Tormented

Growing up, I was small.  A skinny little kid with bad asthma.  A weakling that the bigger and tougher kids viewed as easy prey.  I can remember being picked on and teased on the school bus, many times by those who would turn around and be my best mate once we were off the bus.  Growing up is a confusing time, to say the least.

My school, at the time, only went up to Grade Six.  Grades Six and Seven were to take place at another school a few blocks away where I, again, was bullied by the bigger and now older kids.  One kid, Jimmy, was fourteen or fifteen years old, still in the seventh grade.  I remember Jimmy having it in for me, then he "moved" away for a few months.  When Jimmy returned, he was all smiles and nice to me..., for the first day, then the terrorizing commenced.  Later we'd come to learn that Jimmy hadn't moved away so much as he was incarcerated for the duration of his absence.  I guess this was my first glimpse into the darker side of life.

High school was no different.  I entered high school, again, as this skinny little weakling which drew the attention of another bully.  This time it was a seventeen or eighteen year old kid with a shitty little hint of a mustache growing on his upper lip, who took an interest in, not only bullying me, but tormenting me to the point where I was fearful to attend school.  Of course, this was during a time when 'if you were too afraid, too fucking bad, you're going to school'.  So I would often be late for my classes because I had to take the long way around the school to get to my class.  It was quite hellacious for me, as I recall.

This memory, the memory of being tormented in high school only recently returned to my conscious, triggered by an event that took place on Monday morning, as I rode the 86 bus to the Circle Park Mall where I like to spend time before taking over my afternoon work piece.

I sat near the front, in a side facing seat, quietly playing a game on my phone, a pastime I do to pass time on the otherwise boring trip eastbound down Eighth Street.  At the Midtown Plaza stop we picked up more passengers, one being a greasy dirty looking individual who sat in the side facing seat across from me.  I avoided eye contact, focusing on my game instead.  A few minutes pass and the figure across from me, says "Hey!"  I looked up, meeting his gaze, "I do not condone you taking my picture."

"Okay." I replied, "I'm not taking your picture.  I'm playing a game."  Then I resumed my gameplay and never followed up.  I could feel him looking at me, though, which made things uncomfortable.  Especially, a few minutes later, when he spoke up, getting my attention once again.  "Hey!  I don't want my picture taken!"  To which I informed him that I was still playing my game, even flipping my phone around to show him the screen, which was nothing more than multiple shelves with products on them, the purpose being I have to sort them in multiples of three.  It's quite challenging. 

Believing that should quell the situation, I resumed gameplay again.  However, the situation was not resolved, even with the visual evidence to prove it.  "HEY!!" he yelled again, now even more agitated, "I said DON'T TAKE MY PICTURE!!!"  That's when I kinda lost it, speaking louder to match his volume, "I told you, I'm NOT taking your picture!!  I don't know you!!  Why would I take your picture?  I'm playing a game and minding my own business!"  "F*CK YOU!!!" he yelled, "You're moving your phone to take my picture."

"The sun is behind me!!" I called, "I'm moving the phone to see it!!"  He wasn't buying what I was selling and that's when the bus driver called back to calm the situation.  I apologized as my reaction was not that of professionalism.  I was wearing my bus driver uniform at the time and should represent the City of Saskatoon accordingly.  I explained to her what was going on.  She asked if I wanted the authorities to be notified, to which I denied that it'd be necessary, figuring that the crazy guy seated across from me would accept that I'm a good dude for not having the police engage, but no.  His fury was now elevated.  I returned my attention to my game, but I could hear him seething across from me.  Then he began to utter threats.  "I swear if you take one more picture, I'm going to fucking kill you."

"Is everything alright back there?" Donna, the driver asked, to which I replied, "Sorry for the disruption.  I'm fine, but this gentleman is shooting darts at me with his eyes.  I think he wants to hurt me."  All the while, he's muttering his vile threats of murder.  Suffice it to say, despite my ability to hide my fear at the time, I was terrified.  I knew that the moment I stepped off the bus that my safety was now in question.  

