Who Do I Think I Am??

This one's about the Chair Ninja.

What's up y'all? I meant to get in here earlier, while I had reliable internet, but distractions do occur. Like eating, which is something you should do if you've been so sick for the last two weeks that you pretty much couldn't. So rather than Toshiba, this entry hits you again from Blackberry Central.

I've done some reading between Facebook and other news sources, and it conjured up a long-forgotten memory. So I bring you...Chair Ninja.

The backstory: back in 1997, I was hired as second-in-charge customer service rep at the Lifetime Service Center (LTS). It was the repair facility for the local consumer electronics empire, Stereo Advantage (which I eventually transferred to).

There basically was us, evaluators, and techs. And parts, and management. I went from being hired, to running customer service, to also being an evaluator (fixing little things like remotes and cordless phones), to also doing the building's accounting...all at once. Crazy for someone in his late 20's. But I loved it. Why? I loved the people.

While most of us had nicknames, most in the building were known by initials. Usually we just went by name, or the latest shenanigan. I remember going to Hooters for lunch with a few of the guys, having a few Coronas, and coming back...when we got to the parking lot, Kooch had to pee so bad, he ran to the dumpster. CRO saw us pull in from a second-story window, and started throwing unrepairable televisions at him. That was just a taste of the fun. Ohhh, the stories I could tell.

My superior at the time and I would clash, and I'll admit most were my fault, but we moved on within the company and had a lot of respect for each other. When she went on maternity leave, I inherited her role of running customer service. Easy enough, I thought; I only had some threaten to come at me once with a gun if we couldn't fix their vcr. And ya know what? Even after all of the other responsibilities I took on, it was still a great gig.

I say this because my crew was phenomenal. Smart, quick, and motley. We'd bang heads sometimes, and later that evening we'd bang glasses together at Keystone (Keystone deserves its own entry). As good as we were at helping each other out, the faster we were at fucking with them behind the counter's wall. I remember opening the elevator once and seeing someone packing-taped to a two-wheel dolly. Half of me was, "what the fuck?" (Or WTF, for you spoiled English dropouts) and the other half laughed his balls off and sent him back up the elevator, waving.

On one of our late nights, it was slow. No management in the building; just me, a few evals and techs, plus the car install guys (their leader JL had the keys). So my boys had the floor, and I went to my computer to do my thing paperwork/money-wise. That's when shit got real.

As I'm sitting there, I think three (maybe four) guys came down the stairs, armed with packing tape. Where was I stationed? Right outside the staircase. I knew it was on. I don't remember all the perps, but I knew one was my boy BJS. One might've been DK too. But I know this: I won.

As determined as they were, I was twice as much not to be taped to that chair. As they pulled the tape and grabbed the chair, it became an extension of me. Its arms were my arms; its legs were my legs. I flipped and rotated that bastard around with such fierce velocity that after a few moments, the perps backed down. I wasn't gonna be taken. I may have even knocked BJS with a wheel, which prompted him to declare me a "Chair Ninja"...their robust attack was met by not force, but resistance and a spur-of-the-moment counterattack that left them reeling, just like the kung-fu movies we'd watch.

And you know we drank beers afterwards and laughed about the whole damn thing. At Keystone...where as soon as the bartender saw my car pull up there were two shots of Crown and either a pint of somethin' or a packed 34oz mug of ice with half Crown/half Coke in it. That's what happened after a long, 12 hour day at LTS. A night at Keystone. The next day..."You goin' to Keystone tonight?"..."Naw man, I'm tired!" Around 4pm, "C'mon, go to Keystone!"..."We'll see when we get out." And when closing time at 6pm or 8pm came (depending on the day), it was, "Come on out just for one!" But there was no "one". There was no such thing as the "Keystone One"; not the way we had them in our pockets. As we drank them out of business before the millenium, I'm pretty sure I've learned how to navigate a bar stool as well as an office chair.

But that's another adventure for another time, dear readers. Sorry it's been so long. Blame my grammatical misses on Blackberry. Hope you all are well. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!