Demons In The Elevator

This week they came to perform an exorcism on our elevator.  

It probably wasn’t a classic exorcism, with a Vatican trained practitioner. Eighteen months ago the elevator stopped working. One day it moaned and shook, shuddering to a pained stop on the third floor, and then stopped lifting, it would still lower, but it wouldn’t elevate. Once it got to the basement it stayed there. 

Twelve months ago, several men came. “We’re from Cartledge/Bobbins elevator service.” They said when I let them in. They were short and solid, serious, saturnine, dour and grimly determined. There were deep wrinkles around their eyes, and you could tell it wasn’t from smiling. Their fingers were short and beefy and could have been made of rebar. You could imagine those fingers crushing a cement brick, the fine gray powder sifting to the floor. 

A relentless, intense aura surrounded them, a power that didn’t come from hours in the gym, pressing and lifting and honing a physique. It was a strength that came from physical labor. It was the power needed to wrestle machinery and equipment into submission. 

These were men who worked on their cars or pickups not because the cars, or pickups needed repaired but because it was a hobby. It gave them pleasure.

Over the course of five days, they tore out the mechanism, a hydraulic pump and a series of long, shiny metal cylinders that would rise and lift when fluid flowed into the chamber below. An odd combination of chemistry, engineering, and magic. Everything was replaced with new machinery. We were upwardly mobile again.

Trouble started a few days later. There was an odd bounce at the 2^nd floor, almost like it jumped a couple of inches to the side. It made a sickening thud, the same sound you hear when you drop a whole roasted turkey on the kitchen floor. At odd intervals it would make the same old shudder, and shake, a ghostly moan rose from the depths, and it would need repaired. They would come and fix, and fuss and check, and then leave, and it would be stable, for a while.

Nobody could escape the conclusion that something more permanent was necessary.

The bell rang, and I answered the door. 

“We’re from Cartledge/Bobbins elevator service.” I took them down to the basement. There were three of them. Their hair varied from close cropped to shaved. They wore heavy duty boots, and sturdy, close fit canvas trousers. They had an air of increased gravity; you could feel the intensity of their purpose. They were there to do a job, and nothing was going to stand in the way.

“I wouldn’t plan on using it for a while.” One of them said, he seemed to be in charge. He looked to be slightly older. Though, it was impossible to gauge the age of these men, they could have been chiseled from rock, or molded from clay, and fired in a furnace until they were hardened and indestructible. Prometheus would have been proud.

 “If you need anything let me know. My name’s Tim.”

They all turned to look at me. Their faces were blank, and their eyes were bright, pointed and alert. At first, I thought they didn’t understand what I said. I realized they were thinking, running through various scenarios, trying to imagine a situation where they might need something from me. They couldn’t. Neither could I.

“OK, thank you,” the leader said.

For two days there was a low, hissing sound, odd flashes of light coming through the gaps around the closed elevator doors. Occasionally, a loud bang would echo through the building. Sulfur and whiffs of smoke, a fetid, foul sense of decay, older than mankind and darker than night, and an occasional curse, would climb the empty shaft, and leak out onto the solitary confines of the mostly empty building.

Throughout the day history stumbled across the warehouse. I turned on all the lights, everywhere, the minute I got to work. The shadows were alive, and I wanted them as far away as possible. Weird things happened. Or almost happened.

Images would flash across walls, and there was a heaviness that seemed to dim the light, like a cloud covers the sun. A brief tear, and a slight chill, and then it was gone. 

“Did you see that?” Jimmy asked. 

“I hope not.” Was the only answer.

One of our co-workers went to use the restroom on the first floor, and never came back. And then there were two. Nobody wants to go look for him. A graven image was burned into the wood of the first floor, right next to the fire exit, in the stairwell by the elevator shaft.

At the end of the second day the men came up to the third floor, and said the elevator was “fixed.” The assumed leader had a piece of gauze taped to his head, slightly above the temple, almost straight above his left eye. 

They looked weary and seemed to be slightly smaller than they were 29 hours before when they turned to look at me in the basement.

It was disconcerting when they used the stairs. I watched as they carried buckets and bags of tools back to their vans. It was slow, and methodical, stooped and pained, their feet shuffled, dragging slightly. Each step seemed to be more work than the one before, leaving little trails in the dust that seemed to settle on every surface over the previous day. I decided not to offer any help next time they came.

 

One Note and the Evolution of Life Explained.

I would like to take a minute and explain something to all of the people on Google Plus who have missed me. Mom, are you listening? Just kidding, my mom is not on Google Plus. Anyway, I have been very busy.  Work has been filled with all sorts of work. I had to finish a story, a column and I am working on a novel.

