...I complain incessantly about the same shit. But I'm stuck in this fucking infinite loop, so you should be too.
I'm sitting at the city commission meeting last night, for no good reason. Really it's just in case some mental patient in the audience accuses you, as a department head, of doing something to them. Then one of the commissioners will call you out personally, and then the city manager will ask you to defend you self against some indefensible allegation, all played out on cable access for the masses.
So when the crazy lady jumps up and says "I was wrongly punished by the police for blaise splee, and neighborhood association is spying on me, plus it's run by crackheads. In addition, the president of the neighborhood association, Joanna Tisdale, is just mad because her daughter, Leanna got molested and now she's all messed up. Also, the chief of police is having sex with the judge that convicted me of wrongdoing, they colluded to have me punished. I'm a woman of God and I know that I'll be vindicated."
The thing is the chief in question was "asked to retire" a few months ago under suspicious circumstances. What do you say to that if you're the interim chief? I've been in this position before, accused of some outrageous shit by proxy at an extremely public meeting. But I've never been called to answer for it on the spot. That is the modus operandi for the city commission. They want an answer right then and there.
Luckily they let the rant go without asking for an answer, so the interim chief was spared. But what about the old chief, who lives in the community, who has to hear shit like this bandied about without an opportunity to have his say? Or the neighborhood association president? Or her daughter? If I was any of them, I'd seek her out and choke that bitch to sleep. Who the fuck wants to hear the truth when the lie is so sordid.
I fucking hate these meetings.
KZ
Showing posts with label city commission. Show all posts
Showing posts with label city commission. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
The Misery
I stood outside of city commission chambers. I arrived at 6:55 for a 7:00 pm meeting, but the place was packed to the gills. The community came out in droves to beef about the EPA trying to put toxic waste in an unstable landfill in the city. The city uses well water, meaning the toxins could seep into the groundwater supply and kill us all. Boo fuckin' hoo! Cry me a river! All I know is I can't find a seat.
So as they wait to yell at the Mayor, et al, I'm standing in the hallway and I can't hear. I'm actually texting TAD and shit. Some jackass is at the podium talking and then I hear, "Is Mr. Zednanreh here?" Oh shit! I fight through the crowd. It's deep. I finally get to the podium and address the commission. I don't know the question I'm supposed to answer. Somebody is asking me questions about a parking lot for a proposed new building and the proper number of spaces. I answer, halfassedly. I don't know the answer, but fuck it, I'm the expert. They definitely don't know it, so I win.
I take my ass outside and I wait for each one of these people to yell at the commission. You see, I've got to stay until the end of the meeting, regardless of whether or not I'm needed. Because the commission may have additional questions about something one of the citizens might bring up. One at a time, the citizens yell at the commissioners about some shit the Federal Government is doing and that the commissioners can't stop. The life of a local politician. Poor delusional bastards.
As more and more people speak it starts to thin out some. And then finally I get inside the chambers. Later, I get to sit down. TAD texts me the update on the game. Fuckin' Gators. And I sit and stew. The EPA discussion is now complete and were back to the regular agenda. A project comes up that the city engineers are responsible for. Once again, the engineers' lack of people skills (sorry OneFromPhilly!!!) bites me in the ass and I'm back to the podium.
Fifteen minutes of back and forth from seven self-important muthafuckas about a project I had nothing to do with. They gotta teach me a lesson for not getting the community more involved. The engineers and sitting down, relaxed. Bastards.
Late meetings with overzealous politicians and citizens. The bullshit, the politics, the grandstanding. I can complain all I want, but I signed up for this misery.
So as they wait to yell at the Mayor, et al, I'm standing in the hallway and I can't hear. I'm actually texting TAD and shit. Some jackass is at the podium talking and then I hear, "Is Mr. Zednanreh here?" Oh shit! I fight through the crowd. It's deep. I finally get to the podium and address the commission. I don't know the question I'm supposed to answer. Somebody is asking me questions about a parking lot for a proposed new building and the proper number of spaces. I answer, halfassedly. I don't know the answer, but fuck it, I'm the expert. They definitely don't know it, so I win.
I take my ass outside and I wait for each one of these people to yell at the commission. You see, I've got to stay until the end of the meeting, regardless of whether or not I'm needed. Because the commission may have additional questions about something one of the citizens might bring up. One at a time, the citizens yell at the commissioners about some shit the Federal Government is doing and that the commissioners can't stop. The life of a local politician. Poor delusional bastards.
