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March 29 Today is the Greatest Day I've Ever KnownPeople Behaving Badly #17It's not supposed to happen that when you get laid off from your job, people say "Congratulations". Suddenly finding yourself unemployed is not generally a cause for celebration. And yet, here I am, on Day Two of The Rest of My Life, and everyone from my better half to my best friend to my Mum have all expressed nothing but joy at the fact that I am no longer employed by the miserable tyrant that is THEmedia. I started working with them two years ago, and for the first couple of months, I was happy. Making decent coin, moving up the ladder, gaining experience and working with a cool crew of people. Somewhere, though, I knew something was wrong. Something just didn't feel right. Maybe it was being reminded that I had taken 63 minutes for lunch, and being asked when I'd make up those missing three minutes on my timesheet. Or it could have been one of the days when a co-worker, attempting to call in sick, was told that they're 'too important to not be here' and forced to come in anyway, all snotty-nosed and shivering. By the time they quietly cashed a $30,000 cheque on an invoice the client had already paid, I knew it was time to start planning an exit strategy. Ah, but therein lay the dilemma. Trying to escape from this place without burning any bridges or getting fired doing it would prove more difficult than escaping from Alcatraz in a dinghy made of rain slickers. It's a fucked up hierarchy with the obsessive-compulsive King on top, three of the King's Men, and the wench, Stompy, firmly in the King's back pocket. The rest of us peons were just that, pathetic minions charged with the impossible task of keeping Stompy happy so that she could bow before her King as the perfect little brown-noser she strived to be. And Stompy was the worst - this little sorority bitch with a God complex who couldn't walk in heels, even though she wore them every day. She would make impossible demands, and blame us mere mortals for the uncontrollable ways of the universe when her demands were not met. She would find fault in everything from pixels to punctuation, and when she couldn't find anything valid to criticize, she'd pick apart every minute detail of something completely irrelevant. I never really understood how she kept going; I would think it would be exhausting, or at the very least depressing, to only see the negative in every situation. But there she was, day after day, this little pessimistic ball of bitchiness dipped in saccharine pretentiousness. I hated that I had to interact with her. As the days wore on and I started to lose more and more of myself, I started to do some soul searching. Lucky for me, these guys had sucked most of it out of me already, so it didn't take long to come to a decision. I didn't care if they found out that I was looking. I didn't care if they fired me for it. All I cared about now was getting out, with as much remaining sanity as possible. Carpe Diem. Seize the Day. When another company called me for an interview, it was the same day Stompy had made one of her most ridiculous demands to date. I was at my wits end and she needed to know it. So I marched into her office the next morning, and told her I would not be working overtime that evening, as I was going to a job interview instead. She put on her sourest I'm confused face and asked, "You're not happy working here?" "Nope, not particularly." I then proceeded to tell her many of the reasons I was feeling unhappy, uncomfortable, and underrated. I intentionally kept quiet on my criticisms of her - still in the interest of trying not to burn any bridges - as I knew she would go running up her chain of command and I would soon have the opportunity to express my concerns to someone who had more authority than her. Sure enough, the next few days are a string of dirty looks, closed-door meetings, and the silent treatment. Finally she asks if I can meet with her and one of the King's Men. The King, though all of this, has been invisible - he doesn't care what his peons think or feel, as long as at the end of the day they've produced at least eight billable hours for him. So I sit down with Stompy and the Man, and the Man proceeds to tell me that whatever my concerns are, they're irrelevant. He doesn't care about the how or the why of my being miserable, only that it's a waste of his time for me to be there if I'm not focused solely on making him money. I don't know all the ins-and-outs of running a business, but it seems to me that if I had employees, and one of them came to me saying they were unhappy and had some concerns, I would want to hear about it. Even if I wasn't going to do anything about it, I'd at least pretend to care, and humor them long enough to listen. I suppose I should have known going into it, though, that any concerns of mine would have fallen on deaf ears. In two years, they haven't shown any inclination that they know I'm a person, not just a billable hour, so why would I expect it from them now? So instead of launching into a diatribe of all things wrong, I simply asked them if we could mutually agree that I was not a good fit. Brilliantly, I convinced them to lay me off. My ideal exit strategy was to quit, but make them think it was their idea, make them do it for me, and make them pay me on the way out. And can you believe it? All I had to do was ask. February 27 Annual Island Day TripIt's been a while since I was here last. Thought I'd leave a little home movie, see if anyone comes by.
July 06 I wanna be Original.... Just like Angelina!People Behaving Badly #16I couldn't tell you how many Iraqi civilians were killed yesterday by suicide bombers, but I do know that Jennifer Aniston is still staying tight-lipped on her relationship with Vince. I don't know what happened yesterday on Parliament Hill, but I know that Brad and Angelina had their baby in Africa, gave their new child a Namibian name, and gave $300,000 to the country of Namibia as a means to say thanks. I know who designed Charlize Theron's gown at the Oscars, I know about Lindsay Lohan's most recent
But why do I know these things? More importantly, why should I care?
Our obsession with all things celebrity has gotten out of hand, and quite frankly, has me quite concerned. Over the years, the concept of celebrity has morphed from a highly-paid profession based on entertaining audiences, to an almost God-like status. The fans are no longer content to see their stars on the screen and on the stage, then allow them to live in relative peace until their next curtain call. No, today's fan wants to know the celebrity they worship. We want to know the intimate details of how they live -- what they eat, where they shop, who they're wearing, who they're sleeping with, and how we can have it all, too. We're no longer satisfied with the public personas of our idols... now we want to see their private side as well. We invite these people into our lives on a daily basis, and have come to expect that we are deserving of the same from them. The mentality almost seems to be that these people put themselves on the public stage... so why are they surprised when we don't want to turn the spotlight off?
We place so much importance on the glamorous life of the rich and famous, but why do we care so much? When did we cross the line from caring about their performances to caring about their personal lives? Why do we want so badly to be a part of how the other half lives, if only by proxy? It is because they have in their grasp that which we know we'll never have - fame, fortune, fandom?
I'm concerned that we place too much emphasis on who these people are, and not nearly enough on what they are. Is Jennifer Lopez a good singer, or is she a nice smelling fragrance? Is Britney Spears a pop star, or a bad parent? And is Paris Hilton a.... wait a minute... What exactly is it that she does, anyways, to be deserving of her celebrity?
I guess I'm just worried that we're raising our next generation with faux stars in their eyes. In a day and age where all it takes is a nice body and a rich daddy to make yourself a household name, what motivation do kids today have to work hard, hone their talents, and become successful the old fashioned way? If we continue to propagate the easy, breezy, beautiful Hollywood cliché, all we'll be left with to worship are nice-to-look-at, albeit talentless, stars.
As I was walking home from work last night I passed by a pub with a chalkboard sign out front on the sidewalk. There was a quote scrawled on it, author unknown. To spend a lifetime dreaming of the person you wish to be is a waste of the person you are now. June 10 I Love You Dearly, But...People Behaving Badly #15Humans are inherently evolutionary creatures. We grow, we change as we grow, and we adapt to the changing world around us. Usually, we enjoy and embrace the changes we see in the world we live in, whether it's a change in ourselves, in our neighbourhood, or in the people we keep near and dear to us. This change, this progression of evolution on even a minute scale, reminds us that we are still alive, that we are not stagnant, and that we still belong.
