Wednesday, June 23, 2010

My Very Own Unabomber & More

This weekend was quite eventful, to put it mildly (I have got to get more going on to talk about about besides this stupid job & my depression).

Saturday: Things started off relatively calm. Some clients apparently told my weekend supervisor that I gave them a phone when it had gotten taken away from them (I didn't) so she confronted me but I plead my innocence (either way I didn't care). One of the new guys decided it would be a splendid idea to slide down the damn stair railing, causing me to almost have a heart attack.

Some of the younger clients who I've gotten along with very well (including Frankenstein, the head-injury from last week) were acting weird & not listening (that wasn't weird). One of them asked me "hypothetically" what would happen if someone were to leave the site for about an hour. And they were just acting like they were planning something. Well, while my partner & I were watching a TV show on my laptop around 2:30am, I happened to see at least 2 guys crouching below the bushes outside our office.

Damn it.

My partner & I went out the front, but they had already gone back up to the 2nd level where they belonged. We did checks & ultimately they confessed to me that they were "trying to scare" us, which is utter bullshit.

Also, Friday there was what sounded like an explosion, but we figured it was something off-site. Turns out it wasn't. A younger client who I have a good relationship with told me Saturday night that yet another younger client (who I didn't know well but never gave me problems & I actually liked quite a bit) had gotten some steaks from his mom & made a mini-bomb with that, water, & a bottle, & threw it into the pool area. I was told this because the 1st guy didn't like the Unabomber, as we affectionately referred to him. My partner & I went looking for it, & found the half-exploded bottle in the garbage. Damn.

Sunday: Most of the excitement happened on Friday & Saturday, but the clients would not go to bed! Stubborn douches.

Ultimately the Unabomber got kicked out, & while I know he totally did it to himself, I still feel bad for playing a part in it. When I left Monday morning I said goodbye to him (having conveniently gotten to know him better this weekend) knowing that it was probably what was going to happen (he had no idea we knew) & he said, "Hopefully I'll see you next weekend!" I was just like, "Hopefully..." The clincher was that the guy who ratted him out? Was standing right there talking to him, too. Two-faced bastards.

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