As more and more people speak it starts to thin out some. And then finally I get inside the chambers. Later, I get to sit down. TAD texts me the update on the game. Fuckin' Gators. And I sit and stew. The EPA discussion is now complete and were back to the regular agenda. A project comes up that the city engineers are responsible for. Once again, the engineers' lack of people skills (sorry OneFromPhilly!!!) bites me in the ass and I'm back to the podium.
Fifteen minutes of back and forth from seven self-important muthafuckas about a project I had nothing to do with. They gotta teach me a lesson for not getting the community more involved. The engineers and sitting down, relaxed. Bastards.
Late meetings with overzealous politicians and citizens. The bullshit, the politics, the grandstanding. I can complain all I want, but I signed up for this misery.
Peace,
KZ
Friday, March 16, 2007
When The Shit Goes Down
"When the shit goes down, you betta be ready" -Cypress Hill, 1993
So, this morning was like any other Friday morning. I'm at work early for the 7:30 am meeting to discuss what we'll discuss at the 7:00 pm Monday evening meeting. I hate this standing pre-meeting, but the powers that be deem it necessary, so I'm there. My boss has another meeting at 8:00, so he skipped this one and went directly to that one.
Anyway, the City Manager and the Mayor call on one of my direct reports, Gasbag*, to give a project update. I sit in my seat ready to fill in any gaps in information. This particular report is on establishing a new h.istoric di.strict. This means everybody who lives within the boundaries will have to abide by the design criteria set by the his.toric dist.rict co.mmittee before they repair their houses. The Mayor lives in the area of the proposed district and opposes it. She tells Gasbag, "I think this designation should be reserved for neighborhoods on the decline. A neighborhood like mine doesn't need an extra level of protection".
Gasbag breaks protocol. "May I ask a question?", something that's never done at these meetings by staff. The mayor allows it and my staff person says "So you're comfortable allowing this designation to occur in poorer neighborhoods, keeping the burden of maintaining historic homes to the people who can least afford it?"
The room got eerily quiet. I put my head down. This is one of my direct reports asking the Mayor if she was advocating injustice. The City Manager glared at me, the Deputy City Manager, Hannibalette, leaned over and said "Your staff person just crossed the line". She was pissed so I knew I hadn't heard the last of it. When Gasbag was dismissed from the table, I knew my day wouldn't go well.
After the meeting I talked to Gasbag and told her she made the Mayor look bad in front of citizens and the press. Gave her advice on technique to educate the Commission while not making them look foolish. Once I left and got back to my office, the heat was on.
Hannibalette called me. She was pissed. "You are responsible for your staff. Your staff made the Mayor look like she was in favor of injustice and inequality. We are advisory to the City Commiss.ion. How dare she ask a question of the Mayor in that forum, in that manner? In no uncertain terms, I want her to know that either she's advisory to the City C.ommission or she's an advocate. We don't pay advocates. She's a budget line item. Nothing more, nothing less. Are we clear?"
When my boss came in, I gave him the background story. He's thinking about the next steps. In my heart, I know the die has been cast. I can guarantee you this: when the next budget comes around, there won't be a historic preservation line item.
Be Easy,
KZ
*This is a double edged nickname. Gasbag is always "breaking wind" in meetings. Every time we're in a meeting, she's letting out these silent but deadlys. She thinks just because they don't make a noise folks won't notice. She's wrong! She also talks all the time, a mile a minute. Thusly, she's a gasbag.
Anyway, the City Manager and the Mayor call on one of my direct reports, Gasbag*, to give a project update. I sit in my seat ready to fill in any gaps in information. This particular report is on establishing a new h.istoric di.strict. This means everybody who lives within the boundaries will have to abide by the design criteria set by the his.toric dist.rict co.mmittee before they repair their houses. The Mayor lives in the area of the proposed district and opposes it. She tells Gasbag, "I think this designation should be reserved for neighborhoods on the decline. A neighborhood like mine doesn't need an extra level of protection".
Gasbag breaks protocol. "May I ask a question?", something that's never done at these meetings by staff. The mayor allows it and my staff person says "So you're comfortable allowing this designation to occur in poorer neighborhoods, keeping the burden of maintaining historic homes to the people who can least afford it?"
The room got eerily quiet. I put my head down. This is one of my direct reports asking the Mayor if she was advocating injustice. The City Manager glared at me, the Deputy City Manager, Hannibalette, leaned over and said "Your staff person just crossed the line". She was pissed so I knew I hadn't heard the last of it. When Gasbag was dismissed from the table, I knew my day wouldn't go well.
