>Today we had a fire drill in the office. Apparently, the building I work in doesn’t have an actual fire alarm in it. Whenever there is an emergency someone has to go around blowing a whistle signaling an evacuation. Had I not been warned ahead of time, I never would have known what that lame whistle meant.
It was a good time to people watch. As I stood out in the parking lot near the Shell Station in the frosty midmorning, I saw a guy with a mini Snidley Whiplash moustache. He must have been all of 23 years old. I can only imagine what company Snidley works for. He was pretty casually dressed. He would have been hot had it not been for that silly moustache.
It was easy to pick out the sales guys. They had a suit on (minus the jacket) and shades. The bankers were similarly dressed, except they had jackets and no shades. I didn’t realize there were so many people in my building. I’m going to have to walk around the place more often, just so I can see these characters.
>Male bankers are either nerds or players. I know; I used to be in banking. (I humbly decline to comment on exactly which I was…)
>you were both, chris! hey, how do I get the job as the guy who blows the evacuation whistle?!?? that’s one of my DREAM jobs!
>we have a ear drum shattering buzzer that all have to pass on the way to a single door (which in the case of an actual fire, most of the charred bodies will be found there because we couldn’t get out because of all the panic). Our powers that be seem to pick either the hottest day or the coldest of the year.
>I was whistle boy once. But I was the only one in the office. I used to drill myself.