Well, it sucks that it happened, but maybe this'll teach your son a lesson about leaving his bike around unlocked. After living in Toronto for several years, I learned not just to lock up my bike, but make sure both wheels are locked up somehow (usually with a chain or something through both of them).
In my own ranting news:
For the most part, I've been enjoying my new dishwashing job. It's not exactly a dream job, but now I have money for ordering more copies of my book and get consignment partnerships with the local bookstores.
However, if there's one thing that's really grinding my gears, it's one of my co-workers. The pub I work at has two dishwashers on duty during its busiest hours. Right now, it's only on Fridays. But I swear to Christ, I don't understand how he's managed to stay employed with them for so long. Though I'm starting to see why he's worked at so many different places around town all these years.
To put it bluntly, the guy is lazy as fuck. Here I am last night, working my ass off, working twice my comfortable speed, and he's just fucking standing there doing nothing. There are dishes to put away or even fresh ones out of the dishwasher to just stack with the rest and what's he doing? STANDING THERE, listening to the cooks joke and laughing or trying to throw in his own jokes. And a few times, I'll ask him to do something and always, always, always, he must answer with some fucking joke first. Like carrying a bus bin full of water back to its proper spot. He says, "Sorry, my back's bothering me." So I rush over and grab the bin myself, at which point, he'll laugh and say, "Dude, I'm just joking!"
And oh yeah, his "humour." He'll keep setting up jokes and then have nothing to follow through with it. Like, "You'd probably prefer working at funeral home," to why I asked why and he just shrugged and said, "I dunno." Or he actually used the joke, "Hey, what's the capital of Taiwan? BANG COCK!" and jokingly made the motion to hit me in the crotch. My response was, "Seriously? What are you, twelve? That's a fucking middle school joke." Not to mention that he loves using the words "gay" and "retarded," which every time, I simply start asking him, "How is that gay?" or something.
Honestly, the insipid humour I can deal with for 8 hours. But when I'm working my ass off and he's just fucking standing there doing nothing or taking incredibly long breaks, that's when I almost blew up on him last night. Hell, at the start of the shift, when it's not busy, I try to be proactive with things that might need to be done later. I'll fill up liquids of this, put away what I can, organize this or that, etc. When I suggested we fill up the cleaning liquid for the above mentioned bus bin, he just shrugged and said, "We can do it later." No fuckwad, I'm suggesting we do it now so we don't have to do it while it's busy.
Ugh. Aside from that asshole, who I'm really not looking forward to working with more than Fridays as the summer comes and the patio opens, it's not been a bad job. It's exhausting, to the point that I haven't had the chance to exercise much, but at least it beats sitting on my ass all day doing nothing.