One of the best parts about writing a novel is the chance to try new things. Or, old things, like One Note from Microsoft. I have been using One Note for the past several years. If you count installing it on all my devices as using it. But, I could never really figure out what to do with it. I loved having that icon, though.. 

Occasionally I would open it and try to add something. It was almost impossible to understand. I would have been better off using a puddle of blood, a pointed stick and tree bark. Since that is a clear violation of OSHA regulations I just kept the information in my head. A bad idea.

Since there is so much information in my head, and the operating system and all the hardware is outdated, and no longer under warranty I would get the most erratic results. It took a lot of time to go back through pages of my novel and find out where a character had been, and I got bogged down in the details.

Today, I was putzing around and found out how easy it was to manipulate and search data in One Note, I spent hours. Sure it isn't writing, but it was fun. And it reminded me of the song Red Angel Dragnet by the Clash "One of those days I'm going to get myself organizized."

Well, it won't be today. Because I am designing and drawing all the buildings that play a small part in my novel. You see, One Note has an exceptional ability to store pictures and I have a terrible weakness for goofing around with CAD programs. 

Pretty soon I am going to know everything there is to know about the fictional world I am creating, then I will just have to tell everybody about it, in book form. I can't wait.

Life After Death, or at Least After the Alarm.

In today's episode of Life, Is It Worth It?, we are going to discuss working for a living.  While it may not seem fashionable, and there are times it is inconvenient, having a job can be a great resource.  Of course, there are the obvious benefits of income, insurance, and a retirement plan, but it need not end there.

Depending on where you are employed there are liable to be a diverse group of people with a wide variety of opinions and beliefs.  It could be a great, seething, bubbling stew of ideas, and religions, and tastes. A wonderfully combustible mixture of backgrounds, hopes, dreams, and aspirations. What a place to learn, experience, and expand your horizons.

 Don't worry, though, those things are easily avoided, and it will be simple enough to find a few people who are noteworthy because of their striking similarity to you, and hang out with them.  If they aren't at work, they are on Facebook, or some other "social media." All of which are more enjoyable at work, while getting paid. It is like being a "professional social media mogul".

Working for a living also provides much of the grist for the mill of the economic engine that drives the elevator of upward mobility. In other words people are less likely to express their distaste for you quite so openly if you have a job. They may think you are a putz, but knowing you bring home a paycheck, and they may need to borrow a little something someday makes them reluctant to really trash you in public. Of course, if they ask you and you turn them down all bets are off.

Having a job does require a certain level of commitment, though. And an alarm clock* which can be a real problem. So before rushing out and taking that "dream job" working for that "great company" doing all of the "wonderful, fulfilling things" remember to take a minute, and stick your finger in your eye, it is the same sensation as being jolted awake from a pleasant, peaceful slumber to drag your sorry carcass out of bed and off to do some dungeon master's bidding.

But, if your'e still interested don't forget the Life Explained Employment Agency (motto, "can you afford to feed your family and pay to have our basement remodeled on that salary?") we are always here to help.

*Developed by Satan's Division of Automated Hell.

More Good News, No, More Great News.

It is now 5:30 in the morning, well, 5:36 if you are keen for precision, (I'm not), and I could not wait to bring you the good news, no the great news.  I will wait here while you get a cup of coffee, and maybe a donut, or a roll, if you want go ahead and make some toast, I will wait.  Hey, if you think I am going to sit here while you whip up a pancake, or a tin of muffins, you are crazy, this is big news, huge news.

Are you sitting?  Good, you will want to be sitting for this.

The kind people at Lefty Pop in all of their boundless generosity, and unequaled brilliance have agreed to post another of my entries.  Please take a look at it here Wow, what a great piece of writing.

If you have any decency you will rush right over, read the article and leave a comment demanding more from this unusual talent, (that would be me, by the way)  and you might want to throw in something about the wonderful toupee I am wearing in the picture.

Benefits of Employment.

Obviously, vacation is important, we all need time to relax, escape the rigors of responsibility, the demands of employment.  Occasionally, the strict requirements of occupation are oppressive, suffocating, demanding, inescapable, hounding your every footstep, hammering you with emails, voice mails, and once in a rare while real mail.   However, having a job can be a very pleasant experience, if you follow a few simple steps.

First, hire the best people you can afford, and make sure they understand you want them to succeed.  You are more than a superior, you are a mentor.  If they realize that success for you, and success for them is so interwoven, so inseparable, they will almost become indentured servants.   Make sure they understand if you fail, it will reflect poorly on them, and you are vindictive enough to drag them all the way to bottom of the pit with you.  Also, make sure they know how you like your coffee, and your life  will be much happier.