But as much as we enjoy and embrace moving forward, we seem to reject it just as wholly. In our own personal tug-of-war, we constantly find ourselves engaged in an intrinsic struggle, as we yearn for the nostalgic ease of yesterday. We cling to remnants of our past, small little fragments of memory and treasures of days gone by, in an effort to stop the changing world from going on without us. We hold on to things long worn out -- a favourite pair of jeans, an old played-too-often album, even friendships -- because we attach such emotion to them, because we haven't been without these things for such a long time -- put simply, because they're familiar and comfortable.
But at what point do we decide that the torn pockets, the scratched disc, the silences between friends -- at what point do we decide that maybe this isn't worth holding onto anymore? Whether it's a song from highschool, or someone who knows you as well as you do, does the love you have for something make it worth keeping it on a shelf for safe keeping, no matter what condition it's in?
She and I have been friends since tenth grade -- ten years, now -- and have been everywhere together -- from elation to frustration, from confusion to awe, from Victoria to Montreal. But somewhere along the way, between graduation and now, we learned that there is life outside of each other. After all, two people can only walk the same beaten path for so long before a fork in the road pulls you both in different directions. And sometimes, when the paths meet back up, you get lucky, and the way you've changed is still compatable with the other person and the way they have changed. But all too often, too many separations leave you reuniting with a person you hardly know anymore.
She came to visit last week, and I quickly realized that the girl sleeping on my hide-a-bed was not the same girl who's hair I once held back while she puked. She's a different person now, as am I. I could provide you with a laundry list of things she said and did while she was here that left me absolutely flabbergasted, but it's not my place to do so, and, besides, that's not the point. The things she says and does are what she needs to do in the day-to-day life that she has carved out for herself, just as I'm sure there are a million things that I need to do in my daily life that she can't stand, either.
The point, I suppose, is that as much as she drove me crazy while she was here, I know that the friend I fell in love with ten years ago is still inside her somewhere, and that's not anything worth giving up. It's true that people change -- it's in our nature to change our jobs, our social circles, our opinions and our lifestyles. But when you let someone love you unconditionally, whether it's your best friend or your lover, you're showing them a piece of your soul; the deepest, most honest piece of yourself you can offer -- and that's something within you that never changes. January 17 Why Bother?People Behaving Badly #14
ap·a·thy n.
But, why? Why does no one care? Isn't Canada one of the best countries in the world? Why does no one care enough to stand up and protect it?
Why are we content to sit back and believe that one vote doesn't make a difference?
Why are we so willing to take such a complacent, "Why bother?" attitude?
Why is Gilles Duceppe allowed to debate in the federal election debates, when he stands for a party trying to rip apart the national unity of our country?
Why is Jim Harris of the Green party not allowed to debate in federal election debates, even though his party has a candidate in every riding, from coast to coast?
Why is the public so willing to accept whatever the media shoves down our throats as fact, without doing any research first?
Why are we ready and willing to hand our great country over to a pro-American lackey who's policies will take us back 20 years?
Why do we accept that we have to vote "strategically"? What's wrong with voting with our hearts, voting for what we believe in?
Why are we voting against a party, as opposed to voting for the guy we think is the best?
Why are we so quick to forget that there are literally millions of people around the world who are willing to give their lives for the right for their people to vote?
Why do I feel like I'm the only one who cares about what the state of our country will be on January 24th?
Why did the headline of today's Globe and Mail claim that a full 55% of Canadians support a Harper majority? Surely we're not that stupid... are we?
Why are we so goddamned lazy, we won't even go out on Monday excercise our right to have our voices heard?
Why, when it's the future of our country on the line, are we so goddamned apathetic? Why don't we want to retain the values we hold dear? Why don't we want to hold onto the rights and freedoms we take for granted? Why don't we want a heatlhy, sustainable country to pass on to our children, and to our children's children?
I'm not telling you who to vote for -- my opinion of who not to vote for is obvious, but I'm not asking you to vote against Harper. If you can, in good moral faith, cast a ballot for the Conservatives, then by all means, do it. But don't vote for Harper as a means to vote against the Liberals. Don't cast a vote for Jack Layton for the sole reason that it's been a while since the NDP screwed Canada over. And don't vote for Martin just to say that you had to vote for someone, and he was the lesser of the evils.
Take the time to learn the facts. Take the time to realize what you love about Canada, and what you would like to see fixed. Then take yourself down to the voting booth and vote. Do what feels right. Your right to complain about the government costs one ballot. Is that so hard?
Please, do your country a favour. On Monday, January 23rd, vote. January 13 Dont' Hate the Game... Hate the FansPeople Behaving Badly #13Most relationships come with a little extra baggage, a little quirk in the other person that you have to decide whether or not you want to embrace, or sweep under the rug and pretend it doesn't exist. For some, this baggage comes in the form of children from a previous relationship. For others, it could be an irrational phobia; others may find themselves with a partner who insists on holding onto some stupid old trinket given by an ex in the eighth grade. Me? I found myself with a man who bleeds the Blue and White. I found myself a Leafs fan.
Now, he's not one of those hockey fans where everything in his life revolves around his team. I could have stayed true to my Vancouver Canucks, and life would have continued. Our relationship would not have faltered. But in the interest of compromise, I converted. Just as a foster parent embraces her neglected, orphaned child, I adopted this beleaguered team, and I have come to love it as my own.
In the early stages of my transition from Canucks fan to Leafs fan, I operated on the logic that I am a Leafs fan, as long as they're not playing Vancouver. And for a while, this worked beautifully. I had two teams to cheer for. Double the love, double the fun. But the more the seasons went on, the more I watched games by both the Leafs and the Canucks, the more I found myself enjoying my Boys in Blue. Or, perhaps more fittingly, the more I found myself bothered by my Vancouver team. And by "bothered by my Vancouver team", I mean, bothered by the Canucks' fans.
I went to the Vancouver vs. Toronto game Tuesday night, here in Vancouver. My transition to Leafs fan complete, I passed over my Canucks sweater in favour of my Toronto jersey. It felt good pulling on the blue and white, and marching into GM Place, ready for a fight.
We weren't even inside the stadium, and already we were being told, in not so nice terms, to "Go the fuck back to Toronto, you assholes!" (Just a side note here: I am a BC girl, born and raised. I've spent a total of about 16 hours in Toronto. I will NOT be going "back" to Toronto. And if you must call me derogatory names, I would be a bitch, not an asshole. But I digress.) We relaxed a little as we entered the stadium with about eight thousand other Leafs fans. We relaxed even more when we took our seats and found that, gloriously, we were seated with a slew other Toronto fans.
And then the game began.
Not even a minute into the game, the chanting began. Songs of LEAFS SUCK resonated throughout the arena. We fought back with our most valiant cries of GO LEAFS GO. Five minutes after the puck drop, Toronto scored -- shorthanded, no less -- and the crowed booed Kilger as though he'd just drowned a puppy. Halfway through the third, when Vancouver crosschecked a Leaf into the boards, the crowd went crazy, cheering wildly. Those cheers turned to a chorus of boos thirty seconds later when the ref called the penalty. You can't cheer for an obvious penalty, and then cry foul when the referee calls you on it. Over the course of three periods, the only chants I heard coming from the stands were either, "Go Leafs Go!", or, in retaliation, "Leafs Suck!". Not once did I hear a chant of, "Go Canucks, Go!", nor did I once hear the Toronto fans stoop to the level of screaming, "Canucks Suck!", despite the obvious, rhyming ring it has to it.
Toronto lost the game, 4-3. I would really, really hate to see what would have happened had Toronto won. As we were leaving the stadium, the crowd was angry. I don't know if they were pissed off that it was such a close game, or if they were generally pissed that the Leaf Nation had invaded their building at all. Whatever the reason, they were not happy. Again, numerous times, I was told to return to Toronto. I was reminded that Toronto sucks so hard, they haven't won a cup since 1968. The headline in the paper the day of the game read, "Love to Hate -- 12 Reasons Why The Leafs Suck". The headline the day after the game read, "Told You they Suck".
