mer: (Default)
We all talk about our jobs--obliquely at times, clearly at others--but too often we have no clue what we all do every day. What do you do? In more than a three sentence summary, with as little unexplained jargon as possible.

What I do at my dayjob. )

Room 17

Apr. 24th, 2008 12:29 pm
mer: (Default)
Today at work Suzanne and I went downstairs to our new annex (room 17) to talk to the electrician about outlet placement and some schmancy kind of conduit.

The Door was open.

There are three doors in Room 17--the main, double door from the hallway, the unpassable back door that opens onto shelves in the MonoCat room, and the Sekrit Door, the Locked Door. The door that opens onto a cement staircase overhung with pipes and pipes and pipes, that leads to a brick room with a layer of rust dust a centimeter thick, or so it seems.

We went down the stairs.

Into the steam tunnels.

It was awesome.

The electrician came down. "You guys going to Angell Hall?" he asked.

"Not today," we said regretfully.

I told Ralph--and my boss--, "It's how we can escape the zombie hordes when they show up."

Ralph said, "Won't the zombie hordes be IN the steam tunnels?"

"No, the doors are kept locked," I said gravely. "Zombies can't pick locks. But we can."

They didn't look like they believed me, but trust me. Someday they'll be grateful that I think of these things.

April 2015

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