Why do people suck?

I think about this sometimes, but not often and not in any great depth, because it’s incredibly, horribly depressing.

But when I do, I wonder, what is the default nature of people? Are we inherently generous or inherently selfish? The latter seems better-suited to survival, but since humans are also social, the former would seem to be necessary, too. The general attitude of “I got mine!” would appear to be self-defeating over the long term.

Are we maybe both generous and selfish and these values shift, they ebb and flow over generations, swinging one way, then the other? Does the key to our continued progress–however slow it may seem at times–lie in never swinging too far toward selfish?

I don’t know. All I do know is Trump still hasn’t been kidnapped by Bigfoot, so something is obviously wrong.

My only answer is to be nice to people and hope that due to the butterfly effect, everything will work out A-OK! Somehow.

Camera theft and why I hate public transit: Two semi-related tales

Tale #1:

I keep my digital camera in my pack/man purse so it’s always handy if I want to grab a picture of something while I’m out and aboot. While at work, the man purse sits under my desk, tucked beside the plastic box that holds my phone headset and a few notebooks. Last night as per usual I went for my half hour break, doing so one floor up in the 9th floor lunchroom. It is the only time during the shift that the man purse is left unsupervised, apart from a few quick jaunts to the washroom.

Today before work I pull out assorted clutter from the pack so it will be nice and tidy. I notice that the zippered pocket containing the camera seems to be camera-less. I check again and it is indeed gone. I know it was in there as I distinctly recall putting it back in after uploading the hiking photos a few days ago. The camera, it seems, was gently removed from my possession by someone at my workplace — either a co-worker or one of the cleaning staff, likely while I was on my lunch break. They would have had no idea the camera was in there, they just saw the pack and rooted through it, unquestioned by anyone else nearby, apparently. I have no illusions of ever seeing that camera again. I am equally disappointed and angry with my fellow humans.

Since I discovered this theft about a half hour before work, I was not in the best of moods for my shift. As it turned out, I would witness someone later in the evening in a much worse mood.

Tale #2:

The bus ride home from work was interesting — though nothing was stolen this time. Instead of the usual route out of downtown there was a detour down Hastings Street, with police cars a-plenty and several large swaths of street/sidewalk behind police tape but no sign of why the tape was there. I am guessing a stabbing with the perp still on the loose (update: turns out I was correct, though the suspect was caught). Once we passed this puzzling possible crime scene we picked up additional passengers: a set of about a half dozen or so early 20-somethings with some kind of light (lite?) faux punk thing happening, and a pair of heavyset men (more fat than muscle from what I could see).

These groups sat or stood in the front half of the bus. I was in one of the seats in the back, sitting next to a co-worker who lives in the same neighborhood as I do. We are quietly conversing when a rather loud conversation begins in the front part of the bus. It seemed the two groups that got on were exchanging varying levels of vitriol. One of the heavyset guys kept taunting the ‘white boy’ with ‘Last stop! Last stop! Last stop!’ with the then carefully explained threat that that is where he would beat the crap out of him. White boy (who probably weighed about 200 pounds less) murmured things back that I could not hear. The girls in tow looked somewhat alarmed at the events unfolding.

After several minutes of increasingly loud taunts and threats, the bus pulled into the stop at 12th and Clark — a tantalizingly seven blocks from my stop. And there it sat. The driver got up, walked over to Large Threatening Guy and told him, ‘This is the last stop.’ He made it clear that some people would be walking if the tone of the conversation didn’t take a turn for the kinder and gentler.

This did not happen.

The bus rider returned to his seat. Large Threatening Guy went to DEFCON 1 and promised to murder Skinny White Boy at the last stop. At this point I really was content to walk those last seven blocks but the developing altercation was square in front of the rear exit. I am thin but not thin enough to squeeze out of a bus window. So I sat and watched where developments would go.

