Mr. Blow It Out

So, a day or two ago, Mr. Blow It Out Your Arse actually called me and apologized!  This after he called the office to learn that I was doing my job, too good of a job he said and he finally gave me the little info that I’d tried to get in the first place.

I saw one of my official Notice Of Visit notes today, still taped to a door from yesterday and there was a long missive on it about why you should give this info- this written by a neighbor who claimed to be “drunken”.  I had to take it down because it looked as if I had written it and if you didn’t read it carefully you’d have thought I was the one who was “drunken”.  A guy happened to be coming in to the building and he said, “Oh I thought you wrote that!”

I heard the word from Swedish FOS today that tomorrow was my last day, and everyone’s last day.  They actually haven’t finished enumerating Brooklyn, but I think they either just gave up or ran out of money or both.  Since Brooklyn is one of the worst Census takers nationally, I repeat, nationally!, why finish the job? it’ll just mean giving Bk more money.  My Crew Leader, I call her ‘Ayla’ left me a message saying the same thing about tomorrow being the last day so it must be true- one more day of door bell ringing, mostly useless buttons with frayed wiring.  The pressing the pressing, the Itouch for Luddites, touched a million times by delivery people, UPS folks, pizza boxers- that’s every few weeks, snow shovelers- that’s every winter, and census takers- that’s every decade.  So old fashioned.  At least it feels like you’re doing something, standing in a random doorway, expectantly pushing something.

Some kids said that they thought I was going door to door asking for money.  They said they assumed that, why else would anyone be going door to door?

One gal laughed at me as she saw me again while returning from the corner store.  Oh how embarrassing, still looking for the inhabitant of 3R?  Ha ha, good luck on that!

Oh by the way, I’m running out of generic clothes to wear.  If it’s a t-shirt, it has to not say anything provocative, nothing offensive, better yet, not say anything at all, otherwise strangers will use it as fodder for conversation outside the federal boundary.

I really feel like I’m beginning to know some people now, as some are repeat offenders, or just repeats that have begun to have character traits or have sisters now or housemates or dogs, all recognizable.  It the real thing, oh dear, it’s the REAL facebook!

I feel confident that in ten years they will do this all online, I’m already feeling nostalgic for the streets!  Maybe beat cops will just be replaced by drone robots with billy clubs and guns?  The multiple camera system is already in place.

The weather finally broke and it was cooler today.

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