Feeling Insecure

Security guards cost money, and they don't always pay attention. So now they're (that's the royal "they," not the security guards) installing badge readers on all the entrances to our work section. I'm waiting with bated breath for the next casual announcement from senior management that there's no particular reason for this.

And actually I do know what, or who, the reason is. A few months ago this poor crazy bastard got let go for harassing a fellow employee. It really wasn't entirely his fault, as he wasn't quite in touch with reality - or to put it more directly, he and reality appeared not to have been on speaking terms for several years; but whatever the cause, he behaved in a manner he really believed was perfectly acceptable, and unfortunately for him, reality strongly disagreed. So I hear (not from official channels) that he tried to get his job back, was denied, and got a little hostile and made some unspecified threats. The day after this interview was the day our first new security patrol showed up.

Yesterday a work crew spent the better part of the afternoon installing a badge reader on the door nearest my cubicle. When I say the better part of the afternoon, of course, I actually mean the more horrible part; in other words, pretty much the entire hellish day. It sounded like dental work feels, and permeated my work section with a nasty, burning metallic smell. Naturally my friends and I had no choice but to go on break for most of the day. You can't work under those conditions. Why, it took me nearly an hour and a half just to finish the Sudoku. I felt like Harrison Bergeron.

Imagine our outrage, after several hours of aural torture, to emerge into the blessed, virginal silence and discover that the workmen had succeeded in installing a bolthole. Infuriated cries of "That's it?!?" were heard througout the area.

There are also problems with the concept behind this project, in that anyone who forgets to bring their badge (as who doesn't from time to time?) will have to call someone inside to be let in, because the visitor badges issued at the security desk don't open locked doors; and we have conference rooms in our section which must frequently be accessed by visitors to the site. Bets are that the first time any higher muck-a-muck forgets his badge and has to be admitted from within, the doors will be propped open from here to eternity.

Well, or until Mr. Crazy barges in wielding an AK-47; but to be perfectly honest, my bet's on Eternity. Mr. Crazy was, after all, a state employee.