I'd like to go back to that pesky little statistic that Leafs-haters always spew: The Leafs haven't won a cup in forty years. I always find it amusing that people use this statistic as a reason to hate the Leafs. Shall I remind the Canucks' fans that the last time Vancouver saw the Stanley Cup, the year was 1915 (!!!), and the team was then known as the Vancouver Millionaires? I know, I know... at least Vancouver has made it to the finals -- TWICE! -- in the last 25 years. Big whup. Second place finish only means first place loser. Let's look at the facts -- the unslanted facts, that is:
Who sucks now?
I appreciate a good sports rivalry as much as the next gal. Hell, Gary Bettman even screwed with the schedule to encourage it. But when your hatred of another team surpasses your love for your own.... I think you need to relax, take a deep breath, and remind yourself that it's just a game!! A game that, I'm sorry, Vancouver, your team sucks at.
January 09 Dear Greyhound, Next Year I'm FlyingPeople Behaving Badly #12Dear Greyhound,
I am writing to file a formal complaint regarding an experience I had while trying to get home to Vancouver, BC, from Kelowna, BC, on December 27, 2005. I have travelled with Greyhound all of my life, and have never seen such absolute chaos and disregard for customers as I did that Tuesday, nor have I ever been treated as poorly as your staff treated all of us who were stranded in your depot on that day.
When I purchased my tickets (two round-trip, Vancouver to Kelowna), the ticket agent informed me that arriving twenty minutes before departure would be more than ample time. He informed me that Greyhound is aware of high-volume over the Christmas holiday, and would be running extra busses on high-traffic routes accordingly. Not comfortable with only twenty minutes, my travel companion and I arrived at the Kelowna depot at 10am, for an 11:00 bus. What met us when we arrived was absolute pandemonium. About two hundred people were mingled about inside the terminal, with absolutely no rhyme or reason other than "get as close to a door as possible". Doors leading out to loading bays were not labelled with desitnations. The only Greyhound staff to be seen were two women behind the customer service desk handing out baggage tags, and a couple of young men outside sorting cargo and luggage.
Not panicking too quickly, my boyfriend and I tried to "line up" (I use the term loosely, it was more "stand behind this other guy who's luggage is also tagged Vancouver"). At about 10:45 a bus pulls into Bay #1 and the digital display above the driver says it's destined for Vancouver. No announcement was made by any Greyhound staff informing us whether this was our bus or not. The crush as people tried shoving, pushing, clambering towards the door to Bay #1 -- where we happened to be standing -- was absurd. I watched as a woman entered the depot at 10:40, pushed her way to the front of the room, and boarded this very first bus to arrive. My boyfriend and I stood helpless as we watched two busses come and go, many of the people on them having just arrived at the terminal, like the aforementioned woman. Finally, a little after noon, we found ourselves standing on the platform with about twenty five other people, watching as the second bus was about to pull away. The driver of this second bus told us to stay put, another bus was "just around the corner" and we were guaranteed to get on that one. About half an hour later, a Greyhound finally pulls in -- to Bay #3. (The driver of the previous bus had told us to stay where we were, at bay #1). The crowd of us on the platform let out a jubilant Hooray! as the bus pulled in. Oh, how shortlived was that, though. The driver of this newest bus got off and told us all to calm down, he was headed to Calgary. He then proceeded to bark at us, "Why are all of you on the platform, anyways? You have to be INSIDE the terminal unless you're boarding a bus." We tried to relay the information we had recieved from the driver of the bus that had left; that we had been informed to stay where we were, and that we were expecting this bus to be our bus. He simply repeated again that all passengers must be inside the terminal. When we tried to explain our frustration that the only way to get INSIDE would be to go around the building to the other set of doors (and therefore, to the back of the "line") the driver got angry with us. He kept repeating that "the other driver isn't here (the one who told us to wait there) and that if we didn't move ASAP, he would call the police and have us arrested!
I'd like for you to please make note of the fact here that this is only the SECOND communication we have recieved from any Greyhound employee in the 2+ hours we've been here. The first thing any Greyhound employee told us was to STAND ON THE PLATFORM. The second thing we hear from your staff is GET OFF THE PLATFORM OR I'LL HAVE YOU ARRESTED. What kind of customer service is this?
A baggage handler reluctantly comes out and tries to move the crowd inside back far enough for those of us on the platform to get inside. When, exasperated, we asked her if she was surprised that there were so many people travelling the day after Boxing Day, she replied that, "Yes, it was quite a surprise." May I ask how many years Greyhound has been in business? Haven't you dealt with the Christmas season volume in the past? Did you not pay attention to the number of people travelling TO Kelowna? Did you not think that at some point all of us would be making the return trip FROM Kelowna?
It's now about 12:30, and my boyfriend and I have been standing in the Kelowna depot for two and a half hours. There is still nary a Greyhound employee to be seen, and the crowd is starting to get restless. My boyfriend and I watch in horror as an elderly woman approaches the Customer Service counter, simply trying to ask What's going on? When can we get out of here? In response to this little old lady's questions, the gal behind the counter begins to close the gate!! Let me repeat that: An elderly customer asks for assistance, and has the door slammed in her face, literally. We overhear the woman behind the counter as she closes the gate, telling this old woman that she has no information with regard to scheduling. Apparently, Greyhound has outsourced the planning and scheduling of travel and information to a third party. When asked, "Who has the info?", the response comes back that he is TOO AFRAID TO COME INSIDE AND FACE US. I'm sorry, but that is a completely unacceptable response. Too afraid to face us? Seriously, at some point you must think that I am just making this stuff up. And believe me, I wish I was.
 Fast forward about half an hour. It's now just after one o'clock. If you're still keeping track, I've been standing in your depot now for three hours. Fed up with no one giving us any answers, we pull out a cell phone and call your 1-800 number. It doesn't say much for your customer service when your customers have to call a call centre to get information while standing INSIDE one of your facilites. And, wouldn't you believe it.... the assistance we recieved from your telephone agent was, "Hang tight".A buzz starts spreading around the depot as other people decide to call your 1-800 number also, hoping desperately for someone to please tell them something. Shortly after, about 1:30pm, our Mystery Information Man appears with a handful of pieces of paper with numbers written on them. Still offering us zero information, he begins handing these numbers to people closest to the door. Again, a mad scramble ensues as people push and shove, trying desperately to grab a number. Keep in mind that we don't know why we want these numbers -- we assume that they are for priority boarding on the next bus, but, no one had told us as such. For all we know, we're taking numbers to volunteer to stay the night and leave tomorrow. As the crowd of people pushes, trying to grab a number, the Mystery Info Man gets irritated. He starts barking, "Who are you? How do I know you've been here since ten? I don't believe any of you, anyways." And despite the crowd trying to work together, (Yes, that gentleman over there was in line behind me at 10:30... yeah, she's travelling with that guy over there...) the man with the numbers eventually just hands them out as he sees fit, not at all listening to us trying to point him in the right direction. And once again, people who had been waiting since early morning got tossed aside, as the 'cheaters of the system', if you will, snatched up the remaining numbers.
My boyfriend and I were "lucky", in that we recieved numbers and managed to board the next bus that arrived. Finally, at ten to two in the afternoon, nearly FOUR hours after arriving, and three hours past our scheduled departure time, we were on a bus and headed home. I don't even want to think how long the rest of the people there had to wait.
