There was a time when I would work at Tommy's Tv in Pacific Beach,CA when the shop was busy and needed extra help. I tried driving down there from Palomar Mountain but the commute was terrible and took hours each way. I started taking my van down there and would camp in it for the two or three days that Roger needed help. This worked out quite well. I would drive to the shop around midnight when there was no traffic and after finishing drive back up to Palomar around midnight. To keep busy during the nights I would shop the nearby dollar store and then retire to the van and spend the evenings downloading from Roger's internet onto my laptop. I did have a portable camping potty in the van but no shower but for the short time I worked there it was not a problem. During the Summer months it never really got that hot in Pacific Beach during the day so the shop owner never turned on an air conditioner so he could save money on electricity. Insted he had two big box fans, one at the front of the shop and the other at the back door so as to circulate air through the building. It did get a bit humid at times and working under lights on tv sets was a bit uncomfortable at times but not unbearable. I coped with this by wearing shorts and a light shirt and since I was not dealing with the public it was no problem.One day I overheard the pickup and delivery guys two sons (they would help their dad with pickups and deliveries at times on the larger TVs) remarking about me "that is mister poopie shorts". I don't think they knew I could hear them. It was then that I realized that after a day or two of working in short pants (too hot for underwear) that one could see a poop stain on the rear of my light Beige colored short pants. So in my mind I thought of a song line "THEY USED TO CALL ME MISTER POOPIE SHORTS". If there is sufficient interest I will record myself singing this line and post it as a .WAV file. I was not terribly offended by this and in a twisted sort of a way found it funny, as they did. Life as a television technician is not always exciting and glamourous as it is depicted in the media. To live on the meager wages a tv repairman is paid it is necessary to forgo many of the comforts workers in other professions enjoy, like paid meals and lodging while on the road, but the work is there and someone must do it irregardless of the hardships that this profession often requires.
Some years ago, I attended a week long school on VCR repair, hosted by Magnavox.
I knew from past experience that the motels in that area were quite pricey for a TV repairman's budget, so I started looking for something cheaper before I got there. Mile after mile I saw nothing at all and I was getting close to where the school was so pulled in to the Greenleaf motel. The neighborhood didn't look all that bad during the day and the rooms were only $15.00 a night (with a one week stay) so I checked in. The first thing I noticed was that the TV in the room was too greenish so I reached behind with my small screwdriver which I carried in my pocket protector and adjusted the G2 (screens) control to balance out the greyscale. I had just gotten my permit to carry Mace (teargas) the week before and thought I would test it to see how it worked. I sprayed the tiniest drop onto the end of my index finger and rubbed it under my eye. Boy what a mistake that was!
I immediately started tearing up and my eye started burning so I splashed water from the sink onto them for what seemed like 20 minutes. Well at least I now had some idea what it would be like if sprayed into an assailants face. I the mace class they warned that mace might
not stop an attacker from coming at you if they were very drunk or high on dope and after my little test I find that hard to believe, although I do not doubt what the instructor had said.
So I settled down for the night and sought to get an early sleep so I would be fresh for class the next day. Somewhere nearby a dog started barking and barked through most of the night. With little sleep I did make it to class on time but did not feel fresh or rested at all. That was night one at the Greenleaf.
The next night I was kept awake by someone in the room next to me beating up on his prostitute. She kept crying and pleading "Bobo, I just can't do this anymore" and his reply was"but you been doin' it for us baby". That was worse than the barking dog. So much for night two.
In class that day I walked in pale and shakey and someone asked me "is everything O.K.?".
The class was interesting however and after the mornings theory lecture the instructor had us troubleshooting units that he had put "bugs" into.
The next night the same two were in the room next door making love all night. Listening to that was worse than the beatings the night before or the barking dog. The headboard on their bed was knocking against the wall on the other side where my bed was. The next day two of my friends were in town and dropped by to visit. One made the comment
"geez Robert, this place is a bit freaky even for you" and the other mentioned that if gone just one more mile across the river into Long Beach that the neighborhood was much better
and his room was only ten dollars more a night.
Night four after the school the driveway in front of the Greenleaf motel was blocked by street people hanging out in their cars. It was dark and after a long day at school with again little sleep the night before I didn't really feel like going up and politely asking them
if they could please move their cars so I could get to the parking lot so I opted to drive on the sidewalk to get to my room. And the owners car was parked in my assigned space.
Whatever...
After this hellish week I was looking forward to leaving and figured that after all this what were the chances that anything else could happen? Then there was the robbery at the liquor store next door. Before I checked out I re-adjusted the G2 control on the TV back to the greenish hue it had before. No way was this place getting a free TV repair after
what I had been through.
To sum up; If you ever need a motel in this area I cannot recommend the Greenleaf.
There is no "star" rating low enough for this place. I feel sorry for the owner who most
likely came to this country with the idea of buying a business and working hard to hopefully prosper and become part of the American Dream success story.
