Theater of Cruelty: I Apologize to Nick and Six Other People

by pjmcbride

Mushrooms, celery, capsicum, beans, baby corn,...

Mushrooms, celery, capsicum, beans, baby corn, asparagus, onion. Not a bit of meat in sight. Finished à la Dave (or is that au Dave?) with ground nutmeg and pepper and soy sauce. ((Uploaded to Wikipedia to showcase baby corn.)) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Begging Nick’s forgiveness? Has it come to this? Well, sort of. Nick, forgive me, for I know not what I do, most of the time.

You will recall, if you follow these writings regularly, that I excoriated Nick for taunting me because he was going to Canton Inn for dinner and I/my immediate colleagues was/were not. Tonight he reproached me and said I should have realized that his mentioning Canton is always an offer to bring us some. Well, I knew he had done that more than once before. (This was how I discovered that Woa Dip Har, however delicious, is almost impossible to eat while working.) And I was hoping he would come through on this occasion.  But he had, to my knowledge, always explicitly mentioned it before (you know, “If anyone wants something, let me know, and I probably won’t spit in it.”). And he didn’t actually offer this time, and he isn’t, you know, obligated. And I thought, in that case, it’s kind of mean of him to mention it, but hey, it’s called Theater of Cruelty for a reason. {Digression: Long ago [in the 80’s] and far away [downtown], officers were actually obligated to bring us food. We would decide where we wanted it from, and give the order to the car in that district. I assume they eventually complained, because the practice was eventually forbidden, although certain officers still volunteered to do it secretly.} Where was I? Oh yes, groveling. Well, I didn’t come out and ask him to bring us anything, because I didn’t want to be presumptuous and rude and stuff, so he assumed no one wanted anything. So tonight he had to explain to me that we’re friends, so it wouldn’t have been rude to ask, just like it isn’t rude to say all the insulting stuff that we say to each other all the time. So, to everyone who worked last Thursday–you could have had Canton, and the reason you didn’t was because Your Humble Narrator didn’t have a clue. I have a clue for you, though–anything that makes you think, “I shouldn’t have to tell her that, people just know that stuff”–I don’t know. You have to tell me. Seriously, I am socially-impaired.

I just read back over this, and it sounds like one of those apologies where someone says, “I’m sorry if you got your feelings hurt,” like it’s your fault, and don’t you want to smack those people? (It’s like “Mistakes were made.”–as if they made themselves.) But I do feel bad about our missed dinner opportunity, and I feel like I should buy dinner at Canton for everyone who worked that night, but I don’t have that kind of money. (I have the kind that says “Monopoly” on it.) And Nick, I hold you in high esteem, and I will protect you from any other dispatcher who tries to be mean to you, which is a right I reserve to myself. In case you thought I was going soft.

Speaking of people I hold in high esteem, I see the Atomic Clock now says it’s the 23rd, which means Happy Birthday to Rabecca Jo, my fellow connoisseur of the absurd. I think of you every day, and have work dreams about you occasionally. May the baby corn and the union suit never unite against you.

And speaking of less-than-estimable people, a caller described a suspect as a “toothless cranker” and a “bald-headed b@stard.” Amanda said the first description on the air (good for her!) but not the second. I would have had such a hard time not saying the second one, too. Quote-unquote, of course.

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