now, he received another contract, unlimited. He told me that he has psychic abilities. I do not know and I do not want to know. The only thing I know for sure is that he is after any woman only slightly in reach and that he has the ability to talk anybody under the table. He’s a kind of trickster or joker, but I think he’d sell his mother for a fag. Maybe I am wrong. If he knows something about the forces, then he is to be handled with care. He’s impure and tends to the black force. It will kill him.
Green is as long as me with the firm, but started right on the main post and was trained for the night duties (while I was only running with less hours and pay). He’s a musician and dancer in his forties. Vegetarian, green as in alternative not as in Green Party, we share a good deal of experiences in some way. He’s an anarchist with absolutly no trust in any given organisation, gouvernement or kind of (official) power. He uses meditation music through the night and I am sure he’s floating between three and four.
The man I replace is in my age. He studied Slavistics. Had a drinking problem. One night he finally went over the top, cut the telephon lines and told the baffeled official security man in the morning what an asshole he was. Later he told the area manager of the firm what a goddam Stasi-myrmidon he was (well … there might be some truth in it) and how he’d hate him with any fabric of his heart.
Charles keeps the contact.