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What happens when approval-cravers encounter a clueless stranger...
1999.03.24 TUE
So I'm going to tell you how I talked my way into the WIPP PR office. Of course, this place was meant to be open to the public--it was a PR office, they weren't trying to hide anything. Nevertheless, I'm going to tell you all about how I talked my way in there. If it starts getting boring, feel free to skip ahead.
It was in a multi-story office building. Obviously, this was more than a PR office. I figured that the PR office would be something off of the lobby. There were lots of people walking out of the lobby, walking into the parking lot. Maybe I could see the outside of the office, peek in through the window. After all, I'd visited the WIPP website a few months before. If it looked like the PR office was just a bunch of text-and-photo-on-foamcore displays, maybe I wouldn't bother to visit it tomorrow morning. I walked up to the door whence people were exiting.
Once I got up to the door, I saw that the people who were leaving were using security badges to unlock the front door, holding their badges up to some sensor panel. Some of them were forgetting, were bumping into the front door, which refused to let them out. Maybe I wasn't going to be able to see the outside of the PR Office after all.
A lady walked out the front door. I accosted her: "Excuse me."
"Yes?"
"The W-I-P-P P-R office--is it in this building?"
"Yes," she said, "Oh, dear. We're just now closing. We close at 4:30."
I looked at my watch, gave a rueful chuckle. It was a little after 4:30. I said, "4:30? Ha. Oh well."
She looked sad. "Gee, do you have an appointment or..."
I was beginning to wish that I'd called ahead. Not to make an appointment, maybe, but just to find out the office's hours. If I hadn't dawdled over photos and that drive-in, I'd have gotten in before closing time. If only I'd done some research ahead of time instead of just trying to fly by the seat of my pants...
"No appointment," I confessed, "I'm just a tourist. This place sounded interesting and..." I waggled my hand. "Anyhow..."
She said, "Let me go back inside. I'll talk to them. Maybe I can... Just wait here a minute."
"Gee, I..."
"I'll be right back."
"Well, thank you."
She put her badge to a sensor, walked back inside the building. I stood by the door, rocking on my heels. People exited, asked me, "You need to get in?" "No, I'm waiting for someone."
A trim, efficient lady poked her head out the door. "Are you waiting to get in the PR office?" Yes, I was. She asked me if I had an appointment. I admitted that I didn't. She asked me if I had any particular reason for wanting to see it. I said I was a tourist, was curious.
"What is it?" I asked. "I mean, are there pamphlets? Are there interactive displays? What's there to see?" She said that there were some pictures, lots of pamphlets. She said that she might not be able to get me into the PR Office, but that if I came into the lobby, I could see some of the displays, and she'd get me some pamphlets. "Wow, that would be great, thanks!"
She held open the door for me, let me into the lobby. Inside, the first lady I'd talked to was talking to a receptionist. I waved at her and thanked her. She waved back and left. The trim, efficient lady pointed me at a computer with a touchscreen.
The computer prompted me to enter my name, then showed me an aerial photo of the WIPP site and invited me to touch parts of the photo so that it could pop-up the names of various buildings. The interface was so unresponsive and clunky that this kept me busy for several minutes. I was still trying to get it to work when the trim, efficient woman cleared her throat behind me. Oh no, were they kicking me out? I'd barely gotten started. And was this really the whole thing? I'd come all this way for this little touch screen?
I needn't have worried. The trim, efficient woman spoke: "She says that you can come in. I started to get together some materials for you and she said she can do it, she knows her way around there better, whatever you want she can find it for you faster, she says..." I nodded, trying to wear a facial expression that was at once respectful (for I was sure that the trim, efficient lady would have done a fine job of getting together some pamphlets for me) and thankful (for the privelege of getting into the PR Office after hours). I thanked her.
I entered the PR Office, was was just off the lobby, to the left, just as I'd pictured it in my head. There were many low file cabinets, some tall locking cabinets. There were some low cubicle walls. There didn't seem to be any inhabitants. I heard a rustle. "Uhm, hello?" I queried.
The PR lady emerged from behind a cabinet, greeted me, put a binder of PR materials into my hands, asked me about my interest in WIPP. I was flabbergasted. This was the fastest anyone had talked to me since I'd left California. I said I was a tourist.
She asked me how I'd come to hear about the site. I didn't exactly lie, though I didn't tell the whole truth. I could have said that I'd heard about it months ago, had been intrigued, had been looking forward to visiting. But then I would have looked like an idiot, showing up late, not knowing it was possible to tour the WIPP site, generally being an unprepared boob. I didn't tell the whole truth. "Yesterday, I didn't even know this was here," I said, "but I saw a blurb about it in this pamphlet at the Chamber of Commerce, and I was curious."
She asked me to sign a sign-in book. This was much easier to do than entering my name in the touchscreen computer.
Did I have any special interest? "Just general interest, I guess." Was I interested in this pamphlet right here? I said I wouldn't know until I'd read it. She put that pamphlet into the binder. She held up another pamphlet: was I interested in this? I didn't know; she put it into the binder. She asked me if I wanted to tour the WIPP facility. I asked if there was a good way to get there if I didn't have a car. She made a sad face: she didn't think there was. I shrugged, said, "Maybe next time." Since I wasn't going to the site, she gave me a chunk of salt mined from the site. She held up a book called the League of Women Voters' Nuclear Waste Primer. Was I interested in it? I wouldn't know until I'd read it. She put it (a $10.95 retail value) into my binder. She pointed out some informative displays in the lobby, displays not dependent on clunky computer technology. She encouraged me to look at them. I thanked her, exited to the lobby, looked over the displays.
One display compared the entombment of nuclear waste in the salt mines of New Mexico to the entombment of Egyptian nobles. Reasons that the WIPP site was chosen include its geological stability and its freedom from moisture. Freedom from moisture--archaeologists had been especially eager to dig up Egyptian sites that were far from the Nile, since the lack of moisture would preserve artifacts.
I imagined archaeologists of the future. What if they found out about the WIPP site, but didn't know its purpose? What if they just heard rumors that there was some installation out there, buried, preserved? Maybe there'd be vague rumors of a deadly curse upon the place; that hadn't dissuaded the archaeologists who'd dug up Egypt.
Musing on this, I waved bye-bye to the receptionist. The trim, efficient lady let me out of the building.