The friend of LTG got off the bus and gingerly tugged on his ill-tempered buddy, managing to coax him partly through the door. Large Threatening Guy suddenly snapped and shot back in and quickly delivered a punch to Skinny White Boy. The crowd on the bus ravished, like the audience at a gladiatorial fight. Those standing shifted position, some striking defensive poses, others girding for the coming battle.

Instead, the friend of LTG successfully pulled his friend off the bus and the rear doors closed, leaving them to taunt from the sidewalk as the rain pelted down on them. The faux punk group all tittered in the same way people who jaywalk and barely miss getting flattened by a semi do. The remaining seven blocks of the ride proved uneventful.

So to summarize my day:

I hate my job.
I hate camera thieves.
I hate public transit.
I hate people.
I think I hate the planet.

I still like a nice slice of toast with almond butter and a hot cup of chai tea which has almost made me forget the other things.

Jogging: now featuring random hate and incitement!

Today’s jog was 30 minutes. It was overcast and about 8ºC, so pretty mild comparatively. I ended up taking the gloves off for the last few laps. This means my hands were getting warm, not that I was running down and trying to punch out another jogger. The highlight was nearly twisting my ankle dodging around one of the mud pit-like corners. That would have made for a truly awesome third run back.

Someone with spray paint and an apparent loathing for authority had been busy at the adjacent playground, as you can say in the image below I captured with my iPod camera:

kc_park

(You can click for a larger version if you like. The text reads “Kill Cops”.)

A charming piece of work to greet the pre-schoolers as they climb up to the slide into anarchy! More anarchy symbols were festooned across the rest of the equipment by whatever blithering idiot did this.

I was also going to post a pic of my dirty running shoes but frankly they just don’t look dirty enough. The forecast for the week suggests drier and colder weather to come so I seem to have lucked out so far as the rain goes on my return to jogging.

CBC News: your source for inane comments from the public

Yeah, I’ve talked about this before. Like the weather, it’s a perennial subject. Today the CBC website has a story about an investigation into a rough sailing for the Northern Adventure as it weathered a vicious storm after leaving Prince Rupert, eventually having to return. Here is the first reader comment posted by someone named “justaviewer”. Note that comments are pre-moderated, which means they get screened first by CBC staff before going up:

Send Obama out there to calm the waters – after all he can walk on them can’t he?

This has pretty much become a meme on the CBC site. Find news story, make completely unrelated comment attacking personal pet issue/person. The reader who posts next is wise to this, though and calls out the practice:

And let people start blaming Gordon Campbell, Steven Harper, and the 2010 Olympics for all of this… now!

You posters on the BC CBC Message Boards are really starting to sound like a broken record. Doesn’t it get annoying repeating the same thing over and over again?

Doesn’t it get annoying repeating the same thing over and over again?

Doesn’t it get annoying repeating the same thing over and over again?

Doesn’t it get annoying repeating the same thing over and over again?

Posted by “Dude Man”. Despite the call-out, the third comment, by “lobjob”  is:

I am sure Adrian Dix will find the storm was caused by HST panic, an NDP generated condition.

I hate being cynical concerning the intelligence and thoughtfulness of the average guy but these people, I tells ya, they test me!

No, I do not shop at The Source, Part 2

You know how often the sequel is worse than the original? Keep reading!

In my previous entry I noted the swift action of my credit union on spotting fraudulent charges on my credit card. At the time I had just assumed someone had absconded with my credit card info using digital trickery. It was not until the following day that I went to pay for some groceries that I discovered that my wallet was no longer comfortably nestled in my left rear pocket as it always was. Uh oh. I put the grocery order on hold then returned home, searching for my wallet but knowing it would be futile. It had probably been 24 hours since it went missing.

I don’t know if it actually fell out of my pocket (seems unlikely) or was stealthily plucked away but suddenly I had no wallet, no credit card, no ATM card, no birth certificate, so SIN card, no ID, nothing. I was persona non grata.