My issue is not with the delay. I appreciate that the holidays bring extra people, extra baggage, and unforseen delays. I get that. I can't fault you for that. My issue is with the complete lack of preparation, the lack of organization, and the lack of communication and information. Had you had even ONE staff member on hand to offer information, you would not be reading this complaint letter today. There were two hundred of us standing in that tiny depot, and all we wanted -- the ONLY thing we were looking for -- is an apology, an explanation, a small amount of compassion in the form of, "Sorry, passengers, this is what's happening, this is what we're doing to fix the situation, we appreciate your patience." Instead, we recieved one threat of arrest, and one "I don't believe any of you, anyways".
I expect that a refund on two, one-way tickets from Kelowna to Vancouver is not out of the question as a means to remedy this situation. As I mentioned already, I have taken the Greyhound all my life, and have only known it to be inexpensive, reliable, and courteous. However, after this experience over the holidays, I have been forced to seriously re-examine my opinion of Greyhound. Without a full refund on those two tickets, Greyhound will not even be a consideration next time I make my travel arrangements, and I will take my business elsewhere. I have attached scans of my passenger receipt for reference. The total amount of the refund I am requesting is CDN $133.75.
Please contact me at your earliest convenience at <...> with your proposed solution to this matter.
Regards,
Karen. December 19 Don't You Dare Wish Me "Happy Holidays"!!People Behaving Badly #11
(shh, quietly now, I'm only going to say this once... hurry up, now, lean in close while those politcially correct freaks aren't listening...)
...Christmas.
I mean, c'mon... we don't want to offend anybody, do we?
Believe it or not, I actually felt a pang of guilt as I wished the ticket agent at Greyhound a Merry Christmas today. He was a white man, not quite middle-aged anymore, but not quite a 'senior', either, probably waiting anxiously for his shift to end so he could run to the airport and pick up his daughter, coming home for Christmas. He sold me my tickets, chastised me for not being home for Christmas in the past five years, and as he sent me on my way, I thanked him kindly and then, gasp!, I heard myself utter those horribly offensive words, "Merry Christmas." Why did I feel so guilty about what should have been a perfectly polite exchange in conversation?
Because the media has decided that it is now taboo to wish others a Merry Christmas, that's why. Canada is not a melting pot, so I'm told; it is a mosaic, and we are supposed to honour other people's cultures and not impose our own upon them. It's what sets us apart, I hear. The Politically Correct Movement (from hereon out referred to as the PC movement) has made it's opinion known that the Muslims and the Jews and the Hindus and the Mormons and the Buddists who now call Canada home are offended and uncomfortable with the month-long Jesus fest us Westerners insist on throwing once a year, and out of consideration for other reliigions of the world, we should think about toning down our celebrations.
I realize that I am walking a very thin line here and am on the verge of offending many, and perhaps even sounding like a racist. This is not my argument at all, and please don't interpret my words as such. I am simply frustrated that the PC Movement has taken this issue so far, we've done absolutely everything and beyond to ensure we don't step on toes and offend, we are actually sacrificing our religion and our beliefs to accomodate the minority. At a time like this, in such a situation, I find myself wondering, What would Jesus do?
I'm not a religious girl, and I won't pretend to be. I was baptised, sure, but I don't practice. That doesn't mean I don't feel something magical on Christmas, or that I don't stop for a minute on Christmas Eve and contemplate the meaning of it all. And I don't think that in my country, in a city that can throw a Chinese New Year street party, and a Diwali Day, and festivities for Hanukkah; I don't think it's appropriate that we have to sweep the majority under the rug, and go about our holiday celebrations pretending Jesus never existed, or that our day doens't have religious meaning.
I can't speak for the majority of the minority in Canada, but I know for a fact that I would be disappointed and embarrassed if an entire nation suspended, or toned down, their religious celebrations on my behalf. I mean, if I were to up and move to Isreal, there is no way I would expect Hanukkah to be muted, even just a bit. Quick, pull the latkes out of the storefront window... there's a Christian walking up the street. She might feel uncomfortable! It's a rediculous thought, if you put it in a different perspective, no?
I'm just saying... we focus so much energy and attention on making sure that all of our guests get the same size piece of the pie... we've forgotten to save a piece for ourselves. Besides, if we remove religion from the Christmas equation, all we're left with is mass consumerism. That's not what Christmas means to you, is it? August 22 For trying to do the right thing...People Behaving Badly #10Further to my last post...
I went out yesterday afternoon to grab some groceries, and happened to see the front page of the Sunday paper. 18-year old Jason Hererra was stabbed to death around 1:30 in the morning, after walking his girlfriend to the bus stop and getting her on the bus safely. Ironic that the only reason he was out at that time of night was to ensure the safety of his lady. Jason was described by family and friends as "someone who loved life", and was "always smiling". For trying to do what's right -- ensuring his girlfriend got home safely -- he's attacked for no apparent reason and another young life is cut short.
What the hell is wrong with this world? August 18 Nothing to be afraid of, folks... they're only children...People Behaving Badly #9On November 28, 2003, my next-door neighbour was swarmed and brutally beaten by a group of kids while he walked home from a basketball game with his friends. Jomar Lanot, a 17-year old immigrant from the Philippines, died later that night in hospital of his injuries.
I can't tell you how heartbreaking it was to see his mother in the hallway of our building in the days following the attack. Or how wrong it felt to see his brother talking outside to the prying news cameras, wondering out loud how this had happened to his family; a family who had recently arrived in Canada in search of a better life. Or how it didn't seem to matter anymore that the loud bass coming from the stereo in the next apartment was suddenly silenced... it was quiet now for all the wrong reasons.
 Jomar is not the focus of this rant. Jomar is the personal touch that I can add to this story, because I knew him. I'd spoken to him. And in a breath, he was gone, and lives were changed forever. But while Jomar's death may have been in vain, Jomar's family is not alone. 14-year-old Reena Virk was beaten and drowned in a Victoria waterway in 1997, by a 15-year-old classmate. In 2000, 14-year-old Dawn-Marie Wesley names three of her peers in her suicide note, as tormentors who's bullying was slowly killing her. In September, 2004, a 14-year-old girl is viciously beaten by two female classmates, while nearly 30 bystanders stand on the sidelines, some cheering. November, 2004, 16-year-old star basketball player Andrew Stewart is swarmed, beaten, and stabbed to death; a 17-year-old is charged. The list goes on and on. And on. And these are just the "big" stories; the ones severe enough to make the headlines. How many thousands of children like little Dawn-Marie Wesley endure this abuse day after day after day, suffering in near silence? Why are so many kids dying at the hands of their peers?It's easy for the parents of the accused to place the blame on society. On video games. On violent movies and music. On peer pressure. On anything as far away as possible from the actual root of it all: themselves. Yes, that's right -- I'm suggesting that much of the blame for these incidents can be traced directly back to the people who raised these aggressors. Not once have I heard the parent of one of the accused stand up and admit that, "You know what? Maybe I wasn't a very good parent. Maybe I could have prevented this."
This is not to say that all of today's parents are bad people. Or even that they're all doing a bad job of it. But the fact remains, a large number of them are doing a bad job of parenting. Kids today are being raised knowing no respect, no responsibility, no accountability. They're being raised in rose-coloured bubbles, truly believing that they are the be-all and end-all. It's normal for teenagers to believe that they're invincible, but when an entire generation of kids grows up believing that they are infallible, then we have a problem.
