email358.xml

email358.xml

born-digital

email

unknown

yes

2002-08-19

To recap...

Back in the '93 or so I was heading out the door with a
co-worker, on my way down to 92nd floor of 2 WTC when
the phone rang. I still remember standing in the
doorway, one foot out, and then stepping back in to take
the call. I was needed elsewhere and the other guy
continued down to the Trade Center alone. He was there
when they bombed the basement parking garage and wound
up walking a smoke filled stairwell from 92 down to 78
back up to 92 and then down again to the street.

On the 9/11 attack I was up here in midtown, just a few
days away from moving full time into the 50th floor of 1
WTC. Working for IBJ on the merger of IBJ, DKB, and FBK
into Mizuho Bank, most of my job involved getting people
from IBJ into the offices of DKB on floors 48 ~ 50 in
1WTC. The third bank, FBK, had their offices up in 2 WTC
(this was where my co-worker was during the first
bombing).

The first plane hit above our folks in 1 WTC. Everybody
got out. The one loss for IBJ was my buddy Jack. He
happened to have a meeting that day at the FBK offices
in 2 WTC. From what I've heard he headed out of the
building when the first tower was burning but, like many
others, heeded the announcement that the fire was
contained to 1 WTC and that everybody should return to
their offices. A few minutes later the second plane hit
tower 2. (You know that Homey don't play that, no way
sucker, if I'm in tower two and tower one is burning you
best believe I'm halfway home before they even think
about telling me all clear). FBK lost around 19 folks,
most were senior Japanese management, including the
president of the bank, at their desks early and
reluctant to leave. (Homey ain't playin that neither).

So on the 12th I head to work, get to my office and find
that we're closed for the day. Nice of em to wait until
after I make the absurdly delayed and jumbled 2 hour
commute to tell me about it, but wtf, a day off is a day
off so I head back home. Next paycheck arrives and I'm a
little light in the wallet, 7 hours worth. I call the
numbskulls out in Brisbane and they tell me it's because
I didn't work on the 12th. I politely remind them that
the office was closed and isn't it a little bit of a bad
time to be fucking with people about their hours. They
tell me they'll "check into it" and get back to me, I
tell them I'll gladly hop on a plane out there to "KICK-
THEM-IN-THEIR-FUCKING-ASSES into it" if it will help. My
missing pay showed up in the next check.

In another stellar employee-employer relations example,
the airports open again and they stick me on a flight to
Chicago. I make two trips in one week, the job - unscrew
a cable and hand it to some dude, hang out and standby
for about 8 hours til about 1 AM. I'm not too keen on
the flying part, nor having to work in the shadow of the
Sears Tower, especially not for some useless bullshit
work, but I do what I gotta do, yuh-know, and take
consolation in the fact that I'm sticking 41 hours of
overtime up their flat asses. I land at LaGuardia to the
news that some looney tried to force his way into the
cockpit of a CHI bound jet, screaming something about
smashing into the Sears Tower. Isn't that special?

With my desk/office/workplace at the WTC destroyed I
wonder where they'll have me work. Midtown is best for
me, my LIRR train comes and goes into Penn Station.
Staten Island or Jersey City (two possible sites) are
really bad commute-wise. I don't even want to think
about trying to do it, I figure that if I'm asked to
work from either of those locations I'd best just get a
new job.

Luckily they decide to keep me in midtown and work from
Rockafeller Center. So of course I'm heading into the
building when I notice a crowd gathering, looks like a
press conference. I'm not too keen on the idea of
gathering in a crowd, near some VIP's, in front of a
landmark building (just paint a target on yer friggin
head ferchrissakes) so I ease away and ask some foreign
looking teevee guy whazzup. He tells me there's anthrax
here, I say, ah great, let's all crowd up and get closer.
Turns out some of ol' Tom Brokenjaw's peeps got the
shit... right over there in fact [pointing]. Naturally
it would happen when I'm a week into a nasty chest cold
and busy hacking up chunks of lung. Anthrax,
schmanthrax, just like a bad case of the clap... not any
worse than the aftereffects of a night with the
working "ladies" round the docks in Naples, Italy... or
so I hear.

Since then several media outlets have been thrax'd, over
there, there, there, and there [pointing out the window
to various sites]. It's like the mortar shells are
dropping all around but they haven't got the exact range
yet.

Let's see, that's about the bones of it. Brb with some
flesh.

Ho

Wed Oct 24, 2001 11:15 am

Greetings From Anthrax Alley