So, in my job role, I’m responsible for classification and security of data, amongst other things. One particular document, I have to produce weekly when updates are made, and I’d noticed that a senior team leader had left one unattended, which shouldn’t be done with confidential information. I confided in my manager about insuring all senior staff are aware of looking after the documents. He told me to leave it to him. Afterwards, I learnt his solution was not mentioning it, but writing the first name of whoever it belonged to on the front page.
I can see why he earns more than me.
I’ve decided that pedestrians need to either take tests or have to study before they’re allowed to use certain crossings. They clearly necessitate an amount of training seeing as not all walk-aholics seem to know how to use the things. Similar to motorcycles, you should only be able to progress up the chain of crossings dependant on your experience or proven aptitude.
First, there’s the little refuge crossing-ey things; these are the micro-scooter of the crossing world. As these require next to no physical dexterity or mental skill to administer, I can allow these to be used by all novices and professionals alike. Though, when someone has been sat at the child’s table for ten Christmases in a row, and have now been allowed to sit next to fourteen year old “grown-up” cousin Thomas, and Aunt Sarah has let them sip some sherry (with retch-y results), they’re reluctant to admit to their immaturity and allow themselves to be relegated to the green plastic table once again – as is with these crossings. In fact, many a person would rather cross the entire road at once (I know, right?) a good twenty feet from the crossing, just to avoid association with it.
So, when the time is right, they can take the zebra test. The zebra crossing requires a degree of material skill to employ. If there is no traffic, time is insignificant, and one can meander the stripy road at ease. However, if traffic approacheth, one must remain valiant and stride out with purpose. Hesitance on the part of the crosser results in Car Operator Frustration (COF) from seeing a crosser choosing not to cross, then crossing when the car operator has been forced, by common morality, to halt, when the crosser had ample time previously. This leads to many an unfairly impenitent curser, and general roadeaus infuriate. Once this crossing has been mastered and one’s COF footprint reduced to neutral, a pedestrian can take the Pelican Aptitude Readiness Paper (PARP).
Passing the PARP allows the walkee to fully utilise the pelican crossings, which grants users to God-like powers of traffic control. Councils up and down the land employ and pay handsomely traffic engineers to design and implement traffic control systems to make their parishes and cities run at optimum efficiency, and, currently, we’re allowing the same control to the average sidewalker. This power should not come lightly. True coalescence with The Pelican is not about knowing when to use the power given to you, but when not to. When, The Pelican presents itself, and you know it is not needed, and you can cross with no BEEPBEEP at all, then, you are at one with the traffic control system. Then, I will look at you, will bow my head, and acknowledge you as a true path-walker.
I went to the cinema last night to see the Thor/Avengers Assemble/Thor: The Dark World feature, and after Avengers, I turned to my partner and asked her what her favourite Avenger was.
She looked away, thought for a minute, and said that she thinks it was Bruce Banner/The Hulk. It was how he’s an interpretation of man’s ever present but ordinarily buried raw animalism, a modern day Jekyll and Hyde affair where an everyday person transforms into this uncontrollable beast that’s reverted to its basic instincts, but still manages to uphold some of the humanity that it’s other persona holds dear and manages to with withhold from absolute anarchistic tendencies. She said how it’s interesting watching him perform with the rest of the team, where he’s clearly struggling to rely on the support of others and refraining from attacking them, digging deep to realise the trust that Banner holds in his fellow man.
I said mine was Thor because he hits things really hard with a hammer.
When I nipped out for my lunch, I saw someone eating an orange.
Not a tangerine, satsuma, or any other small orangey-type fruit, but a full on, fist sized orange. And it didn’t look right. You know when you see something or someone, and you think “I know there’s something wrong with what I’m looking at, but I’m not entirely sure what it is.”That.This made me suddenly aware that some fruits are not socially acceptable.
The orange is quite the unwieldy fruit; very thick military grade skin, the odd bit of bitter, shoelace-like pith that needs removing from the oral cavity, and the common trend of cramming the slice in, removing the flesh with an array of gnawing and sucking motions before depositing the empty peel shell with a rather unappealing “thwwwck” all make it an awkward eat. Whereas, the kindly apple is a more, pick up and go snack; sweet and easy to penetrate outer layer, simple, consistent texture inside and a very clear danger zone where the pips live, unlike it’s more vibrant friend.
So what other fruits do fall into this acclaimed pariah category? Well I’m not too sure. Maybe kiwifruits, no one eats the skin of them (I can hear you saying “I do”, but you’re lying), so you have to approach them with the boiled egg avec spoon approach, which although is a clean and thorough, is slightly, well, wrong. It just seems so wrong, that I don’t think it’s something you’d ever do in public. I mean, just imagine for a moment that you’re tucking into your snack named after you’re favourite flightless bird with a spoon, and someone stands, points at you and shouts “Look! Look at that person! He’s eating his fruit with a spoon! He appears to be quite the fool…”
Now, I rarely give much thought to what other people’s opinion of me are, but I would heartily like to avoid the aforementioned situation the best I can. The same as I would avoid a grapefruit, except they have their own utensil for consumption, but I think that that would gather a similar amount of unwanted interest.
This scuppers my first thought, which was size. Such as a mango, whilst is perfectly commonplace dissected in a bowl, lacks the ease of being ‘tuck-in-able’ on a bench. Perhaps if it is larger than something you can quickly consume if you have to avoid danger as per animal instinct, and this is why they look so out of place. But kiwifruits dissipate this thinking.
Maybe we could just all agree, as a group, to ignore the kiwifruit.
In conclusion, any fruit that you can’t very rapidly eat when a predator attacks, thereby saving the foodstuffs you’ve managed to gather and activating your flight-or-flight instinct to save your life, should be avoided within social environments, or until you’ve retreated to your nest.
That’s a bird, not a fruit.
OI! You gonna arrest me Poitot!?
Doncaster randomer when he noticed I was wearing a suit.
I just, I, I don’t even know.