He got off at the Indigo Book Store stop on 8th Street, right next to the Circle Park Mall, my destination.  I was SO overwhelmed with fear that I remained on the bus for the duration of the Route 86 through Rosewood.  I eventually did get off the bus, obviously, then went to the food court, reasoning that there'd be lots of witnesses if this nut job were to track me down and shove a knife in my back.  Yes, this was my reasoning at the time.

I remember looking up at this guy, when he sat across from me in tattered black clothing, with a ratty torn up hood draped over his head.  His complexion was dark, but his soul was way darker.  There was something not right about this particular fellow.  Not just regarding his lack of civility, but his soul seemed absent or tarnished.  He was afflicted with something that was altering his psyche.  Whether it's through substance abuse or devil worship, this man was not human, anymore.

I looked up as he's foaming at the mouth, relentlessly repeating that he's going to kill me.  In retrospect, maybe I should have had the authorities notified, but over the course of my short tenure with City Transit, I've been tackled, attacked and threatened quite a few times, already, as has many of my fellow drivers, so it's beginning to become 'old hat' at this point.  

In the past, I'd take a few minutes to gather my nerves then press on for the remainder of my day.  I tried doing the same with this situation, except the experience unlocked that fear in me that I had as a freshman in high school when that Twelfth Grader took it upon himself to dedicate his bullying to just me.  That overwhelming fear that I might be attacked or maimed or worse at some point, took over my thoughts.  So much so, that yesterday, when I was driving my Route 17, I came to a corner in Stonebridge and recognized this crazed individual crossing the street in front of me.  I was nowhere near the man, when he turned his attention to the bus and began flailing his arms about and cursing at the bus.  I immediately recognized the tattered black clothing, the dark complexion and the crazed ranting.  What stood out most was the glowing eyes.  I realize this sounds absurd, but I swear this is what I saw and for the remainder of my seventeen loop, I was distracted.  Distracted by how I was going to avoid this individual if he was going to be at the bus stop around the corner.

Do I drive right past him, as if I don't see him?  Tough to do, as there's a traffic light right there.  If I get stopped at the light, he will gravitate to the bus, like a shit-magnet.  Then I thought, maybe he won't even be there.  Alas, when I returned, he was there, indeed.  He immediately recognized me when he got onboard.  I kept my gaze straight ahead, sunglasses covering my eyes, but I could tell he was glaring at me.  My farebox was out of commission, having fallen apart earlier in the day with the prior driver.  All the potholes and uneven streets, shook the hell out of the unit causing pieces to fall about.  The angry fellow seemed perturbed by the missing device and slammed his hand down on the remaining structure.

Prior to his getting on the bus, I moved the Assault Barrier glass all the way to the front of the door.  Fat good the tempered glass would have in protecting me, considering the guy now had what appeared to be dumbbell bars in his possession.  I've been hit with a tire iron, when I was a kid.  That was no picnic, what with the sizeable lump it left on my head, so these bars could do some considerable damage to the human skull, I'm sure.

He eventually got off the bus at 8th Street and Clarence Avenue.  I looked on with a heavy sigh of relief as the psycho and his demons wandered off across the Seven-Eleven parking lot.  I realize now that the experience on Monday may have affected me more than I initially realized.  I actually feel terrorized.  But I also feel that this crazed individual was not all human, either.  Whether that be the fact that he's crazier than hell or that he's pouring something down his throat that's altering his humanity.  

I had a meeting with management yesterday afternoon, following my encounter with the crazed individual.  The terror was still fresh and after the conclusion of our initial meeting, I asked 'how I should handle this experience as it's affecting me on a whole'.  The higher ups which included one of the Supervisors who had worked with me during my probation.  He had some genuine concerns with how this individual was directing his anger and torment towards a Transit Operator IN uniform.  I could see by the look on his face that this was news to him.  I think a lot of the assaults and mistreatment of drivers goes unseen and is often overlooked by some of the supervisors and management.  Everyone views the world through rose coloured glasses which hides all the ugliness.

