Story ideas, email me at mike.kirby1@gmail.com

Friday, November 12, 2010

Stealing at the Dump?


















DPW lacks a cash control system at the landfill





My friend Bobby and I made a couple trips to the dump last week in a borrowed van with the last of our wreckage from the move. Left over buckets, a smashed-up garbage can, cans upon cans of old latex solidified into odd works of pastel art with kitty-litter; unusable pieces of lumber, all the unmentionables that remain behind when the tag sale is over and the FREE signs don’t generate takers. At the shack we underwent the usual inspection, the attendant peering through the windows, asking nosy questions about the contents of all our mystery bags, telling us what went where.

“Ok” the attendant said, after some thought, “Twenty-two bucks.”

The attendant pulled quite a good-sized roll. Our change was counted out, and the attendant pasted a single sticker on one of our bags. Bobby, who doesn’t miss much, raised his eyebrows. Later on, when we were throwing stuff into the green dumpster, he commented what a great job the gate keepers at the dump had.

“Big money coming through here every day,” he said. “Whewee, what was that one sticker business all about?”

“It was a two dollar sticker.” I said,

“A two dollar sticker.” he said, and laughed. “What’s the system to this, anyway? “

Later on, when we came back with a second load, and the cash went into the attendants pocket and no sticker at all was pasted on our cargo, I wondered if there was a system in operation any more. In the old days, come in with a twenty dollar load and twenty stickers were torn up or marked up with a magic marker. There always has been scuttlebutt that there is stealing at the landfill, but I don’t think anyone has ever been led off in handcutffs.

Downtown at city hall you give someone two dollars, they have to make out a receipt for it. Out at our dump, commercial carters go on the scale, get weighed, and get a receipt. I’ve always felt that there is too much discretion given to gate-keepers at the dump, too much possibility of wheeling and dealing for friends. One figure for a buddy, another for someone you couldn’t stand. I talked to Debby at the Department of Public Works, and she said that the gate keeper has these “bulky cards” in $5.00 increments and she would tear four of them up for a $20.00 bulk load. I told her I never saw the attendant tear up anything, and she said, “Well, I’m sure that they were torn up after you left.” She said when things get really busy, they have to do that tearing up business later.

As I remember, it was a quiet afternoon.

No car behind me waiting. OK, chalk this up as an oversight
on the attendant's part.

Maybe the gate keeper did go back into the shack and tear up these tickets each time, and maybe they forgot about it. I plan to file a police report over the incident. The real problem is all that cash and all this discretion. My bet is that millions in cash come in this way every year. At the very least, there ought to be a book of numbered receipts for the attendants for larger loads, and the DPW should post a big sign on the shack out there just like they have at Dunkin Donuts.
CUSTOMERS SHOULD EXPECT TO GET EITHER A RECEIPT OR THE APPROPRIATE NUMBER OF STICKERS. IF THIS DOESN'T HAPPEN, CALL THE FOLLOWING NUMBER 555-5555

Or, better yet, we ought to do like Amherst does, send all large loads to the scale. Amherst, by doing this, has a computerized record that can be balanced against intake receipts.







Thursday, November 11, 2010

Love at First Bite






Maybe it was the price ($5.00) maybe it was all the home-made splices in the power cord.











Sears finest, circa 1950 or so. Someone spacey like me must have owned it and was a little vague about where the cord was when he was cutting. I found it at the Congregational Church flea market up in Williamsburg about ten years ago. And I loved it even when I found out that the $5.00 price was probably because they didn’t make blades for it any more. So I sharpened it by hand. A half an hour of work with a file, and it would be good for another year of occasional use.

Well, this was perhaps its last hurrah; The last item on the punch list generated by the new owner of 17 Summer Street: cover the sump in the cellar. Last project in my garage before it became broom clean and ready for new things.

So I cannibalized this piece of 5/8" plywood that was my workbench for many years, and cut it to fit over the hole, and cut a slot for the output pipe. It was rough going: Dad had not sharpened it lately. It was blue smoke, and overly sensitive circuit breakers blowing every five minutes.. I minimized the bite so it wouldn’t stall and made worthless promises to it to be a better owner. It hung in there until the job was done, and I saw Ed at Ed’s Electric yesterday and he promised to give it a new cord when his order came in. And I will sharpen it, eventually. Maybe.

American made machinery; now an anachronism. And the American working man and working woman stood by and let it happen. We aren’t ornery like the French truckers, who blockade borders. We bought into the siren call of free trade, let the owners ship all the machinery overseas, voted for the two tier contracts for ever-diminishing workforces. And now the big boys are computerizing and outsourcing all the white collar jobs to India.

So it seems that we are headed back into underdeveloped status. Our troops will eventually have to come home, and there won’t be much here for them to come home to. We’ll keep shipping our timber to China to come back as IKEA furniture, shipping our iron ore from Mesabi to come back as Honda Accords, and gradually we won’t be able to afford all these nice things on our welfare checks, and then the welfare checks will start bouncing. Then we'll get around on pedicabs.

But cheer up, things might eventually get better. In the now not-to-distant future, we might be eligible for foreign aid, and there’ll be calls for land reform and breaking up the big latifundos. It’ll be five acres and a mule for the landless peasants of America, and calls to import machinery from Indonesia to rebuild some of our basic industries. And through it all we’ll keep saluting the flag,watching Vannah sashay across the stage flipping over the letters on "Wheel of Fortune", and remain true believers in Darwinian Capitalism.