moleslog04132007

So someone analyzes my responses to see I'm too stupid to be an engineer. I don't suppose I'll confuse them there. Would that were all they're looking for -- engineers or incompetents. I don't suppose they'd leave me on, leave me here to create a case, to hang myself. They dumped the temps that trained with me, all but eight or nine. And not for obvious money. We repeat that the others read too slow. The supers nod, but I can't make those numbers work. For what Ecorp spent to train that room, that hundred-something of us, the slowboats cannot have cost too much. LISG has a reason and a reason and a reason not to talk.

What might they check? We each get documents, fresh stacks, each the size of a novel in printed type. We each wade through a couple stacks or so a day. We read, we classify the text by site, date, topic, activity, personnel -- a set of numbers, a couple words. The supers get a batch, record the time, hand out another. They spotcheck everything, revise nothing. They send it back. Then slowest get laid off, plus Jim.

But I have to photocopy at lunch or evening. I skim ahead, hang onto docs overtime. I can't photocopy at LISG, of course. A guard stands at the machine all day. I didn' t have to check. Branstein told me, laughing, "These guys are crazy; what do they think we're going to do? I've never seen a place like this before."

So I copy the docs at the library, Alambres Library, just across the street. But that means I have to skim thru the docs and look for copy, then hang onto the docs til lunch or 5 oclock. If I copy at noon, I leave the copies in a copy of Sartre's Saint Genet, Actor and Martyr -- something no one's apt to disturb.

The irony of which makes this all work better as fiction, don't you think?