I blame the "modern" parent. The one who, upon finding their child has done wrong, asks the child, "How do you feel about what you did?", instead of asking, "Why on God's green Earth would you do something like that??" The one who, instead of grounding or (God forbid!) spanking a misbehaved child, punishes their child for doing wrong by taking away one of their many techo-gadgets. The one who, instead of spending time reading to their child, sits her infront of the television, then, although amused, wonders where four-year-old Sarah learned the word "fuck". The one who, without even attempting to discipline their misbehaved child, throws their hands up in defeat and runs merrily off to the drugstore to refil little Billy's Ritalin prescription.
A good example of the "modern" parent at work: Just yesterday, as I was walking home from work, I passed a woman walking with her child, about five or six years old. The boy was carrying two -- yes, two -- ice cream treats, and by his face, he had just stopped crying. Passing her, I overhear her talking to her son. "See, Tommy? You said you didn't like the first one you picked out so Mommy bought you another one. Aren't you a special little guy?" I'm wondering if the Mother just mixed up the words "selfish" and "special". I missed the lead-up to her conceding and buying another treat for him. But from the look of his puffy cheeks and snotty nose, I knew he threw one helluva tantrum to get that second Popsicle. Now, a good parent doesn't buy the kid a new treat just because he threw a tantrum. And a good parent certainly does not reward the child by telling him he's special for having two treats now. A good parent takes away the first treat, tells the child that selfish kids don't get special treats, and take the little guy home, candyless. How hard is that?
Oh, wait... I get it now. It's hard, because of the whole, "This is going to hurt me more than you" spiel we hear from parents all the time, right? Well, I've got three words for all of you parents afraid to see your kids cry... GET OVER IT. Parenting is not about making friends with your child. Parenting is about doing what is in the best interst of your child. And often, unfortunately, what is in the best interst of your child is not even close to what the child is interested in. Kids need to be taught respect. They're not going to learn that on the playground, if they don't learn it at home, first. Kids need to be taught about manners, about morals, about doing what's right, even if it's a hassle, or a sacrifice, or just not fun. We can't keep raising our kids to believe that, "No" means "Ask her again until she says Yes". We can't keep raising our kids to believe that they deserve everything they want. And we absolutely cannot continue to raise our kids to believe that the Chen's are not as worthy as the Jones', or that violence is an acceptable means to end a disagreement. And as long as parents continue to let these kids grow up into monsters -- lacking morals, lacking respect -- innocent kids are going to continue to die at the hands of their peers. August 10 Oh, Sorry. Did you get in my way?People Behaving Badly #8
It's stunning how many people lack such simple common sense.
Who's never been stuck on the sidewalk behind a group of people walking three or four abreast? Don't you just love it when the jackass on the bus beside you sneezes without covering his mouth? Or when you get stuck in the rain without an umbrella, only to find that the dry space under the awnings is occupied by people with umbrellas? Or the people who try to butt into line ahead of you: "Oh, sorry... were you here first? I didn't see you there".
I'm getting tired of muttering under my breath about someone's ignorance every time I encounter someone acting like a selfish punk on the street. Sometimes I make a comment to them, but this day and age, a comment like the one I think they deserve will most likely result in my getting my ass kicked. So usually, I just think of something smart to lip them off with, then continue on, replaying the scene over in my head, bitter and pissed that I didn't say something.
So below, I leave you a small request list... a little 'cheat sheet', if you will. Feel free to print it and carry it with you, if you think you might be one of the people who do things as I've described above. Whether or not you actually do, I couldn't care less, but for the love of GOD, people, please start thinking about more than just yourselves when you're going about your days!
It saddens me that it's come to the point where people need to be reminded of the most basic niceties. I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only one in this country who was raised properly -- Please, Thank You, Bless You, No Sir! -- and I'm starting to wonder where all the "politeness" that Canadains are globally known for has gone. We're raising a generation of spoiled me-me-me kids who know no better, and don't really care. When you strip it right down -- when you take away the race and the religion and the occupation and the sexual identity and the material possessions -- we're all the same, arent' we? Ten fingers, ten toes, one head and one heart. We're all human. We're all stuck on this planet together. And until we can all come together and learn how to respect each other, we're all going to continue to pay it backwards. August 04 Can't We All Just Get Along?People Behaving Badly #7My God, people. No wonder Vancouver has a reputation as a "no fun" city. Every time we try to have a fun, safe event, someone always ends up getting hurt. I know, I know -- it's "to be expected" that something will go wrong when you put half a million people on a beach. But, why? Why should it be expected? Why should we just accept that this is fact, that losers out there are going to bring weapons to events like these, events that are supposed to be safe and family friendly? Is it really that difficult to go out for one evening and have some fun that doesn't involve any bloodshed? Sadly, though, I fear that I am asking too much of society.
If I've lost you already, let me back this up. Every summer in Vancouver, for four nights, we host the Symphony of Fire -- a huge International fireworks competition choreographed to music. And every summer, half a million people line the shores of English Bay -- some arriving as early as ten o'clock in the morning -- to get a prime viewing spot of this spectacular, twenty minute show. And every summer, without fail, some jackass brings a knife, or a can of bear spray, and some poor soul who expected nothing more than a nice evening out, ends up getting a whole lot more than he bargained for... in this case, a gaping hole in his abdomen.
Perhaps I've already answered my own question. I suppose, if you have people arriving up to twelve hours early to see a twenty minute show, it might be a fair assumption that a few of these people will find themselves restless by the end of the evening. If you have hundreds of thousands of people crammed onto about twenty-five or so kilometers of shoreline, waiting in the hot sun all day, drinking beers to cool themselves down, it might be safe to say that a small handful of these people will get, shall we say, rowdy.
But the question still remains: Why? Why do some people lose all common sense and assume a pack mentality the moment they find themselves surrounded by a crowd? Granted, it is, for the most part, the younger generation causing the majority of trouble. But is that what we blame this on? The fact that 'kids will be kids'? That's hardly a justifiable excuse for violence. Besides, this is a generational phenomenon. Our parents' generation would not have reacted to last night's fantastic show by stabbing an innocent bystander. Even if the bystander wasn't so innocent, I don't think the 'kids' thirty years ago would have resorted to violence of this level. And if anything had escalated to this level thirty years ago, I'm sure it would not have been "expected".
So do we blame this on the fact that "today's kids will be 'kids' -- voilent, angry, and selfish"? That's hardly an excuse, either. Why is it that the youth of today are so disgruntled, so easily annoyed? Why, when the toys todays' youth has are a thousand times cooler than the ones we grew up with? Why, when they are coddled and spoiled and made to believe that they are superior, who can do no wrong -- why, then, are they so angry? Could it be because they're starting to realize that, when away from mommy dearest, they aren't, in actuality, so special?
Spoiled kids and the people who raise them. Next time, on People Behaving Badly. August 03 I Get High With A Little Help From My FriendsPeople Behaving Badly #6Oh, Canada. We've gone and done it again. If it's not our pro-gay stance, it's our anit-war stance. If it's not our anti-war attitudes, it's our complacency, eh? And if it's not that we're too complacent about things, it's that we try too hard to be like them. But sometimes, all it takes is a little bit of bud between friends to make the US positively squirrelly.
Following two short weeks on the heels of the discovery of a cross-border drug smuggling tunnel, Canada's own self-proclaimed "Prince of Pot" has been arrested by American authorities in Halifax on charges of conspiracy to manufacture marijuana, distribute marijuana seeds and launder money. That's right, kids -- Marc Emery, who has tirelessly led the crusade to legalize pot, has been arrested by American authorities for selling marijuana seeds through the mail to American citizens, and the US is now asking Canada to extradite Emery to the States to stand trial. What would be a minor, pesky fine in Canada could possibly turn into years in prison south of the 49th.
