On Saturday, I got in a scuffle with my boss over a moral issue which he refused to even acknowledge. I alerted him of my wish to take this concern to a higher authority, and he threatened disciplinary action. After this, I went to see an old friend until 2:00 in the morning the night before Folsom Street Fair. I got on the wrong bus on the advice of the driver, who said that he went to Mission. He went to Mission, alright… the bus was the 91, and he went to Mission and Geneva, almost out of San Francisco county. After the bus let off at West Portal Station at about four in the morning, I collected my bearings, realized the 91 was my only way out of there, and told the driver I wanted to get back on. MUNI pass in hand, we went on to have a conversation about his job, passengers sleeping on the bus or leaving trash, San Francisco, learning a new language, and much else, all in a darkened bus in a quiet neighborhood at four in the morning. The only other humans I saw were trashmen, briefly. Only two minutes off schedule,the driver renewed his route. Damn right I got off on Mission and Geneva that time, only to find that I had just missed my bus connection back home and the next one was in 26 mintues. 27 minutes. 28 minutes. And that it was freezing cold. Seemingly many minutes later, a single taxi passed by and I bit the bullet, and hailed it. Too bad he could only take cash. Screwed, and freezing, once again. Then what do I see? The cab backs up, full reverse down Mission. He asks if I could buy him gas. Hell yeah, I can buy you gas. He took me home, and I talked about the kinda day it’d been, and even paid me back the difference. I got home about 5:30.
I was awakened Sunday to a voicemail from my boss saying I’d been suspended for the “incident” the day before. Well, I called right back and said, ok, I’m fine with that, did you make the appointment with said higher authority as requested? Of course he hadn’t. So I spent the next day, the 30th, alternately gawking at naked weirdoes and writing a five-page letter to by boss’ bosses. It was a good letter, and the only reason I’m not spilling the beans (and they are some juicy beans, mind you) is that I volunteered some confidentiality on my part. They said I was “a good writer” when I presented it to them on Monday. They looked a little worried but I can’t blame them. I don’t know if that they had any idea of the kind of things that’d been going on.
The rest of Monday was nice. Me and the little lady went to Sutro Baths, the Dutch Windmill and Doorhenge in Golden Gate Park, got my favorite Chinese stuffed meat pastry (Chao-Su-Bao) in the Inner Richmond, and generally enjoyed life. I’ve gotten a lot of housework done. Being suspended has sort of been a boon, especially when A) you know you were in the right and could have accepted no less from yourself, and B) there might be a substantive apology for you in the works.
I have a meeting tomorrow at work with the boss’ boss, at 12 noon. Wish me luck.