I was told to put in a Worker's Compensation Report, just in case my condition worsens.  I hope it doesn't as I do enjoy my job.  My future, though, is foggy.  I used to think that if I were to die under unnatural causes, it'd be from a vending machine falling on me.  Now I believe I may be stabbed or killed while working.  That's a helluva thought, huh?  But I saw it in a dream and it was vivid as all hell.

Lemonade and a Shit Sandwich

"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."

What the f*ck is that supposed to mean.  When you have a string of bad luck, you should then embrace that bad luck?  That's f*cking stupid.  If life does nothing but serve up shit, ya don't make shit sandwiches.  You simply have to grin and bear it.  Granted...  If life continues to be nothing besides shitty, you should pretty much look at the constant.  That familiar face you see in the mirror.

I've had a shit ton of bad luck in the last few years.  I've been grinning like a motherf*cker, but it's starting to really wear on me.  I continue to put on a brave face and walk head-on into the abyss.  Lately, things have been starting to turn for the positive.  Starting with the job I got working for the city over the summer.  A decent wage for a fairly easy job.  Very little stress involved, aside the last couple of days when I caught that idiot co-worker sleeping on the job rather than working.  She threatened to get some guys to come and "talk" to me.  Other than that, I liked it, but it came to an end, then nothing.

I got a call about a month later and got hired with some shady cleaning company, but I wasn't too enthused about it.  I've never had a job that I wanted to quit before I'd even started.  Then, thankfully, last week I got a call from a local grocery store who hired me after a favourable interview.  I gladly called -- er, I mean, emailed the shady cleaner boss-guy (as he never bothered to give me a phone number.... or his last name) and let him know I wasn't going to take the job he offered.  The work I've been doing at the grocery store, is fairly easy, although I've been working primarily in the frozen food department, all the while fighting off the flu that I had recently.  A lethal combination.

I got a telephone call this past Wednesday for a job interview with some courier or warehouse job that is close to my house, the grocery store is half way across town.  Not a bad drive at 10:30pm, but hella long coming home in the morning.  Traffic is insane.

I like the work at the grocery store.  It's easy, requiring little thought.  The people at the grocery store, for the most part, are nice, but the pay is f*cking shitty.  Did I mention that wage is only a couple cents above minimum wage?  There's a night premium on top of that, too, but together, it adds up to pathetic.  Hopefully, the interview I have with this new place will go over swimmingly and I can quit the grocery job.

I broke my back in three places in January of 2014 and have done very little, by way of physical labour in the months and years since that day.  The grocery job is killing my back... for a couple cents over minimum wage...  I'd assume this warehouse job may be more of the same, but (hopefully) for a better wage.

I'm holding on to hope that eventually the City Transit will give me a chance and I can prove my worth there.  I know I can drive those buses and for the wage they pay, I won't mind where I have to drive.  Even if it's through 'the hood'.  It's amazing what I'll put up with for a high paying wage...  Maybe, that's what the saying means.  When people are continually shitting on you, just smile because you're getting paid a f*ck-ton of money for doing it!! 

Religious Persecution

In recent years, the world has been going to hell in a hand basket.  Everyone is tip-toeing around, afraid to say certain phrases or make certain gestures for fear of making someone uncomfortable.  People aren't allowed to politely wish someone a Merry Christmas, as it may offend someone of another faith.  Schools no longer present Christmas pageants for adoring parents to watch their younglings stumble and stammer over difficult dialogue and terrible costuming, for it may offend someone who doesn't believe in the birth of Christ. Churches aren't even aloud to display manger scenes on the front lawns of their own grounds.  Soon it'll be taboo to position a Christmas tree in the front window if the curtains are to be left open.  Simply put...  What the f*ck is wrong with people these days?

I've never backed down from the admission that I don't believe in God or Jesus or any of that religious hooey.  I don't fault others for believing in it.  If it gives you peace, love and happiness to believe in an invisible man who created everything in the world, and nothing was ever created by mankind themselves, then that's you're prerogative.  I don't need to believe it, nor do I give two shits if you do.  I will say, though, some of my fondest memories of growing up, were from performing, albeit poorly, in those Christmas pageants.

