Office Dynamics

The dynamics of working in an office present a very unique experience, especially as an intern. There is a fine line to walk between: friendship and respect with your co-workers, lunch-breaks and work-breaks, and working hard and looking like a clown. Everyday normal activities are transformed into tasks which if taken out of context, will have serious effects on any of these relationships.

One such task I encountered today was the installation of a pin-board in our office. Pin-boards are one of those things which seem like a great idea at the time, but usually end up being disappointing and useless (like philosophy degrees and buying girls drinks). Nonetheless, I was presented with a task and as the eager intern I am, got straight to work.

The first problem with installing this pin-board, was somehow attaching it to the concrete walls which line our office. This implicated disrupting the entire office by the sound of the drill used to install the hooks. The next step involved nailing in brackets onto the board itself. This presented a problem, as there was not a single hammer available anywhere. I instead resorted to using an empty Coke bottle to pound in the nails, in the process of which bending them beyond use. I ventured outside to find a large rock to straighten out the nail.

As I lifted the rock, I looked up, and saw my supervisor Mr. DeSuza watching what I was doing. The look on his face perfectly conveyed his confusion as to why of 50,000 students, had York sent him this joke. Not that I could blame him, if I ever hired an employee and found out he spent two hours trying to install a pin-board with nothing but an empty Coke bottle, a large rock, and a single broken nail, I would fire him on the spot. If only Mr. DeSuza knew of the context in which these tools had come together, he would surely understand. However, in my nervous fit, I could not form the sentences to explain the situation. What came out instead was an incomprehensible string of mumbled together sentences, followed by a few giggles, and finally ended in me running away. I avoided him the rest of the day in the hope that he might forget what had just transpired.

I’m not sure what lesson I should have learned from this experience, but it was probably pretty important.

My Coffee Date with Hugo Chavez

My past blogs have been a showcase of my effort (probably failed) to be funny. This one however, is going to keep it real (like the title!) and chronicle a once in a lifetime experience I just had.

Here in St. Kitts, there is a summit of Caribbean and Latin American countries regarding the price of oil in the country. The President of Venezuela, Hugo Chavez, was the highest profile guest at these meetings. I had tried to work a situation where I would be able to attend the summit, but there were problems with the registration and I was unable to go. However, the experience that occurred tonight trumps anything that could have come from sitting through the summit.

My boss, Mr. DeSuza, was taking myself and the other intern, Lishai, around the island to visit local hangout spots. Before we hit the strip, he decided to show us the luxurious Marriott hotel just for kicks. As we parked and walked towards its entrance, we saw a large motorcade complete with black sedans and police escorts moving towards the front entrance. Mr. DeSuza thought this may be our chance to catch a glimpse of Hugo, and we quickened our pace towards the front door. We get there just in time to see the President wave to the cameras, and walk inside. We follow.

Inside, he begins to tend to his presidential duties, talking to cameras and taking pictures with guests of the hotel. He is enclosed by his body guards, conveniently dressed in the military uniforms complete with “I-will-beat-you-down-if-you-come-one-step-closer” looks plastered on their faces.

As he began to walk away, I decided to risk getting the shit kicked out of me, and approached him for a handshake. The rest is a little foggy as it was a mix of trying to decipher what he was saying through his translator and getting distracted thinking about, thinking about what was happening. But the following is the best recollection of what happened.

I shook his hand, and pulled Mr. DeSuza and Lishai into the mix. Chavez began asking us about ourselves. He was interested in what school we attended, and our reasons for being in St. Kitts. The fact the Basic Needs Trust Fund focused so much on developing capacity and promoting solutions to poverty through bottom-up (power of the people) approaches, immediately caught the socialists intrigue. He then began to talk to us about the importance of socialism for this very reason, citing Plato and Victor Hugo (Les Miserables). His aides then brought a couple cups of Venezuelan coffee, at which point Chavez handed us the coffee. We had just been served coffee by Hugo Chavez.

He spoke of his admiration of Barack Obama and his mandate of change. He spoke of the close bond that he feels towards Obama even though he is the president of a long held rival to Venezuela. He also mentioned that he shook Obama’s hand (and I shook Chavez’s hand), which by extension means I pretty much shook Barack’s hand...nice. Chavez then reinforced that the only means to seeing this change is through education and the exchange of ideas across cultural and political boundaries. Our conversation ended with me inviting him to stay at my house when he is in Toronto next. He giggled (and blushed I think), and thanked me for the offer on the condition that we go to a Blue Jays game. I have a date with the President of Venezuela.

As Chavez left, the three of us still didn’t quite believe what had just happened. This sentiment was obviously felt by others around us. Most politicians and influential business leaders probably would sacrifice their careers to get an opportunity to have a 30 minute conversation with the President. A local radio station then approached us to interview us on what happened. I am now off to search the internet for any pictures that may have been snapped because I am sure there a few who won't believe my story.

Peace!

M********** trying to give me Swine Flu

One of the interesting challenges of living abroad is being so far away from friends, family, ugos, and boibes.