I phoned Sue and bless ‘er heart, she volunteered to drive me to the credit union to get a new ATM card. We arrived 15 minutes before they closed, the next day being a Sunday. I explain my situation but the teller says that to get a new ATM card, I will need ID. All of which has been stolen. Well. But not to worry, I could still withdraw a small daily stipend by standing in line and getting good old-fashioned cash, just like people did back in the 1890s. How quaint.

What followed over the next few days was a series of circular checks where each piece of ID I needed to recover required some other piece of ID I needed to recover. But all was not lost–literally! I still had my paper birth certificate (the plastic-coated wallet-size version was in my, uh, wallet), so I had a starting point in recovering my identity. Monday morning and I headed bright ‘n early to Service Canada and presented my certificate, waiting to hear how long it would take to get a new Social Insurance card. “This birth certificate is invalid,” the woman behind the counter said, her lips twitching mysteriously. She explained that there was no registration number on the certificate and thus it was not valid. Little did I know that 44 years ago someone was screwing me over. I wasn’t even a month old. No wonder I’m so cynical. The woman behind the counter told me I could get a replacement certificate at Vital Statistics. She looked up the location and assured me it would be “fun” to go there. Government services and fun together? Cats and dogs, I say.

But I go.

Vital Statistics is in an office on ultra-trendy Robson Street downtown, hence the “fun” or so I assume. But you know, it’s just a street downtown on a Monday morning. It’s not like there’s a Mardi Gras parade with people flashing their bits and showering everyone with candy. So I go in and I’m told I can get a legit birth certificate in five business days and for free! But only if I hand over the invalid one. I reluctantly do so, giving up the only piece of paper that states who I am.

It turned out to only take four days for the replacement to arrive by mail. The newly-redesigned birth certificate (made over in 2008) came with a sheet listing its many improvements, one of which was a size designed to be inconvenient to fit in wallets and purses, to reduce loss or theft. I expected to see “Looking at you, dumbass” after that bullet point.

The tale of ID recovery took an unexpected twist midweek when I got a lumpy envelope in the mail. It was encased in a plastic Canada Post bag with a boilerplate apology for the condition of the envelope therein, saying it was being delivered in the state in which I found. I opened it up and there was my wallet, with my BC ID card taped on the side of it. Apparently the thief took the Visa card and tossed the rest on the ground and some sympathetic person dropped it into a mailbox. Yay! Thank you, mystery person who did this.

I went to the credit union, got my ATM card re-activated and today received my new Visa card, one day earlier than their estimate. I checked to make sure everything looked kosher and discovered I have enough Visa points to buy an iron. Woo! I already have an iron. I can also buy a Cineplex gift certificate that includes a pair of movie tickets, two regular drinks and a regular popcorn. i think that combo normally costs $300. It’s like buying six irons.

But for now I rest content that I no longer have to meticulously replace all of my ID. My wallet is now kept in a front pocket and any non-vital ID is kept safely tucked away here at home. I also will amend my previous judgment that “people suck” to “some people don’t suck.”

No, I do not shop at The Source and bag my groceries, lazybutt

Two random gripes:

#1: I get a call from my credit union. The woman speaks with an accent so it’s somewhat hard to follow at times but she asks me about these weird charges on the card to fashion stores and The Source. I am confused, as I’ve never made these. She verifies a few legit ones but it becomes apparent the card has, in her words “been compromised”. She nukes it, tells me I’ll get a new one in 7-10 business days and in the meantime no credit! Woo. People suck.

#2: I buy cat food at a local pet food store called Tisol. Being the environmentally-friendly guy I am, I bring my own bag. Last week I put the four large cans on the counter. There are two women behind the counter, one at the register and another beside her. Register woman rings up the order while the other asks me if I need a bag. I say no, I have my own here. I pay for the cat food (using my still-working debit card) and the other woman just stands there. She doesn’t bag the cat food, she just stands there and watches me until I do it. So the lesson is obviously screw the environment and make them cough up one of their own plastic bags, because they always bag it that way. Great service, there.

Did I mention people suck?