A Good Imagination and a Pile of Junk

As a developer (or, well… “IT professional” is more accurate for the next 3 weeks) in the financial industry in NYC, I work with clusters of people from several ethnic backgrounds (and frankly, foregrounds.)

Anglos (that’d be cracka ass crackas like me)
Israelis
Russians
Chinese
Latin
and Indians.

These teams cluster up in a way that reveals the notion of nondiscriminatory hiring practices as, well… the total fucking joke it is. (seriously, if you believe people aren’t offered or denied jobs based on their ethnic background, I envy your simplicity.)

It’s also impossible to be even marginally observant and not notice that skin color and “language spoken in work” is not the only difference in worktime behavior.

Most notable to todays rant is what people eat.

I’m not the MOST adventurous gourmand of all time. For instance, I don’t eat things my food eats. That’s what my food is for. I didn’t spend the last 50 million years clawing and thinking my way to the top of the food chain to eat fucking kelp, sprouts, or broccoli. We have machines that pre-process that garbage into food. Those are called pigs and cows. (Yes pigs, grow up muslims. Pigs are indeed filthy, that’s why they’re good. Yes cows. Cows are especially holy when I stick a fork in one.)

But I do like trying different cuisines. I really love some good Chicken Vindaloo. I eat all kinds of weird ass Vietnamese food (but couldn’t name a single dish.)

So the Indian guys bring in these little plastic containers of god knows what and sometimes it smells really good. They pop it in the microwave or the toaster oven and sit down in the little pantry thingie and have lunch together. Frankly, I envy them that. Though it seems like they’d be having more fun if they, I dunno, spoke.

But some days the STANK is beyond bearing. I go out and wander around Best Buy or Barnes & Noble for a bit when this is the case. Rarely repeated entreaties to tone the spices down on brown-bag lunches because not everyone likes their eyes to bleed from 11:30 to 3:00 go entirely unnoticed.

So I’ve decided that the night before my last day I’m going to go to a supermarket and buy half a pound of lox. I’m going to leave it tied up in a plastic bag in my apartment on the counter overnight, and I’m going to bring it to work.

Upon getting there I’m going to poke a hole in the bag and put it in the microwave… for 20 minutes.

Then I’m going to go.

This entry was posted on Monday, May 12th, 2008 at 1:39 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.