If there is one part of Ottawa that I can't stand, it's the environs of Kanata. The most boring spot in all of provincial Ontario. Yet for some reason, the security company I work for keeps sending me there. I go where the money is, but I don't have to like it. The other day, I caught hell trying to make it there, man. I live in the east end of Ottawa, and had to walk to Hurdman Station from my apartment near Saint Laurent Mall in order to catch the ninety six bus heading to Kanata. The ride was long and boring, with a lot of people staring at my Black ass for wearing a Santa hat AND a security uniform. Ottawa is full of bigots and if you're not white, they develop a staring problem. I was used to the stare, but this time it was different.
I noticed that it was mostly Arabs and Somalis doing the staring. I guess they're upset that not every Black immigrant in the City of Ottawa is Muslim, in spite of their best efforts. Most of us Afro-Caribbean folks are of Christian stock and damn proud to be. Don't like it? Oh, well. My Haitian ass is staying Christian, thank you very much. The Arabs control the religion of Islam and while I respect their faith, I can't overlook the fact that they treat us Blacks like shit. Why in hell would I want to bow down to them? My name is Carl James and I approve this message. Anyhow, I went to Kanata that night, winding up ten minutes late because the ninety three bus is the only one that goes to the industrial park where I was sent, and it only comes every half hour. If you miss it even by a hair, you're shit out of luck.
We're in early December, and it's snowing a lot in the City of Ottawa. It's exam time at Carleton University, where I major in civil engineering. If I want to stay in school next semester, I'm going to have to fork over twelve hundred bucks. I owe the school and they intend to collect by January. That's why I'm breaking my back working security. That and I've got to pay my rent. My former roommate ( and erstwhile boyfriend ) Ralph Davilmar left abruptly, and we used to split the eight-hundred-bucks-a-month rent. Now I have to pay it solo because finding a roommate in the middle of the winter is gonna be tough. Ralph and I met at school, and we just clicked. It's rare to meet an openly gay or bisexual man who is Haitian. I liked Ralph, and he liked me. The sex was off the chain, and neither of us liked dorm life so we got an apartment off-campus and moved in together. That was a big mistake. Ralph was insecure, with anger issues. If he hadn't left, I would have kicked his ass out.
I walked up a small hill from the roadside and went to the silvery building, which had a high-tech look to it, and was greeted by an old Black dude working at the security booth. He let me in, introduced himself as Paul, then he asked me for my Ontario Security Guard licence, and signed me in. Dude then pointed me to the security office, where I got my marching orders from a matronly white lady who introduced herself as Marsha Kelvin. Apparently, for tonight's assignment, I had to watch some contractors. Sounds good to me because watching contractors while they did their business is a big part of security work. I'm a floater, meaning that I go from site to site, I don't have a permanent workplace.
As soon as midnight struck, Paul the old security dude and our dear supervisor Marsha Kelvin left the site, put it on lockdown. The contractors left, and I was told that I was expected to stay until seven in the morning. I waited for everybody to leave, then made myself comfortable. I ordered from Pizza Pizza, the only company in Ottawa that will deliver anywhere in town regardless of time. Forty five minutes later, the pizza delivery guy showed up at the door. Well, guy might not the right word. The delivery person in question was definitely not a man. A tall, skinny dark-skinned Black chick with hair dyed bright red and green contacts stared at me awkwardly while banging on the building window. I let her into the building lobby, and took the pizza box she handed me. That will be twenty dollars, she said with an accent I couldn't place. I handed her twenty three dollars, giving her a decent tip because I once did deliveries for Boston Pizza and they treated me like shit.
The pizza delivery chick brightened up, and I wished her good luck and Godspeed. She nodded, thanked me and left. With all the snow failing, the roads are bound to be horrible. I'm surprised she delivered the pizza so quickly. I walked back to the security desk, and opened the box. The rich smell of pineapple pizza filled the air, and I felt my stomach grumble. I took a slice and bit into it, then took a few sips of my Pepsi. Ah, now that's what's up. Who says security guard duty has to suck? Sure, I'm only getting paid eleven dollars and fifty cents an hour and I'll have to work eighty six hours in order to pay Carleton University for the winter semester, but my job does have its perks. I smiled to myself as I wolfed down another pizza, and relaxed. I leaned back on my chair, and closed my eyes. A moment later they snapped open, thanks to some banging noise I heard on the window. I looked, and shook my head. It was the pizza delivery chick again. What in hell did she want?
I went to the door, and she excitedly pointed to her car, which she somehow smashed against a metallic pole in the parking lot. Geez, I thought. How original. She told me she called CAA and since her car was fucked up, she wanted to know if she could stay inside the building until CAA showed up. I thought about it. Security really isn't supposed to let non-employees into the building but since this broad was in distress, I suppose I could make an exception. I told her she could wait inside, and she smiled warmly. I'm Rosa, she said unprompted, extending her small hand. The name is Carl, I said. I shook her hand, and went back to my desk.
Rosa stood at the window, looking outside. I watched her pace back and forth while eating my pizza. Finally, I got tired of it and offered her a slice of pizza, and a seat, not because I felt like being charitable but because I wanted her to stop her damn pacing. Rosa thanked me for the pizza, and sat down at last. She looked at me and asked me how long I'd been working security. I told her I'd been at it since April 2010. Rosa smiled, and said that delivering pizzas was how she was paying her way at La Cite Collegiale, this French college near Orleans, Ontario. She checked her cell phone, and called CAA again. Nada, she said. I reminded her that it was really cold and snowy outside, so the CAA guys were probably super busy. Rosa nodded, and continued with her ( unwanted ) banter.
