The Wanlorn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_wanlorn) wrote2008-01-11 12:01 pm
the_wanlorn) wrote2008-01-11 12:01 pm
Entry tags:
In Which Our Hero Plans For A Zombie Attack
I'm sure that the world at large knows this by now, but I started my new job on the 7th. It was terribly scary and exciting. It took me three days to get my first bit of code partially operational, but I did it! And now I'm just trying to make it work completely right instead of half-assedly right.
Anyway. More important matters: this building is wonderful if ever there is a zombie attack.
There is, of course, the general matter of it being in the center of a whole bunch of hotels and restaurants (easy access to food). There's also the matter of my cube being on the second floor (can zombies operate stairs and elevators? Hopefully not!).
But, what's really important, is that half of the first floor is dead space.
Apparently, what this means in office terms, is that it's empty. It belongs to our company, but we simply do not have enough people to fill it up. So the people on that floor have been consolidated into half of the floor, and the other half is just full of empty cubes. I don't think the lights in there have been turned on for ages. I'm sure that - if we didn't have a cleaning crew, that is - there would be a layer of dust over everything half an inch thick.
I'm sure you all are picturing a bunch of empty cubes in rows, and going "What the actual fuck? That is not useful at all! You're just as open as you are in an inhabited area of the building, you freak!"
Ha! That is where you are wrong! The cubes are turned in on each other, with a single half-wall offering access into each square of turned-in cubes.
My first thought upon seeing those (I swear I'm not lying about this) was "Oh no D: that's the perfect place for a zombie to hide."
My third thought (the second being "What the hell is wrong with you? Stop thinking about zombies") was "Or the perfect place to lie in wait for zombies to shamble by, and then shoot 'em! Ha, I'd be protected on all four sides, and there's an entire maze of them I could jump to if the one I'm in is compromised!"
When the zombie apocalypse comes, you will find me down there, with a stockpile of free sodas and chips, and a gun-type-object that was hacked together from office supplies. And I will be waiting for the other survivors to come find me.
Some fucker tried to change lanes into me, and in swerving out his way, I bumped into an overly-high curb, which tore my very-expensive-winter-snow-tire open.
>:(
I managed to limp along to Porter Square (I was only about a mile away, but when the fastest you can go without your car feeling like it's going to shake apart is 20mph, that's a loooong way), because it's not like there's anywhere you can park on a street in fucking Cambridge and change a tire.
Once there, as I'm limping along at 5mph trying to find a parking space, a lady tapped on my windshield to let me know that I had a flat. Because, you know, when you have a flat driving the car doesn't feel any different so it totally made sense that I wouldn't've noticed!
She offered to give me her parking spot, and went to wait at her car for me. This required me backing up which... I couldn't do because, even though I had my flashers on, the fucker behind me wouldn't go around me. Apparently, flashers plus motioning wildly to GO THE FUCK AROUND don't actually mean anything, and it makes perfect sense to wait behind the car for it to move.
(As far as I know, the lady is still waiting at her car for me to show up. I really hope not, because that was over twelve hours ago.)
I finally continue limping along, and, as the cops are watching me drive through the parking lot with a flat tire, I find a space right in front of them.
The last person to change a tire on my car was my dad, and he did something to the jack when he put it back in the car to make it fiendishly difficult to get out. I struggled with it for ten minutes, while the fucking cops just sat there and watched me.
Then they drove off.
Forgive me, LJ, for I've always assumed that the job of the cops is to help people who are in distress. Especially when it's dark out, and there's a flat tire involved, and I'm clearly having trouble getting the fucking jack out of my fucking trunk. But clearly I was wrong there, and I apologize for my ridiculous misconceptions.
(You can bet your ass that if I had tried to change the tire on the street, the same goddamn cops would've pulled up and told me I had to move my goddamn car.)
At that point, I gave up and skipped off to the doctor. Once I was back, I managed to get the jack and and commenced with changing the tire. Which took over an hour because I'm an idiot and first set the jack crooked, and then, well. The nuts were on tight, okay?
In that time period, two people offered me help. One of which was an old lady who looked like a strong wind would shatter her. The first one offered when I was still optimistic about my ability to change a tire in a minimum amount of time.
Rest assured, dear LJ, I am thoroughly disenchanted with humanity at this point. They can go blow their mothers for all I care.
Now I have my spare tire on, which is terribly small and I'm afraid to go over 50mph which is a real problem when I'm driving on the pike to get to work. But never fear! I shall beg my dad to buy me a new tire on Saturday! Because it's not like I don't already owe him $1000 or anything. And it's not like I don't have a thousand other things I need to pay that are more pressing than getting a new crazy-expensive tire.
:(
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The zombies at work are making me chortle madly.
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If you're at school when the zombie apocalypse happens, make your way carefully to my work! I'll protect you in the maze of cubes downstairs!
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Not that I'm grouchy about the men in blue or anything. I'm sure most of them do their job and do it very well! That just reminds me so much of the cops around here.
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