The Calgary Labour Pool

There are two huge industries in Alberta: oil and construction. The two requirements for these fields are:
(1) showing up in the morning
(2) not wedded to the idea of keeping all of your fingers.
The gravitational pull of these two skilless areas has left customer service with a dearth of applicants; everywhere are signs reading,"Hiring Now All Positions", "Apply For Careers At Sears", "Signing Bonus Staff Discount".
Standards are dropping. Consider this ad on Craigslist:

Looking for part time work? Like to work evenings and weekends? Want some extra hours with a second job? Value Village is looking for enthusiastic, energetic individuals to join our team at our Chinook and Midnapore stores!!!!
What you offer:
Hand-eye coordination to sort, grasp, and staple.
Pushing and pulling.
Ability to distinguish colors and clothing sizes.
Be able to stand, bend and crouch for long periods of time.
Ability to perform basic math calculations.
Pushing and pulling Up to 100 lbs depending on department.
Ability to read and write.
Repetitive use of hands and grasping items.

They appear to be extending their eligibility to the higher apes.

Alberta fails to grasp a simple economic principle: the Law of Supply and Demand.
MANAGER: I can't find employees! Wanna work here?
MAN ON STREET: Well, how much does it pay?
MANAGER: Nine dollars before tax. Same as always.
MAN ON STREET: Screw you. I can get twice that swinging a crowbar.
MANAGER: Oooohhh, go on.
MAN ON STREET: No.
MANAGER: Pleeeeaaase. Look, I made a sign and everything.
MAN ON STREET: Nuh.
MANAGER: Well, I'm fresh out of ideas.

Speaking English

Almost everyone I speak with is a complete stranger. I ask people at bus stops for directions, store clerks for information, homeless people for change, employed people for jobs, and handsome people for advice. One thing that can be guaranteed in any interaction is that they will need a moment to acclimatise themselves to a foreign accent.

ME: Hay, hizzit gong.
THEY: What?
ME: Hi. Hiwayah.
THEY: Oh, hi.
ME: Whaer cud iffine tha toilet?
THEY: The washrooms?
ME: Ah... yih.
THEY: Right at the back, on the left. Where are you from originally?
ME: Nyih Zilliun.
THEY: Oh, that's... nice.
ME: Thingk.

This is even worse with French Canadians, a people who brook all the disadvantages of being French, but with no sign whatsoever of higher culture. Many bear a striking resemblance to Sebastian Chabal. There is no place in the cultural pantheon for French Canadians. They refuse to hearken back to Europe; they establish political parties to undermine national politics; their state steadfastly refuses to make money, and they are responsible every single time I can't understand one side of a grocery item:

English side: Bread
French side: Pain

English side: Trojan Ultra-Thin
French side: Trojan Ultra-Mince

One thing that they could not trip me up on was that great icon of North American culture: the Big Gulp.
I grew weary of a mere can; the Big Gulp in its standard size was not for men; even the Super Big Gulp fell short of my beverage-consumption requirements. No, only the Double Gulp, at 1.8 litres, was enough for me.
My next outing will be to the GreatBigStuff store. I need a straw for this baby.

10 Facts About Pimps

1. Pimps struggle with equitable gender relations.
2. Pimps will not let you drive the Pimpmobile.
3. Pimps are mammals.
4. When a pimp says,"It's my way or the highway," he is presenting two literal options.
5. Pimps always be recruitin'.
6. Pimps are awful drivers.
7. But try telling them that.
8. Pimps live outside the law: of fashion, of gravity, of mortal men.
9. Prostitution is a harsh mistress.
10. It's all about the Benjamins.

Road Trip

Here is a map of my current Thanksgiving weekend jaunt through Banff national park.
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Click on this picture to see the area snapped from Google Maps' satellite imagery. The general route is Calgary > Banff > northwards > east to Edmonton > south to Calgary.
To get a sense of scale, Calgary to Edmonton is about 300km; Taupo to Auckland.




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At a lookout south of Jasper; northeast-ish on the map. Elevation: 3,174 metres above sea level.










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Most of the time, the scenery looks like this.








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This raven was mad. And big. About the size of a duck.










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Banff street view.

Being daytime, all antipodeans currently in bed with cold compresses on their foreheads.

Keep Your Pimp Hand Strong

Banff is a tourist trap.
Every street is jam-packed with Olde Worlde stores selling junk with BANFF stamped/sewn/burned/urinated-by-moose on it. Australian accents scrape the air. Japanese pensioners trail along, guided by flags and whistles. American and Canadian grey-hairs amble the flagstones, occasionally drifting into a gentle spin.

I'm touring with a midget Indian pimp, a midget Indian (standard issue), a mild-mannered German (standard issue) and an unemployed investigative journalist with almost entirely red hair.

Our ride: pimped out.











The town is like Queenstown, but more established. The local megahotels, unable to hire locally, recruit Australians, New Zealanders, South Africans, zer Englishers, Scots and young Canadians from rural areas with honking accents. They are paid $8 hourly instead of the $15-20 locals are getting elsewhere in staff-starved Alberta. It's a pleasant symbiosis: the town gets cheap labour, and the indentured servants get to shout and throw up in the streets without being arrested.