It begs the question: Are we too lax, or are they too uptight? As a smoker, myself, I'm inclined to think that the Americans are too uptight, that they're simply jealous of all the good stuff that's so readily available up here. But on the other hand, I can't ignore the argument that if the tables were reversed -- if it were an American crusader for the NRA selling mail-order handguns to Canadians -- our whole nation would be up in arms over it... no pun intended.
Do the Americans have a right to do this? Cross the border into our nation and charge a man who, for selling seeds, our authorities saw no reason to apprehend? Lord knows when it comes to foreign policy, the US doesn't exactly have the best track record with regard to going through the proper channels. I'm no lawyer and I'm not about to start making assumptions on what the practices and procedures are when it comes to trans-national law. But it seems to me that Marc Emery isn't the one breaking an American law; the people buying his seeds are the ones breaking the American laws. No doubt Emery is breaking Canadian laws -- I can't argue that, either -- but I would think that the American "War on Drugs" would have bigger fish to fry than a guy in Vancouver selling marijuana seeds. What's that? There's a huge shipment of cocaine coming into the docks? Never mind that! Some pothead in Canada has been selling marijuana seeds to the American public!
Change is progressive. It doesn't happen overnight. Imagine if no one had stood up and demanded that women have the right to vote? Imagine if Rosa Parks hadn't refused to move to the back of the bus? I'm not saying that I expect everyone to come around and be accepting of marijuana. But I do believe that it's due time for the stuff to be legalized. The money the government could make off the tax alone is rediculous. Never mind the fact that I stil can't understand why booze is OK, but pot is not. When was the last time you heard of a group of stoners starting a riot?? Hey, man... we should, like, go and start some, uh... never mind... wanna smoke another joint? Or when was the last time you heard about a guy pushing his wife down the stairs, 'cause he was just so aggressive and angry from the joint he just smoked? Seriously. Pun ten strangers in a room, and more than one of them will be able to tell you a story about how alcohol has ruined their lives in some fashion. How many of that group could say the same about pot? July 31 Always on my MindWell, I can't say my life turned out in just the way I planned
and maybe down the road someday, I'll need a helping hand
'Cause I'm tired of all the shit I've seen, and the things I'm forced to do
but after all is said and done, I'll be coming home to you.
I've had my share of love affairs, and my fill of one night stands
but I can't seem to find the road back where it all began
And if I need a place where I can go when I have nowhere to go
what it all comes down to, you're the only home I know.
I once believed my life would be a fairy tale, of sorts
but twist and turn along the way, and I lost that dream, of course
Now somehow, I will make it through the fire and the flame
and I'l come out on the other side, but my heart won't be the same
'Cause I broke a lot of promises, and I told a lot of lies
Seems these days I pay the price, I guess it comes as no surprise
But you stood by me through all the good, and you helped me through the bad
and looking back on all those years, you were the only strength I had
July 29 Would You trade a human life...? Part IIPeople Behaving Badly #4.1I was not able to find an article to link this to, but I thought I might add a follow up for those who have been following this story. As I mentioned below, a couple of days ago, a busload of Vancouver transit passengers decided that they were too important to stop and help a felow human, who just happened to inconvenience their days by -- get this... having a HEART ATTACK on their bus. Oh my Gawd, how incredilby rude! Can you imagine?? The nerve of some people. Sheesh.
There was a follow up to this article in the newspaper today. The BC Transit Union and the bus driver himself have come out of the gates swinging, claiming that our Good Samaratan has skewed the story and that what we read in the papers was not at all what happened that day. Apparently the Samaratan did not clearly communicate the problem to the driver. How hard is it to communicate the fact that someone is in cardiac arrest?? How do you even need someone to tell you that?? Isn't that something that would be pretty obvious?
Don't worry though -- the driver of that bus was punished. Oh, yes... he got what he deserved. He recieved -- and thank god our system works -- a TWO day suspension. Not for being a jackass and disregarding a human life. No, we wouldn't get that lucky. His suspension was for failing to report an incident. Do you believe that? He didn't tell his supervisors what a jackass he was, and got punished for that. Fuck the old guy who just about died on your bus. You didn't tell us about it. Tha'ts what we're suspending you for.
Good God. Thankfully, I walk everywhere. But again, that's a story for another time. Grand Theft Auto: National UproarPeople Behaving Badly #5What the hell is wrong with parents these days? Or politicians?? I tell ya, the world gets stranger by the day.
Let me sum up this post in five words: Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas.
It's quite simple, really... let me break it down for you: Parents don't want their kids playing graphic, violent video games. But adult gamers are tired of playing rainbows-and-bubble-gum-don't-you-dare-offend-anyone video games. As caregivers, parents don't want games like GTA: SA on the shelves for their children to look at, get curious about, pick up and play. But as consumers, adult gamers are demanding there be games out there with mature content they can enjoy. For some reason, the game developers are not comfortable with letting the ESRB slapping an Adults Only label on any game, because "Adults Only" somehow assumes pornography. Not just "not-child-friendly". People hear "adults only" and assume it contains pornographic content. Retailers don't want to sell porn -- leave that for the sleazy XXX shops on Granville Street -- and game developers don't want retailers not to sell their games. So games that are obviously NOT intended for 15 year old kids get slapped with a Mature rating, which classifies the content as suitable for 17+, and even though the game is obviously for mature adults, they won't put an "Adults Only" rating on it, for fear that the general public will confuse "excessive violence" (which, seemingly, is OK) with "pornographic", which bless my virgin eyes, is not at all acceptable.
The current uproar -- as if GTA didn't get enough free publicity as is -- is that there is "hidden content" in the game, which, if manipulated properly via a downloadable mod, will show the user a very pixelated sex scene between the game's main character and one of the, ahem, ladies of the city. Now, don't confuse "hidden" content with "unlockable" content. This is indeed hidden -- inside the disc, inside the source code. I've never seen the "Hot Coffee" mode personally, but from what I understand, it's quite a process to hack into and find. Kids have a much better chance of picking up this month's Playboy at Safeway than they do of ever seeing this quote unquote sex scene.
 And yet everyone has their panties in a bunch because of this. Never mind the fact that a player can pick up a hooker, have sex with her, kill her, and steal back their money. This game has hidden sex in it!! Never mind the fact that the player can perch atop a parkade with a sniper rifle, decapitating pedestrians with a single well-aimed shot. There's a sex scene hidden in the source code of this game!! Never mind the fact that this game glorifies the gangsta life, setting the gamer out to build his posse and gain the respect of his homies through any criminal means possible. Did you hear me, folks? This game has SEX in it. S-E-X. That dirty, dirty S word. And it, my friends, is corrupting our youth.Oh, how I long for sarcasm to come across on paper as it does in spoken conversations. Does anyone see the ludicrousness of this? Blowing off someones' head with a sawed-off shotgun is OK for our children, but a bit of lovin' between two people is not?? Violence, good. Romance, bad. What the hell is wrong with this picture??
