Professional Standards

Those last few months at my old job, right before I got fired, I was pretty much faking it, just going through the motions and hoping no one would notice.  I'd show up to work each morning, half in a daze, park my bicycle at the bike rack, and pretend to lock it.  Somehow, I'd managed to lose all five of the keys that came with the lock, and being that I'm incredibly lazy, I could see no better alternative than half-inserting the tip of the cable so it would look like the bike was secure.

Somehow, that managed to get me through those few months, although perhaps that's more of a testament to the level of pussy-ass-nerd that works in Research Park, where my old job was located.  At the end of each work day, walking towards the rack, the first fear that came to mind was not that my bike might be stolen, but that some good Samaritan might notice the lock was loose and decide to do me a favor by clicking it shut.  I probably would have ended up getting arrested for trying to saw through the cable, and the charges might have stuck because I'm too lazy to buy a registration sticker for the bike.

A lot's changed since those days, I finally went out and bought myself a new lock, mostly since, without a job to keep me occupied, I had nothing better to do that day.  It's a good thing too, because a few mornings ago, I was sitting at my computer, dicking around while drinking some coffee, when just outside my window, some enterprising goon, busting an enormous sag, walks up and starts fussing around with my bike.  He must have been checking to see that it was locked securely, that it couldn't be easily stolen.  What an industrious young man, trying to make the most of every opportunity, much more diligent than I, and he was up and about at 7 am, out there trying to get ahead, while I'm still sitting in my underwear, doing exactly jack shit.