Second, use email to your advantage.  Add everybody in the company to every email you send, most companies have a distribution list that has several methods to include the whole organization, in a few brief keystrokes.  Don't worry, most people will just ignore anything from you, but a few will begin to think you actually have a little power, and in this world perception is reality.  

Also. most email clients have a delayed send feature.  You can type all sorts of mundane memos that will take on increased importance if it looks like you sent them at 2:00 AM.  Even something so trivial as "working on some stuff, going to get some coffee, anybody want anything?"  Not only does it look like you were "working on some stuff" at two in the morning, but it also implies that you are such a nice person that you would get your coworkers anything they wanted, without the risk of spending any of your hard earned coin on the ingrates.

Working can be difficult, but it can be rewarding, with just a few simple steps.  And getting a paycheck is always a plus.  Remember without a job, you can't have a decent vacation.

Should the Nobel go next to the Emmy, or by the Pulitzer?

I work in a very old building, and sometimes I get there very early, and depending on the time of year, it can be very dark.  As you walk through the building there is always a lot of noise, a symphony of creaks, and groans, and shuffling sounds, and something that sounds similar to the purring intonation  made by the velociraptors in Jurassic Park, that would be awful.  Oddly, the noises always seem just out reach of the built in flashlight of the iPhone, you can almost see the source of the sound, but not quite.  It was frustrating.

Then, I read about this app available for the iPhone that would show paranormal activity, and in some cases allow you to communicate with the spirits.

I rushed to download the app, and spent the evening familiarizing myself with the "interface."  It seemed that ghost hunting was going to be stressful enough without adding confusing menu options, and complicated gestures, so I learned where the optimal screen for my approach was and the quickest way to get it loaded.

It was so exciting, I could barely sleep.  This morning, I rushed around the house fixing lunch, slurping coffee, finally it was time to leave, a quick peck on the cheek of my lovely wife, and a cryptic "hey, clean off a space for my Pulitzer, would you?"

She replied, "you are not trying room temperature fusion again, are you?  Remember the stitches.  And I sure you mean Nobel Prize, unless you are writing an article."

"Oh, great, a Nobel is smaller, I think, They take less room, it will be much easier to make space."

Whoosh, the elevator door opened on the darkened fourth floor, but the phone was at the ready, held high and scanning the room.  A noise to the right and a quick move in that direction, and I could not believe my eyes!  There, on the screen of the iPhone was a ghost.  He was standing about 12 feet (about 4 meters), and carrying a box, it looked kind of heavy, maybe 20 pounds (about 15 degrees Celsius).

"What are you looking at?"  He asked, staring right at me. I was shocked.

"Why are you carrying a box?"  That was the best thing I could think of to say, the whole thing kind of caught me off guard.  Try finding a ghost walking through the kitchen at work carrying a box, and see if you do better.

Slowly, he put the box on the floor, picked up a ghostly thermos, poured himself a cup of ghost coffee, sat down on the box, took a sip of his coffee, lit a cigarette, and said.  "It's my job."

"You carry boxes around a warehouse, for a job, in the afterlife?"  I asked, this was almost too much.

Another ghost came over and borrowed a cigarette, and a light, and a cup of coffee, some things never change.

"Yes, I do.  Hey, it's a living, we all have to eat."  The ghost said. "It's not all we do, we take stuff out of boxes and put it in other boxes, and send it to other places. Which works out ok, because those places send us boxes of stuff. Kind of the circle of afterlife commerce."

"Do you like it?"

"It ain't so bad, last year we had Attila the Hun as the warehouse foreman, and that could be a little tense. Now we have some guy from the renaissance.  He spends a lot of time painting and talking about art and enlightenment, so it is pretty easy, and the hours are good.  We have really good insurance, including dental, and 6 weeks of vacation.  All in all it is pretty nice, and there is always a chance for advancement, they moved Attila into sales and marketing. He cleaned up real nice."

He seemed pretty content, and I was glad we met.

A ghostly whistle sounded and he said he had to get back to work.  I see him around once in a while and he is doing well.  He met a girl, and they are getting married in the spring, he said I could come to the wedding. It would be a little awkward, so my wife and I decided to pass.

Turns out ghosts have have the same problems, and opportunities as all of us.  They are just trying to get by, they struggle and they scrape, and they take coffee breaks.  So, next time you are in a dark room, and you hear an otherworldly noise, try to stay out the way it is probably just a guy doing his job.  And if someone picks up your plates and puts them in the dishwasher it might not be your wife, no matter what she says.