Tag Archives: work stories

From whence they came…

At work, we have some maps up and try to encourage people to mark where they are from with pins. At the end of every week, we take the pins down and “reset” the maps. I took down the old maps the other day because certain areas (like Hartford, CT and the Netherlands) were completely obliterated, but it was really interesting to see the distribution of all the pins. Here are some pictures (and proof, if you’ve ever needed it, that people come from every continent to visit Boston):

Visitors from the South Pacific
Visitors from the South Pacific
Visitors from Europe and the Arabic Pennisula
Visitors from Europe, Asia Minor, Northern Africa
Visitors from Africa
Visitors from Africa

It will be interesting to see how the map morphs and changes over the next few weeks as most of our visitors will be from New England and Western Europe. Most of our cruise ships are carrying people from the New York/New England area or Britain to Canada and back again, so probably fewer South Africans or people from the South Pacific, but who knows!

Racing to the weekend…

I cannot stand life right now.

Visitors at work keep trying to talk to me about politics or other topics that we aren’t allowed to discuss, they just voted in the concealed weapons bill and its going to the President for approval, one of my co-workers is a close talker, and I’m just exhausted.

I have also had in the last few days multiple people use racist language around me. Today, a woman asked if the people driving the trolleys spoke clear English because they couldn’t understand people with funny accents. Hmm…guess she probably couldn’t understand Bostonian then. And the other day, a man asked me why we are paying attention to and highlighting the Civil Rights movement (which he seemed to indicate meant from the time period that the slaves were freed to the actual CR movement) and the Women’s rights movement instead of just paying attention to dead white men.

In reality, I wanted to go up to him and yell at him. Especially since he was with his son/nephew/friend who was not white and sitting next to his wife. I’m not sure why people feel that they can confide their deepest darkest hatreds. Maybe its the same reason that people come up to me in the subway or on the street when they are lost. I must just send out something that says “Talk to me!”.

I hate it.