Back in the day, when G&C Television was still in the 707 S. Escondido Blvd. building, we had a secretary, Gina, who was kind of railroaded into the shop by the bosses wife as she was an unwed mother and needed a job. Gina would do whatever she understood as the minimum she had to do at the job, but really had no grasp of customer relations or the TV electronics repair business. Gina was in love and would listen to love songs on the radio while she "worked" for hours on end. We techs finally got tired of listening to this so we built a radio transmitter that would block out her station and put our music on instead. Gina did not like our music so would tune in another station. We the technicians however had the ability to take over any station in the FM band. Gina would again change stations only to find that music on that station was not to her liking either. Once she commented "there isn't anything good on FM anymore...". Eventually she turned the radio off altogether. The moral? Don't mess with a technician! Now, decades later I find that I am being peppered with rap music by my co-worker who uses his smart phone to connect wirelessly through Bluetooth technology to a mini speaker system in the store where I work. Does anyone happen to know the frequency that Bluetooth uses and how to take over that RF link? Jamming the frequency would not be that hard, but I would really like to take control of the music in the store (for the customers sake as well as mine!). At one time I had control of the store music and was playing oldies from the sixties and seventies, 1930's music, and "lounge" selections. Customers loved it and some even were singing along as they shopped. At the store we have all types of customers including all ages and also tribal elders. The store music should not offend anyone and (in my opinion) not contain words like "f**k", "s**t", "b**ch", or other negative ethnic inflections. In my co-workers defence, he did however humor me by playing a set of "Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band" with tunes like "mirror man", "she's too much for my mirror", and one of the bossses kids favorites who I used to babysit "I love you, you big dummy". I never thought that I would be hearing this at out store. Does this post seem long winded? Needless to say I do not do well on Twitter with the 140 character limit...
I thought it would be polite to ask those of you who live around me if they have any objections or opinions as to how I generate electricity. I am looking at three options: I can run a small scale nuclear pile to generate steam for electricity, run a gas powered generator, or set up some solar panels. The nuclear option has the advantages of small profile so all you will see is a concrete containment dome about the size of a garage, is quiet, and has no Carbon emissions, and will generate electricity 24 hours a day. The downside is that there will be spent radioactive (low level) nuclear fuel stored on my property for the next 24,000 years as the United States still has no centralized storage facility for spent fuel. Option 2, the gasoline generator, has the advantages of being a cheap startup technology with easily available fuel. The downsides of this option is that you, as a neighbor, will hear my generator run (which unfortunately may mean early in the morning or late at night), will create Carbon Monoxide and Carbon Dioxide emissions and contribute to global warming, and for me mean frequent maintenance. Option three, the solar panels, has the advantages of silent operation, no radioactive or Carbon emissions, and no maintenance for the 20+ years of their lifespan. The downsides of the solar panels is that you, as a neighbor, will have to look at my solar panels, which it seems some people have a real problem with. In addition the solar option means that I will need to buy batteries to power my home during the night hours when the sun is not shining. So here I am, your new neighbor, asking for your opinion. What do you want in a neighbor? A side note to all of you who use electricity but cannot for whatever reason generate what you need for yourself: the money you spend for electricity is the same as a vote. You as a consumer can dictate through the power of economics where and how your electricity is generated. I have noticed that there is a big push to convince the consumer that the best option is to build more big centralized nuclear facilities. I wonder who is behind this media blitz and who is to gain? Who do you want as YOUR neighbor?
I have tried to use languages to communicate with people in other cultures.
At one time I lived with a hispanic family who spoke English to me but I wanted to be able to communicate with them in their native language.
I bought a Spanish-English dictionary to help me. I tried to tell the wife, Tina, about my pyrotechnics hobby, and how I would shoot rockets.
In the dictionary the word for rocket was "cohete". So I tried a simple sentence like "me gusta disparar cohetes". Tina blushed and looked down.
I asked "what is wrong?" and she replied "ask Pedro". So when the husband came home I asked Pedro about this and he said "cohete means fuck.
Fuck you." So I found out that the word for rocket spells the same as the word for intercourse. But the key is to the pronounciation of the word
and the emphasis on each of the sylables. Who could have guessed? So I found out that if the word is pronounced "co-et-ee" is means rocket
but if the word is pronounced "co-HAY-tay" that means intercourse. From that point on I stuck with English.
On another occasion I was in Holland and picking up my film from the photomat. I thanked the lady with "Danka" which is thank you in German
but I should have said "dank-ye" which is thank you in Dutch. The lady did not look pleased with my thank you and my friend told me that today
is memorial day in Holland where the Dutch celebrate the Nazi's being driven out of Holland by the Americans and to thank her in German was
in insult on that day. Who would have guessed...
On another occation I was in the Disneyland parking lot and I came across a German couple and tried to ask them about the Black Forest in Germany
but got the word "swartzvalt" (which means black forest) confused with "hungersnot" (which means famine) so I guessed I asked them about the great
famine in Germany? They turned off real quick and moved on...
On another occation I was with two Dutch friends and they told me that they had a matter that they needed to discuss and apologized for having
to talk in Dutch which they knew I would not understand but it was easier for them so I said "no problem". After about 20 minutes they stopped and asked me
if I had any idea what they were talking about and I replied "yeah, you two were talking about masturbation". I was way off track on that one...
Not even close. so much for my ability to understand that language.... My friends did not converse in Dutch if front of me after that...
So with these subtle little nuances of prounciation and emphasis it is no wonder that all these other countries are so behind in the world
compared with the United States huh?