I can take this rant in so many different directions... which I think I'm going to have to do at a later date. I'm pissed that there are parents out there who do nothing but cry foul too late -- always looking to lay the blame on someone else. Take the case of the 80 year old grandmother who bought the game for her 14 year old grandson. What does she do when she sees the content in the game? She sues Rockstar, the developer. Like it's the fault of the guys who made the game that she stupidly ignored the "M" rating and bought it anyways. I know that when I bought my copy of the game, I was asked to show ID and was asked to sign a waiver that the person I was buying it for was not underage. I bought my copy at Toys R Us, mind you, but what's wrong with demanding that the people who play these games are not kids?? There's no way in hell the guy at Rogers Video would let a fourteen year old rent House of 1,000 Corpses... it has an "R" rating. So why can the same kid get an "M" rated video game from the same place?? The word "game" does not always translate to "safe for children". It's about time people started realizing that the average gamer is 30 years old. We're not spending our allowance on games... we're spending our paychecks. I'm about sick and tired of lazy parenting getting in the way of the games that I want to play. It's not the developers fault that the content is above the heads of fourteen year old kids. They are simply delivering what the audience is asking for. And we, as gamers, deserve to be demanding graphic content. Let me repeat one more time -- "Game" does NOT mean "safe for kids". Lets stop pretending this is something that it isn't. Let's start calling it what it is: Adult entertainment. I deserve at least that much. July 25 Would you trade a human life to get there on time?People Behaving Badly #4This is a great big shame on you to all Vancouverites. What the hell is wrong with people?
Read This Link. Go Now. I'll Wait.
OK, you're back? Good. Fine piece of feel good literature, ain't that? I'm not going to bother paraphrasing it for you if you didn't bother reading the link. You can't join the discussion if you didnt' read the book. That said, who the hell feels good about leaving an 83-year old man in cardiac arrest on a crowded bus, citing they have "places to be"??? It's bad enough that a bus full of people were too preoccupied with themselves to consider that this man is someone's father, someone's husband, someone's brother -- a member of someone's family. As far as these passengers were concerned, this poor man having a heart attack on their bus was simply another hindrance in the way of the grocery store, the job interview, or home. And the driver didn't seem to be much more sympathetic, now, did he? I believe his words, to quote the article, were that "his shift was over, and he and other passengers had "places to go." Who the hell says something like that to another human being requesting help? Seriously? Am I the only one who finds this incredibly wrong?? Now, I know that Vancouver transit operators are at best, surly, and at their worst, downright miserable. I've seen my share of disgruntled workers, I had a regular driver who I was convinced could go postal on us any morning. I appreciate the stressful jobs they have, but... guess what, buddy? We all have stressful jobs. None of us get paid enough for what we do. But we shouldn't have to think twice about helping someone who is obviously in serious need of our assistance. And not one passenger on that bus has the right to believe that where ever the hell they were trying to get was more important than Kaymen Cheng's life. Mr. Cheng, apoligies for the appaling lack of respect you were shown on that bus. To Jacqui, the Samratan who stepped in and, in Mr. Cheng's familiy's eyes, saved his life -- thank you for reminding me that there is still some good in this world. And to the passengers, and most importantly, the driver of that #19 Kingsway bus... shame on you. I hope you read that article, I hope you see the six o'clock news, and I hope you feel like shit. You're lucky it wasn't your father, your husband, your brother. Imagine if no one cared enough to try to help him? July 23 I am poor at driver. Thank-you for your favor.People Behaving Badly #3Everyone has things that they know they're good at. Myself, I know I'm good at cooking. I'm good at writing poetry. I'm good at grammar and spelling and math. We're proud of these things that we're good at, and we like to show others what we're capable of. And then there are those things we're not so good at. I'm not good at dancing. Or drawing. Or running. But I don't like to make this lack of talent public unless I am in a situation where the fact that I can't dance is soon to become quite apparent, anyways. For the most part, if people don't need to know that I suck at something, I'm not going to tell them. Of all the things that it can be said that people are either good or bad at doing, driving is one of the most hotly contested abilities. We all know women are bad drivers. So are the elderly, so are young teenage boys. Heck, teenagers are bad drivers regardless their gender. Immingrants are bad drivers, your parents are bad drivers, cabbies are bad drivers... it seems that in someone's mind, everyone is bad driver. Everyone, that is, except you. We all believe that we, ourselves, are good drivers. Much like we all believe that we make the world's best spaghetti sauce. Find me someone who admits to being a bad driver, and, well, I won't be getting in the car with them, that's for sure. So imagine my surprise when I saw this driving up the street one fine Vancouver day. As I'm walking over the Burrard Street Bridge, I see her car fly past me, weaving in and out of traffic. She's a younger woman, mid-twenties, perhaps... and I probaby wouldn't have given it another though if she had been coming towards me. But as it was, she was passing, and I managed a good look at the rear windshield. She's covered -- and I do mean, covered -- the entire back window with white poster board. ('Cause, really, who needs rear-view when you're travelling forward??) And in big, thick black Sharpie* marker, she's scrawled the words, "I am poor at driver. Thank you for your favour". I"ve obviously had to mock this up in PhotoShop, as I didn't have my camera on me that day, but I'm sure you get the picture...
And she's driving up the street -- weaving back and forth across three lanes of downtown bridge traffic -- without a care in the world, tra-la-la-di-da, as if this little signage she's added to her ride grants her total immunity. But the thing that got me the most, the thing that made me just shake my head in absolute amazement, was that the sentences don't even make sense!! Poor at driver? Thanks for my favour? I mean, if you're going to go out of your way to say thank you to your fellow drivers, you'd think you'd want to make sure it was heart-felt and genuine, wouldn't you? Sloppy spelling and the wrong choice of words just makes me feel cheapened, like you really didn't put much thought into it. So now I'm not as willing to be forgiving; to give you a "favour", as you say. It just makes me wonder how, and where, some people got their drivers' licenses. And it makes me thankful that I don't drive in this city. Mind you -- being a pedestrian in Vancouver is just as dangerous as being on the road yourself. More dangerous in some places. But that's a story for another blog.
July 18 Beggars can't be... well, financially stablePeople Behaving Badly #2Before we moved to the West End, we had a crappy little loft apartment on the east side of town -- the kind of neighborhood where you can't get anything you need without riding a bus, the kind of neighborhood where the things that you can get without a transit trip, you don't really want. After humming and hawing about the crappy quality of life, the man and I seriously contemplated leaving Vancouver completely. But in one desperate last ditch attempt at happiness in this city, we decided to move to the beach.
But let me tell you -- trying to find a West End apartment big enough for two people, that will let us have two cats, and don't care that said two people have bad credit histories, is not at all an easy task. The process of looking at apartments, finding them too small, finding them perfect then finding out we can't have cats... it seemed it didn't matter what we looked at, it didn't matter how many "good vibes" we sent out into the universe... as the days dragged on and our moving day inched closer, we were starting to believe that there was simply not an apartment to be had for people of our qualifications.
One Saturday afternoon, we are walking up Davie Street, on our way to check out one of the many 'boxes' available for rent. Now, if you live in Vancouver, or even if you have ever visited Vancouver, you know that we are suffering from a pandemic of panhandlers. The streets are -- quite literally, in some cases -- crawling with them. You can't walk a block without being asked for a cigarette or spare change by a shady looking character. Once you've lived here long enough, you know enough to ignore them, and after a while, they almost blend into the beautiful scenery, and you don't even notice them anymore. Sure, it may sound inhumane, but they really are like wild animals in the sense that if you show them where the food is, they'll keep on coming back for more. The whole "...give a man a fish..." and all that.
So on this day in question, as we're walking past the SuperValu on Davie street, we are met with such an individual. He's sitting on the sidewalk and has his hat infront of him, awaiting donations. But this guy, he's talking to a friend who has stopped to chat. And as my boyfriend and I pass him, I overhear a snippet of his conversation. And it was all I could do to not stop and fly off the handle as a result of what I heard.
