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3 october 2000

OSHAAAAAAAAAGH!

I am currently doing some contract work that required me to take a OSHA safety class today. It was the greatest appetite suppressant of all time.

So I show up for class after lunch, where I am subjected to a series of speakers who enjoy their jobs just WAY too much. From the director of security and safety, to that final nurse who thrives on making strangers queasy, I had a most miserable afternoon. I trust no one. I feel germy. I am afraid of public places. I came home and disinfected things.

My first scare came when a burly man and his suit-unfriendly neck addressed us for an hour about security. His lesson (I think) was "Be Afraid. Trust No One. People Are Bad." He told us all sorts of interesting stories, like the one about the guy who walked throughout the institution stealing pocket change out of people's desks. When he was finally caught, he had about twenty-five pounds of it on him. Now, I was thinking to myself that this was probably just a dude with a screw loose. At worst, a rather stupid klepto.

But not Sausage-Neck. He hunted the quarter klepto, who ended up in lock-down for what I gathered was a pretty long time. He then proceeded to tell us the other important things that we would need to know during our tenure. In the parking garage, we are not to park on or over the line of any space. He doesn't care if the car next to you did it; you'll both get tickets. Third offense is a wheel lock, and your name goes on a list that security carries with them at all times. Thou shalt not allow tire to touch white paint, or thou mayest lose parking privileges.

I contemplate riding my bike to work. It is, after all, only two miles. Our great pudgy protector frightens me.

Alright, so if that wasn't bad enough, along comes Nurse Catch-It. As in, "you just ate. I'm going to talk about unclean people now." For yet another hour, she details policies and procedures that we must follow in the event that we happen upon Typhoid Mary and her enormous weeping sores in the computer lab. Since that probably won't happen, we're still not off the hook because we work at an institution filled with the dreaded door-knob. A doorknob, for the uninitiated, is the poor man's petri dish. A public elevator is tuberculosis' best friend. No orifice is safe. I don't anticipate that I will sleep well for awhile.

She had photographic slides, too.

When the class ended, I was a complete wreck. Nauseated, dizzy, afraid to shake hands, and overwhelmed with an urgent need to check on my car, but not before I'd swabbed the door handle and steering wheel with an alcohol pad. And Wilma...what would I do with Wilma? How do you disinfect a cat? I think I saw an OSHA-approved pet-fresh carpet treatment commercial. I bathe her bimonthly and brush her teeth twice a week. Is it enough? Can I have my doorknobs replaced by those Star-Trek remote sensor doors?

One of these days, I'm just going to snap and go on a mad hand-shaking spree. I'm going to park my car all crooked in the OSHA lot, fill my pockets with quarters, and get all microbial on them. Yes...hi, my name is Kim...it's a pleasure to meet you. Let me hold the door...