Time Wasted
This would have been posted last night, but my Internet connection cut out. So, no, I haven't missed an entry already.
Today I spent nearly three hours wasting my time at a meeting. I can barely remember the discussion that started the meeting—one concerning state aid and sidewalks and a small town's main street area. What I remember is an hour and a half of six people nattering over the specifics of a law that may or may not have prevented one of the town's boards from repairing a crumbling wall next to a grave yard. I've seen few things more pointless in my lifetime.
The show started after that. As soon as the next group entered, one of the selectmen recused himself and bailed. In the following moments, there were shouts, tears and accusations.
A salty character from the town's outer reaches closed a pet store he owned because the landlord kept jacking his rent. With that location down, he intended to resume activities at his first location: his home. Unfortunately, he announced this is a move. The selectmen interpreted this as a move that violated town zoning laws. As far as I can tell, it didn't. His business started in 1977, fully ten years before the town laid zoning regulations on its citizens. He was grandfathered in.
The select board chair remained cool amid requests that he recuse himself and the upset crowd in the room. Ultimately, they came to what seemed reasonable ground, but that chair made my skin crawl. My first impressions aren't always right, but I got the feeling that this was the type of guy that would beat his wife, wash his shirt and go back to work with a smile the next morning. He reminded me of Ed Deapneau from Stephen King's Insomnia.
The drama ended after 30 minutes. I spent three and a half hours, and all I got was one story and a creeping sensation that the head of this board was bad news. At least I got paid.
I capped the night by playing board games around the corner with a newly discovered group of friends. I'll call this the high point of the day, but I let it stretch to late. The time-stamp won't tell you this, but it's currently ten minutes of two in the morning, and I should get up no later than 9:00 tomorrow. Poor planning. At least that weekend's on it's way.
Today I spent nearly three hours wasting my time at a meeting. I can barely remember the discussion that started the meeting—one concerning state aid and sidewalks and a small town's main street area. What I remember is an hour and a half of six people nattering over the specifics of a law that may or may not have prevented one of the town's boards from repairing a crumbling wall next to a grave yard. I've seen few things more pointless in my lifetime.
The show started after that. As soon as the next group entered, one of the selectmen recused himself and bailed. In the following moments, there were shouts, tears and accusations.
A salty character from the town's outer reaches closed a pet store he owned because the landlord kept jacking his rent. With that location down, he intended to resume activities at his first location: his home. Unfortunately, he announced this is a move. The selectmen interpreted this as a move that violated town zoning laws. As far as I can tell, it didn't. His business started in 1977, fully ten years before the town laid zoning regulations on its citizens. He was grandfathered in.
The select board chair remained cool amid requests that he recuse himself and the upset crowd in the room. Ultimately, they came to what seemed reasonable ground, but that chair made my skin crawl. My first impressions aren't always right, but I got the feeling that this was the type of guy that would beat his wife, wash his shirt and go back to work with a smile the next morning. He reminded me of Ed Deapneau from Stephen King's Insomnia.
The drama ended after 30 minutes. I spent three and a half hours, and all I got was one story and a creeping sensation that the head of this board was bad news. At least I got paid.
I capped the night by playing board games around the corner with a newly discovered group of friends. I'll call this the high point of the day, but I let it stretch to late. The time-stamp won't tell you this, but it's currently ten minutes of two in the morning, and I should get up no later than 9:00 tomorrow. Poor planning. At least that weekend's on it's way.
posted by Matt Casey at 7:45 AM
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