Sometimes I sit down to write a Peemeister entry only to realize that nothing particularly humorous or interesting has happened recently. This problem is compounded by the fact that December is my slowest month. Of course, before I started this blog I would just post all the good pee clinic stories on my personal blog, the same one I use to whine about video games and politics and Survivor (but mostly video games). So, I dug up an old favorite from January 2005. Enjoy.
I think the key to doing a good job is to pretend like the well-being of the entire universe rides on your performance, and act accordingly. This is why, though most of the US populace (myself included) couldn't give two figs about drug testing, between the hours of 8am and 5pm I act like an absolutely brutal rules nazi.
I hear stories about the stuff collectors let people get away with at other offices, and I'm not having it. Nobody gets in without ID. Nobody signs without reading the form. Nobody slides by under 30 ml, and nobody gets their results before the employer gets them. My job is like an exclusive club; coming here is a privilege, not a right. It's my way or the highway, bub.
This is especially evident when people like Mr. FYM show up. FYM stands for "Free Your Mind"; that's this guy's ideology through and through. Free your mind from reason, logic, and common sense, and you'll be free of responsibility, obligation, and social mores. Because the only way to truly be free is to avoid conformity, whatever the cost.
Mr. FYM shows up and doesn't have ID. He didn't leave it at home, he says; he just doesn't have one. He says he ripped up his social security card too, and threw it away. He says carrying ID means they've got you in the machine, and he wants to remain free. I'm not making this up. He actually said "got you in the machine".
I know this fruit loop was just trying to sneak in under the rules, but the way he went on about it you'd think he was there to be my personal hippie savior. Why, he asked, do I content myself working in the endless world of the 9-to-5 grind? Why do I allow myself to be a tool of society? Why do I refuse to challenge the stuffy rules and regulations that bind me?
All this from someone trying to get a job at some roofing company.
I wasn't interested at all in having a discussion with some random nut. It was eventually understood that if he wanted to get the job, he'd come back tomorrow either with a photo ID or with his would-be supervisor in person so I could talk to him.
If I were to have gotten into a debate with Mr. FYM though, my point would have been something like this: challenging authority just for the sake of challenging authority is stupid. The vast majority of the rules we live by as a society are there for perfectly good reasons. Conformity makes my life easier. I couldn't imagine trying to live "outside the system"; I'd probably wind up like Mr. FYM: scraggly, dirty, wearing a shredded denim jacket and paper-thin blue jeans in the middle of January because I can't afford decent clothes, and desperately trying to get a job at a company that traditionally only hires folks who speak no English, and for minimum wage at that. Because I'm "in the system", and because I have a state-issued ID, and because I pay taxes and have a bank account and a Social Security Number and a credit card, I get to live in a nice comfortable apartment watching cartoons all day while drinking gallon after gallon of pre-made pre-sweetened iced tea and eating microwavable junk food, talking to people who live hundreds of miles away via the Internet about "reality" shows where people eat bugs... and all this in what is essentially perfect safety and privacy thanks to a stable government and public services like police and paramedics.
There are bad things about our government and there are bad things about our laws. It is our duty as citizens to have the wisdom to see where the bad things are and try to stamp them out. Throwing up your hands, throwing away your ID and adopting a "damn The Man" attitude simply is not an option. The sad reality of it is, for all the enlightenment Mr. FYM probably thinks he has, if he wants to pay his rent (I assume he's homeless, but I suppose we could give him the benefit of the doubt and say he's just crashing on someone's couch) he's going to have to show up at my office tomorrow along with his supervisor just to get the go-ahead from some jerk 20-something kid who plays video games all day to pee in a cup. If that isn't a kick in the head I have no idea what is.
I originally intended to follow this post up, but never did. I can't remember now whether or not Mr. FYM ever came back. Such is the fickle nature of blogging.
I think the key to doing a good job is to pretend like the well-being of the entire universe rides on your performance, and act accordingly. This is why, though most of the US populace (myself included) couldn't give two figs about drug testing, between the hours of 8am and 5pm I act like an absolutely brutal rules nazi.
I hear stories about the stuff collectors let people get away with at other offices, and I'm not having it. Nobody gets in without ID. Nobody signs without reading the form. Nobody slides by under 30 ml, and nobody gets their results before the employer gets them. My job is like an exclusive club; coming here is a privilege, not a right. It's my way or the highway, bub.
This is especially evident when people like Mr. FYM show up. FYM stands for "Free Your Mind"; that's this guy's ideology through and through. Free your mind from reason, logic, and common sense, and you'll be free of responsibility, obligation, and social mores. Because the only way to truly be free is to avoid conformity, whatever the cost.
Mr. FYM shows up and doesn't have ID. He didn't leave it at home, he says; he just doesn't have one. He says he ripped up his social security card too, and threw it away. He says carrying ID means they've got you in the machine, and he wants to remain free. I'm not making this up. He actually said "got you in the machine".
I know this fruit loop was just trying to sneak in under the rules, but the way he went on about it you'd think he was there to be my personal hippie savior. Why, he asked, do I content myself working in the endless world of the 9-to-5 grind? Why do I allow myself to be a tool of society? Why do I refuse to challenge the stuffy rules and regulations that bind me?
All this from someone trying to get a job at some roofing company.
I wasn't interested at all in having a discussion with some random nut. It was eventually understood that if he wanted to get the job, he'd come back tomorrow either with a photo ID or with his would-be supervisor in person so I could talk to him.
If I were to have gotten into a debate with Mr. FYM though, my point would have been something like this: challenging authority just for the sake of challenging authority is stupid. The vast majority of the rules we live by as a society are there for perfectly good reasons. Conformity makes my life easier. I couldn't imagine trying to live "outside the system"; I'd probably wind up like Mr. FYM: scraggly, dirty, wearing a shredded denim jacket and paper-thin blue jeans in the middle of January because I can't afford decent clothes, and desperately trying to get a job at a company that traditionally only hires folks who speak no English, and for minimum wage at that. Because I'm "in the system", and because I have a state-issued ID, and because I pay taxes and have a bank account and a Social Security Number and a credit card, I get to live in a nice comfortable apartment watching cartoons all day while drinking gallon after gallon of pre-made pre-sweetened iced tea and eating microwavable junk food, talking to people who live hundreds of miles away via the Internet about "reality" shows where people eat bugs... and all this in what is essentially perfect safety and privacy thanks to a stable government and public services like police and paramedics.
There are bad things about our government and there are bad things about our laws. It is our duty as citizens to have the wisdom to see where the bad things are and try to stamp them out. Throwing up your hands, throwing away your ID and adopting a "damn The Man" attitude simply is not an option. The sad reality of it is, for all the enlightenment Mr. FYM probably thinks he has, if he wants to pay his rent (I assume he's homeless, but I suppose we could give him the benefit of the doubt and say he's just crashing on someone's couch) he's going to have to show up at my office tomorrow along with his supervisor just to get the go-ahead from some jerk 20-something kid who plays video games all day to pee in a cup. If that isn't a kick in the head I have no idea what is.
I originally intended to follow this post up, but never did. I can't remember now whether or not Mr. FYM ever came back. Such is the fickle nature of blogging.
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