2002-11-14

Ha HAAA! Another fun-filled afternoon here in the land of civil service. I just got back from an information session about the Access to Information act. The experience reminded me of nothing so much as ingesting a fistful of horse tranquilizers, washed down with a hot rum toddy. Despite the fact that I was RIVETED by the detailed description of every single criterion for the exemption of pertinent documents from release (punctuated by an arse-rippingly hilarious story about a time when they managed to exempt a Director�s cell phone number by creatively invoking a discretionary criterion involving economic interests � oh, those wacky ATI coordinators!), I couldn�t seem to keep my eyes open. I�m going to bottle that information session and sell it to insomniacs. It�ll be bigger than crack. Fortunately for me, there was a cute guy sitting at the end of the table, so my usual escapist fantasies had a bit of concrete fodder. I hope he digs chicks who snore and drool.

Just as we were getting to the really fun bits of the legislation, the fire alarm went off. As devastated as I was to have to leave without finding out the exact procedures for processing an ATI request (although I imagine they haven�t changed much since the last time I was forced to attend THE SAME SESSION), I was thrilled to discover that I�d have a great opportunity to get some exercise and get to know my coworkers rather intimately by WALKING DOWN TEN FLIGHTS OF STAIRS, jockeying for position with about a thousand shambling cud-chewers. No real reason for the alarm was in evidence, prompting me to make loud, cheerful remarks to the tune of �If I don�t see smoke or an explosion in the next five minutes, I�m burning down this crap factory myself,� no doubt garnering me a special file in the security office. And I�m especially grateful to have had the chance to experience first-hand the beauty of the Canadian climate in November as I walked back to my own building without a jacket. I�d rather have taken my chances in the Towering Non-Inferno.

Always thinking on my feet, of course, as soon as I returned to my office and got the sensation back in my extremities, I deftly utilized a printer cartridge, a few thumbtacks and some corrector fluid to invoke an ancient gypsy curse upon whomever was responsible for setting off the alarm. Hope he wished for bleeding piles for Christmas!