Remember that I am a week away from having to move out of my apartment, and as of yet, I have no where to go. It would be safe to say that my stress level was, oh, about to go through the roof. I should also clarify that even though living in the city, you get good at ignoring these beggars, unless you have absolutely no compassion, there is always still that inkling of guilt, that feeling of being better off than another, and that perhaps I should be doing more to help. It's a fleeting feeling, but still, something that's there. So as I walk past this man, that fleeting feeling comes and is about to go, when I hear his words.
His friend asks what he's up to that evening. Beggar replies that he'll be there for another hour or two, and then he'll be heading home. Did you catch that, people? Going home. That's OK, I suppose. Even the most desolate of beings need a place to lay their head. But the conversation continues.
"Yeah, I'll be here for another hour or two," the beggar tells his friend.
"OK," replies the friend. "Want to give me a call when you're done work?" Done work. Like sitting on his ass on the sidewalk harrassing people is a job. Oh, man, the boss sure is riding my ass today. I can't wait for my shift to end so I can get out of here.
"Sure, sounds good," says the beggar. "Maybe you can come over tonight? We'll have some beers, play some XBox?"
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. Did anyone else hear that? Have some beers? Play some XBox? Are you for real, Asshole? And this is the point where I damn-near lost it.
Now I don't want you all thinking that I'm some insensitive bitch. I'm not, really. I am perhaps, desensitized, but I am not completely heartless. I understand the plight of poverty -- I found myself oh-so-close to the streets on more than one occasion in my younger years. And I also understand first hand the lack of support for those with mental illness, and I accept that a lot of the homeless on Vancouver's streets need a hospital, not a handout. But jackasses like this guy -- who spend their days sitting on their asses making honest, tax-paying citizens like myself feel like perhaps I really am a heartless bitch for not supporting you -- I've got absolutely no patience for assholes like you.
As I walk past this guy, I'm thinking, "What the fuck?? I can't afford beers tonight. I don't have a new game to pop into my console. How dare you ask for my money when you are having a more extravagant evening than I am?" Granted, I don't know this guy. I don't know his story. Maybe he has some life-threating illness that prevents him from working. Maybe he's a complete nutjob doing a really good job keeping it all together in public. In that case, I'll eat my words and admit that I'm a bitch. But from an outsider, looking at a 30-something individual who doesn't look junked-out, physically disabled, or otherwise unable to sustain a job, I don't belive for a minute that you're anything more than a lazy dickwad.
As it turns out -- as you'll find that the majority of my rants here turn out -- I didn't fly off the handle. My boyfriend kept me in check and we walked on past him. I managed to toss him a dirty look as he asked me for a quarter, though. And, as it turns out , all those "good vibes" we'd sent out got cashed in that day. We rented the best apartment that day, in the absolute best location possible. All those thoughts of leaving Vancouver? Ha! Forget that. And the best part of all? I'm in this asshole's 'hood now. He has to see me every. single. day. as I walk home from work. I've given him that same dirty look every single day since the day I overheard that conversation. He knows not to ask me for anything, 'cause buddy, you know I ain't got a dime for you. July 17 The Tourist and The Ice Cream ConeSo now that this site is set up, I suppose the first order of business is, you guessed it... start exposing all those people behaving badly. I promise you, they're everywhere. Just keep on reading -- I'll tell you all where the prime viewing spots are, what sort of behaviour you can use to infuriate them, and what sorts of remedies you can use to calm yourself after encountering a subject of such behaviour.
People Behaving Badly #1I'd like to begin with the story of The Tourist and the Ice Cream Cone. Now, I live in Vancouver, and while, for the longest time I didnt' give two shits about this city, I've since come to fall in love with this place as I more and more consider it home. So, to see someone disrespecting my city is just not something that sits well with me. If it's obvious that you live here, that you're a Vancouverite, I'm almost willing to let it go. But if you make it obvious that you're a tourist, and you make it obvious that you're behaving bady...you can bet I'm going to notice, and you can bet I'm going to call you out on it.
So, I work in Yaletown, and walk home to the West End every day, straight up Nelson Street. This observance of The Tourist with the Ice Cream Cone happened about a month ago, as I was crossing Burrard Street after a rather long and hectic day. I'm standing on the corner, waiting for the light to change. I notice her to my left, standing off to the side, not quite close enough to the corner to be crossing, not quite close enough to anything else to be, well, doing anything. She's just standing there between the garbage can and the Georgia Straight box. She has a rather large backpack on -- this is not the "I'm-on-a-day-hike" kind of backpack she's carrying... this is the full-fledged "I'm travelling-the-world-and-everything-I-can-carry-on-my-back-is-all-I-need" backpack. She has a map of Vancouver in one hand, and a Drumstick* ice cream cone in the other.
Now, anyone who knows me knows that I'm all about helping others find their way. This girl was obviously trying to figure out how to get to somewhere in the city, and didn't look like she was having much succcess navigating through her copy of "Lonely Planet's Guide to Vancouver". So I thought I'd step up and offer her some directions. I'm just standing here, waiting for the light to change, remember. And helping out a visitor to your home, that's just the right thing to do.
 So I'm standing less than three feet from this girl, and I'm just about to turn to her and ask her if I can help her figure out where she wants to go, when what do I see her do? She tucks her mapbook under her arm for just a second, and then scans her surroundings. You know how people look around to make sure no one's looking? She pulls one of those, and somehow missed me watching her. Because her next step -- once she was sure noone was watching -- was to open the Georgia Straight box and dump the remainder of her Drumstick* cone into it. Like the newspaper box is a trash can. Remember, folks, she's standing right between the paper box and a garbage can. And she chose to use the paper box to deposit her half-eaten, half-melted cone.Keep in mind that this entire process took less than three seconds, from the time I turned to say "Can I help you" to the time I saw her do this. So I'm still in mid-stance, still on the verge of saying something to her. She looks up after dropping her cone in the box and sees me -- Finally! -- standing right beside her, eyes wide open, totally shocked at what I'd just seen her do. And instead of hearing the words, "Can I help you?" I find myself asking her, "Do you treat every city you visit like that?" She has a look in her eyes of a child who just got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She says nothing and turns to walk away from me. I follow her. "Seriously," I repeat, "do you do shit like that everywhere you travel? 'Cause that's just not cool." She kept on walking, ignoring me, and I let it go.
I've missed my light by this point, so now I'm waiting for the next one. There's an older gentleman on the street corner -- looks like he might have been a powerful figure in the corporate world twenty years ago. He gives me a nod of approval. I nod back as I watch the girl stroll away. Hey, someone's got to stand up for this city.
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It's that time again -- that time of year when we all start buzzing about, pulling out our credit cards to buy those seasonally appropriate gifts, and wrapping them all pretty-like to be placed under the holiday tree. We say 'Seasons Greetings' to strangers we pass on the street, and hum merrily along to the carols we hear in the mall, all references to Jesus tastefully removed, of course; never once revealing what exactly it is we're actually up to... preparing for...
At the risk of bursting the PC Movement's bubble, which I know strives oh-so valiantly to not offend anyone, ever, I am offended by this. What about me? What about my religion? What about my right to choose to say Merry Christmas in my own country? Why do I have to take the Christ out of my Christmas, just because my neighbor won't be celebrating along side me? 
And that's the other thing. Marc Emery is not "some pothead". He is the one of the world's most notorious pot activists, and what some might go so far as to call the stoners' Robin Hood. Having been arrested ten times since '94, jailed on eight of those ten, Emery refuses to back down, refuses to be silenced. He speaks on behalf of thousands around the globe, and takes the fall for us time and time again. In addition to being the publisher of 
I mean, who does shit like this? If you were not a good driver, would you advertise that fact by doing something that will clearly further inhibit your ability to do something that you already know you suck at? |
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