Today, I was in the bathroom and I could not stop thinking of one of my best boys, Alex Johnston. He has a particular fascination with the Swine Flu. While most people see it is a possible epidemic (now pandemic) capable of killing thousands, to him it is simply entertainment and an opportunity to live out a real life zombie movie. To my surprise, the television had somehow turned to my local City TV news channel (evidently available on St. Kitts satellite) where they were reporting the Flu's graduation to threat level 6. As I sat there, I became increasingly excited at the thought of how happy it would make him.

However, this caused me to reflect on my situation. Every night I have the ability to watch local and American television. I can go on MSN and hear stories of friends which make me happy (acting so immature** they forced their female colleague to leave work early). Or, I can go on Facebook and look at my friend`s recent pictures (for the purpose of finding ones which discredit his falsely perceived attractiveness). It really struck me as to how interconnected our world has become. These are all things I would be doing if I were in Toronto. How would I be coping if I had come here a mere 10 years ago?

**This is how they were described by their co-worker. They were probably just acting too good, and were simply misunderstood.

I'm Not a Girl

For the third time within the period of my involvement with this internship, a person who I have emailed has thought that I was, in fact, a girl. This has brought back painful memories of my time as child when I was afraid of the hairdresser, and would opt to live life as a dirty little ginger who had hair to his shoulders and refused to take showers (a time period which earned me the nickname Dirtay). It was then that the first questions regarding my gender arose. Even as I crossed my arms and looked cockily into the eyes of the older kids (see picture above), telling them, “I’m a boy, boibe” that I could still not shake their perception.

And now, this curse has returned. The first instance was with my fellow intern Lishai, who upon seeing my profile on Facebook decided to express her surprise at my gender in an inbox message, “I can’t believe you’re a dude! No way!”. The second and third came from emailing last year’s intern and her friend here in St. Kitts regarding some turtle spotting. It is at this point when Jay (the friend here in St. Kitts) proclaimed his excitement for “meeting you girls from Canada”, that I’ve finally lost it. Maybe it’s the way I try to write emails professionally and politely? Maybe it’s because people believe that Eli is a girl’s name? Maybe it’s my strawberry-blonde hair? I have no idea.

But just as an experiment, let’s look at the famous people in history named Eli: Eli Whitney (invented cotton gin), Eli Manning (uses his fantastic name to win NFL championships), and that kid who loves porn from the movie The Girl Next Door. None of these American heroes are cootie infested girls, but instead are all (apparently surprisingly) guys.

Therefore, I would just like to provide clarification to any of my confused readers that despite my appreciation of the Pussycat Dolls and Taylor Swift, I am a dude.

First Day at Work

So the vacation is apparently over, and I have started my first day of work at the Basic Needs Trust Fund (BNTF). Before I get into that, I'll let my faithful readers know of the political rally we were taken to over the weekend. It was located in a field just around the corner from our apartment, and it started around 9 pm at night. Our boss picked us up around 8 and took us for a little pre-drink before we got down to serious political business. This was a nice change of pace in politics, as Canadian rallies usually involve mid-afternoon gatherings with pre-biscuit and tea festivities.

We then got into the car, and arrived at the rally for the opposition party, PAM. Immediately I wish that I was a politician in St. Kitts. First of all, before each candidate came to speak, the DJ spun their intro music (think WWE intro music, and the music played before Blue Jays players take the plate). I could not help but to imagine me taking the stage with the Miley Cyrus - See You Again (Dutty Wine Remix feat. Akon) playing. This was then followed by most the passionate speeches that I have ever experienced - the candidates were giving shout-outs to their ridings and involving the crowd like I have never seen. The event was even sponsored by Carib Beer, with beer tents located throughout the crowd. It is at a time like this that Canadian politicians bewilderment on how to involve youth in politics is particularly frustrating.

As you can probably gather from my post at 9:51am on a Monday morning, I haven`t gotten down to serious business at the BNTF as yet, but our supervisor will be returning following her radio show around 11, and the real work will assuredly begin!

NOTE TO READERS: If anyone is actually reading this blog, I would appreciate if you signed up to “Follow” the blog, it will help me look popular and impress chicks (I hear that girls love guys who have popular blogs). I also hope you all appreciate that I am making dumb jokes for the benefit of those back home, because they are probably embarrassing my family (sorry Mom and Norma).

Oh yo internet

So my internet has peaced out on me and my landlord isn't around until tomorrow, woooo! I guess I'll take the day to work on my sunburn and get my freckle on.

First Night

As soon as I arrive, my boss Mr. DeSuza, tours me around town and introduces me to any people I might be working with. Mr. DeSuza is the Kobe of Basseterre - everyone knows him.

I get some time to have a nap, and then its time to go out for the night. Mr. DeSuza takes me to meet and hang out with some of his friends. We head to the main square where we post up with his buddies for a couple hours, during which they (who include lawyers, chemists, and MBAs) talk about anything and everything, including taking some time to educate me on women. Apparently I know less about girls than I thought.