After the meeting I talked to Gasbag and told her she made the Mayor look bad in front of citizens and the press. Gave her advice on technique to educate the Commission while not making them look foolish. Once I left and got back to my office, the heat was on.
Hannibalette called me. She was pissed. "You are responsible for your staff. Your staff made the Mayor look like she was in favor of injustice and inequality. We are advisory to the City Commiss.ion. How dare she ask a question of the Mayor in that forum, in that manner? In no uncertain terms, I want her to know that either she's advisory to the City C.ommission or she's an advocate. We don't pay advocates. She's a budget line item. Nothing more, nothing less. Are we clear?"
When my boss came in, I gave him the background story. He's thinking about the next steps. In my heart, I know the die has been cast. I can guarantee you this: when the next budget comes around, there won't be a historic preservation line item.
Be Easy,
KZ
*This is a double edged nickname. Gasbag is always "breaking wind" in meetings. Every time we're in a meeting, she's letting out these silent but deadlys. She thinks just because they don't make a noise folks won't notice. She's wrong! She also talks all the time, a mile a minute. Thusly, she's a gasbag.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Pretty Petty
I'm sitting in my second evening meeting. The first went from 6 - 7 pm. This one, the city commission meeting, started at 7 pm. People are in rare form tonight. The 6 pm meeting was a finger pointing extravaganza, with students from Satan's Anus University accusing the po-lice of following "safe ride home" vans and then ticketing the exiting occupants for public intoxication. It's fucked up, but probably true. Joe Nab is pretty bored here, so they spend a lot of time fucking with people on minor shit. In rebuttal the Chief of Po-lice, African hater extraordinare, Chief Bitchmade, goes on a rant about the quality of his po-lice force. That was exciting shit. This second meeting was just like the first, only more so.
I'm sitting in this second meeting upset because I'm in my second meeting. These residents get up and start bitching during this public hearing about one of my proposals. Three different residents that I'd talked to privately, who privately agreed with the proposal, got up and savaged my shit. Now you'd think I'd be used to this, but I don't think I ever will. As I said in yesterday's post, I had a meeting with the commissioners on Friday to prepared for this meeting. But at the actual meeting, they acted shocked and dismayed at the allegations the citizens were making. I almost forgot this was an election year and the cameras were running.
My infamous "friend", the Vice-Mayor, called me up to the podium to explain how I could commit such an egregious injustice on the public. Fifteen minutes later, after being accused of everything under the sun, they passed my proposal. Politics.
The rest of the evening was filled with fanciful presentations on bullshit only a mother could love. I thought the night would never end. I'm sitting there next to my boss, texting out cries for help and wishing for a quick merciful death. I used to be in Detroit complaining about the shit residents would hold grudges about, but in retrospect, it was real shit. Small, but real. This shit, everything, from the petty staff stuff to the residents, to the politicians, is finally hitting that tipping point, to where I've had enough. I talked about staying until I learn what I need to learn, but I think I've learned it. I have the patience to wait for things that are worth waiting for, but I have no tolerance for unimportant shit. I believed all along that I was just an impatient, irritable person. I know better now. I don't have to stay here another minute to learn the difference between a small issue and an unimportant issue.
I'm sitting in this second meeting upset because I'm in my second meeting. These residents get up and start bitching during this public hearing about one of my proposals. Three different residents that I'd talked to privately, who privately agreed with the proposal, got up and savaged my shit. Now you'd think I'd be used to this, but I don't think I ever will. As I said in yesterday's post, I had a meeting with the commissioners on Friday to prepared for this meeting. But at the actual meeting, they acted shocked and dismayed at the allegations the citizens were making. I almost forgot this was an election year and the cameras were running.
My infamous "friend", the Vice-Mayor, called me up to the podium to explain how I could commit such an egregious injustice on the public. Fifteen minutes later, after being accused of everything under the sun, they passed my proposal. Politics.
The rest of the evening was filled with fanciful presentations on bullshit only a mother could love. I thought the night would never end. I'm sitting there next to my boss, texting out cries for help and wishing for a quick merciful death. I used to be in Detroit complaining about the shit residents would hold grudges about, but in retrospect, it was real shit. Small, but real. This shit, everything, from the petty staff stuff to the residents, to the politicians, is finally hitting that tipping point, to where I've had enough. I talked about staying until I learn what I need to learn, but I think I've learned it. I have the patience to wait for things that are worth waiting for, but I have no tolerance for unimportant shit. I believed all along that I was just an impatient, irritable person. I know better now. I don't have to stay here another minute to learn the difference between a small issue and an unimportant issue.
Be Safe,
KZ
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