A Fond Farewell...Well Not Really

Just when I thought that I had found a character who would provide good stories and source material he turns out to be a huge disappointment. The Entrepreneur, the guy who seems to have a new business venture every time someone talks about him...like now he's supposedly starting a truck driving company, has already succumbed to the pressures and hidden traps of the Cube Dungeon. Siting schedule conflicts as his point of contention, The Entrepreneur has already given his two-weeks notice...which I think is funny because he hasn't even been here a full two weeks yet. Why the powers that be didn't just fire his ass on the spot, I don't know...maybe they're not as vindictive as me. Unless someone gives in to his bribery and lets him take their 3rd shift it seems his entertainment value will be small and short lived. His prospects of taking someones 3rd shift is slim, since there's only me at this location, and one other at the location across town. I sure as hell am not going to willingly put myself back into the hell that I've come to think of 2nd shift as.

I seemed to have neglected to read over my own promises of my last post, namely my new nickname. It seems The Trixter has not come with me the hospital. It's understandable since the crew that gave me that nickname didn't come with me either. I'm fine with it. To explain the new nickname takes another step into that dreaded, dank cave of personal information. Once again you're going to learn a little more about your narrator. Sadly it seems with every bit of info I drop about myself, I begin to wonder more and more about my sanity. My new nickname is Pimp Hat. It started out as Top Hat, so dubbed by Mr. Rogers, but the nurses started calling me Pimp Hat and it has stuck. The reason being pretty obvious...I wear what I would consider rather striking, dashing, and handsome hats. Everyone else seems to think they're pimp accessories. My hatogrophy consists of a couple of stingy brim fedora's, several ivy's, and a couple Kangol's. To me they're tasteful, respectable hats but to everyone else they're an eccentricity that they can't let slip without abuse.

When I'm not trying to dodge stray comments about my hats, I'm usually playing it pretty low key. I make my rounds through the floors looking for troubles, work on them quietly, and go about my business. As a result people either forget I'm there, or they feel relatively comfortable and start gossiping. Being that these nurses are predominantly women, there will be gossip. The funny stuff comes when they start griping about patients. There's no way to be prepared to hear a nurse say "I'm sick and tired of seeing that man's penis." It's just not something you expect to hear. She continues to complain about how he gets up and starts stripping every time she walks in. Now it seems this is a relatively common occurrence when it comes to old folks, but this guy is in his early 40's and just seems to want to share the love. I stayed away from his room.

Finally we'll end with a little bit of an update on the Cube Jungle of yore...that's right, communiques from former co-workers. It seems that the person that was hired, at my recommendation, couldn't cut it and left. Guess I'm not as good a judge of character as I thought. Now they've hired a guy named Natron. This is not a nickname. His god-given, birth certificate name is Natron. I actually new a Natron once, many years ago. He was a 14 year old video gamer and that was his screen name. Maybe I should see about having my name legally changed to Pimp Hat.

Back to hanging on the rack in the Cube Dungeon. By the way, it's a dungeon because it's a poorly lit basement office with an air conditioner permanently stuck at 65 degrees Fahrenheit. It's still 80 degrees outside, but inside I'm wearing a jacket.