"Yeah, I just tell people I work for a company called TCM. No one needs to know what it stands for."
Half a breath later, the strange passenger talking on his cell phone loudly reveals the riddle behind the acronym: Toronto City Morgue.
I am sitting three rows in front of this peculiar man on the streetcar. I am traveling east on my way to the gym and am dying to get a glimpse of the man's face. Politely resisting the urge, I pretend to concentrate on the Metro crossword puzzle and continue being nosy.
I dedeuce that the man's interlocutor is also a TCM employee. “Well, did you go to the lounge yet?” streetcar morgue worker asks. “There’s a huge posting there. 4 positions. The city morgue can’t put ads in the paper so they put jobs up in the staff lounge. Ridiculous.”
What kind of qualifications do you need to work at the morgue, I wonder inaudibly. It seems the chatty passenger can read minds: “The ad says you need to be 19 years of age with strong arms and a strong stomach! Exactly the same things they were looking for 20 years ago when I started there.”
Twenty years working in a morgue. Sounds like this particular employee sort of feel into the position and has never looked back. The man's dialogue is peppered with zingers like, "Oh, she's worked for EMS? Then she'll be fine; they see them dead before we do" and "God, no. The TTC has it's own clean up crew. Saves me from having to jump down on the tracks myself." He knows he is performing for a crowd; he can sense that all of the passengers are eavesdropping, no matter how unobvious we're trying to seem.
It's almost my stop. I get up and wait by the doors at the back of the train and finally see the man's face. For some reason, I'm surprised to see a round, pockfaced man in a polo shirt. What were you expecting, Kate? Lurch?
"Everyone around me is breathing,” he says, gushing breezily into his cell phone. “So that’s a good thing. Yes, alright. Uh-uh. Bye-bye for now.”
Queen Streetcar, eastbound from Spadina to Yonge Street. Overheard on a Tuesday in March.
CBC About to Become a Meaningless Acronymn
11 years ago
What?? The TTC has it's own clean up crew? My cousin told me she had to clean up the "jumpers" but she's a paramedic. Now I don't know who to believe, my cousin or a TCM employee.
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