(*I know it's politically correct to say "humankind" now, but I don't give a shit.)

I can respect any person who felt it necessary to flee from whatever backwards country or regime where their own self-preservation felt threatened.  I can respect the fact that they have found solace and safety within the borders of Canada or the U.S. or any country that embraces free will and expression.  I cannot respect any person who relocates to my country or any of those listed, and finds it necessary to impose their beliefs and wills on us, just so they don't feel persecuted.  That makes these selfish motherf*ckers no better than the oppression they fled from.  If some middle-eastern bloke wishes to wear a turban and pray to the east twice a day, that's fine, but if I choose to wish you a Merry Christmas, then suck it up and say thank you.  It's not the words themselves that mean the most.  It's the good will behind those words.  It's so rare to find genuine kindness in people anymore, that when this time of year roles around, if someone expresses pleasantries towards another, those words should be met with the same form of kindness.  DON'T raise a stink and start a campaign to ban the words.

Words do have multiple meanings, for f*ck sake!  Even the F-word itself has multiple meanings, as you can learn from this link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=26UA578yQ5g 

Another example would be the word "fag".  If you go to Dictionary.com, you'll see one of the many meanings for the word, is a verb to describe one growing weary or tired from a laborious task.  Another meaning is to fray the end of a rope.  When used as a noun, it is used to describe a cigarette or a defective piece of woven cloth.  As you read this, were you aware of these meanings or were you like me, and only believed the word to be an offensive term bestowed upon the gay community.  I'd always thought it was a bastardized term derived from the meaning of "happiness" or "fun", like in the Flintstones Theme (ie. ...You'll have a yabba-dabba-doo time, you'll have a gay... ol'... time).  Even the word "faggot" means: A bundle.  Be it sticks, cloth, or even iron bars.  I even read that it refers to balled up pork bound by herbs and breading then deep fried.  That faggot sounds delicious!

Another example was presented last year during the NBA 2011-2012 season, where a player of Asian decent showed great promise and agility.  He'd been overlooked and sold short by teams before, and even his new team, the New York Knickerbockers, had considered cutting him, but after a barrage of injuries to the roster, The Knicks gave Jeremy Shu-How Lin an opportunity to play, and the sensational Season of Lin-sanity and Lin-vincibility was born.  Jeremy proceeded to play absolutely Lin-credible for many of the games that were to follow.  Then there was the game where it was destined for the New York Knicks to lose a game.  A color-commentator remarked that the opposing team had found a "chink in their armor".  Well the accusations began to fly that this commentator was a bigot and so forth.  If you look up the word "chink", it clearly refers to: a crack, cleft or fissure;  a narrow opening; to breach, rent or cut.  It even refers to the sound of two glasses coming together, as in a toast.  At the bottom of the page, it does mention that it's also a disparaging and offensive term for someone of Asian decent.  But come on.  Shit like that is only used by the uneducated and uncultured folks.  You know...?  Like rednecks!

In the city where I reside, the city transit have digital message boards that display the route of the bus, as well as other messages.  If our local hockey team is doing well, the message may read "Go Blades!!!"  I'm not a Blades fan, but I'm not going to raise a stink over the fact that others like and support the team.  On July 1st, they read "Happy Canada Day!"  That's cool.  At during the Christmas season, they read "Merry Christmas!!!" and that is fine with me.

If anyone is a hater and does not approve of the message of good will, then may I make a suggestion.  Instead of disagreeing and raising an Anti-Christmas campaign and threatening a lawsuit, as this local f*ck-nut, Ashu Solo is doing in Saskatoon, do us all a favour and either go the f*ck back to whatever shit-hole you came from or step in front of one of these city buses that you're so offended by.  Either way, we won't have to listen to your bellyaching anymore.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE!!!
(And if you have a problem with that, I don't give a shit!)