Is there anywhere I can stay to do work and chill until 10pm?

2022.01.21 05:34 hiraeth00 Is there anywhere I can stay to do work and chill until 10pm?

I know that most places are closed due to COVID, but I can't stay at home until very late at night because of family issues. I'd like to find a place with Wi-Fi and a desk/outlets that is open til 10pm--does anyone know of such a place? The local library is only open til 5pm. Thank you so much!!
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2022.01.21 05:34 kevbhoy79 LIVE: Patent Reveals HIV in Shots - Doctor DEAD After Vaxx Discovery

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2022.01.21 05:34 elastricity Can someone explain the difference between the Regular 30 day Metro Pass and the EZ Pass?

Just a little confused by the website. Does the base EZ pass include busses in LA? Or is it only the trains, plus certain bus lines in other cities in LA county?
Basically, I'm not quite clear if the EZ Pass is comprehensive, or more of an expansion pack for the regular pass. Or if I'm misunderstanding it entirely...
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2022.01.21 05:34 One_Zebra_4547 awww cool people in macau now are drinking at night and only at night

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2022.01.21 05:34 MFBR Digimon Con Music Project- Let's Sing Brave Heart Together!

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2022.01.21 05:34 volfan1983xxx It’s FlashBack Friday so here is Jackie Stewart 1967 BRM P83 F1 at the 1967 British Grand Prix at Silverstone

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2022.01.21 05:34 emd_alliant participants needed for research project

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2022.01.21 05:34 kahkashan21 To all the parents, a letter about understanding depression

I'm lying down since morning and sleeping. I somehow manage to eat food and I struggle even though I was very hungry. I'm just sinking into a big void, everything seems grey. The only place I want to be is in a big blank space where there is no one, no voice, nothing. The thing that hurts is that there are so less people from whom we get validated. And from asking that validation comes plenty amount of guilt. I'm misunderstood and my words seem too less to let you know what hell has broken loose, the havoc its creating. I don't wanna fight depression. This isn't a battlefield. Whenever I fight, I loose a piece of myself and I don't want that. I end up suppressing my feelings, bottling them up and then comes the anxiety. Im consciously putting so many efforts that I'm really exhausted, too tired. Too tired to cry, tears don't form,my mind has given up. And whatever I'm telling you is just a fraction of the reality. Please, try to take a look at my emotions, try to understand my perspective,not just tell me to eat the meds cause they don't work all the time. All I ask is more attentiveness about this issue. It will mean a lot.
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2022.01.21 05:34 amognsus38 Hoodposts

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2022.01.21 05:34 austeritynosta3lgi Daisy Keech

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2022.01.21 05:34 benjamin_69 Alfa Romeo 159 1.9jtdm

I have a car problem. While driving, fuse f17 blows and the car no longer wants to start. I replace the fuse and shake the wires under the hood and the car starts again. I can't find any short circuit. Does anyone have a similar problem?
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2022.01.21 05:34 mashed_ash Will using a 18w power delivery output damage the SP8 battery?

My new office has installed 18w usb-c power outputs on each desk. I guess the intention is to use these for people to charge their phones. Yesterday I didnt have my surface pro charger with me but had a usb-c cable so tried using he power output on the desk.
It worked and charged my surface pro 8 from 46% to 100% in around 2 hours. The device was largely sleeping during this time.
The question is would using a lower power delivery source such as 18w damage the surface pro ?
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2022.01.21 05:34 cmnnewsofficial Owners of Dogecoin are pleading with McDonald's to accept Doge

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2022.01.21 05:34 JuicyIce Would this work 🤔

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2022.01.21 05:34 MilkyArtz Fanartina Crashosa 👀

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2022.01.21 05:34 stank-breath Gas resident vent

My program culture definitely prioritizes CRNA happiness over our learning, even had a CRNA comfortable enough to tell a senior resident to pre op their patients for them?! For anyone who’s in a different speciality this would be akin to a mid level telling a senior resident to round on and go write notes on their patient… where I’m at crna practice independently and our anesthesia group built a culture to enable this behavior …. This is just one example but it’s extremely frustrating because as residents we have zero pull or leverage in how a private anesthesia group is structured… all the attendings are buddy buddy with crnas and many condescend us regularly…. I still have a few years here … here’s to hoping my class can be the change and won’t be retaliated against 🥂
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2022.01.21 05:34 RenegadeWriting Maintenance (Food Service Fairy Tales #17)

It started with the water damage. Well, the end started with the water damage. I suppose it really started well before my time, I never really had a chance to know anything else. When you think of a kitchen, if you haven’t worked in one, you will almost always think of something idyllic in comparison to the real thing. If you think of happy workers running around from shining station to shining station, working hard but caught up in some form of order, you are wrong. Probably. I suppose I’m not actually sure, as I only experienced this place and swore never to return to the industry. There are many things to say about working here, but I’ll spare you those details. I’m sure you’ve heard enough. No, I tell you the end started with water damage because that’s what broke the camel’s back, for me.
When I came to this restaurant, I believed that it would be the best job I ever had. Why, you may ask? Well, I tell you that it is because I am generally an antisocial person, and this is the first “low-skill” job I could find that had me interact with the fewest people. This job had so much potential for a simple reason: it was run by an enormous machine.
That was the draw, you see, that pulled customers in. They liked to watch it work, watch it assemble parts of their food and flip things. I never got the appeal: I got bored of those see-through tortilla machines when I was a kid, and I didn’t see much of a difference here. Besides, it wasn’t completely automatic. Someone had to put in the ingredients, someone had to clean the damn thing. That someone was me.
Oh, there was the register too, but the only applicants were practically kids, and cashiers came and went. I made deals with every newcomer to the store: they could mess around on their phone or whatever and cash their checks, as long as they took every order. The brunt of the work, the cleaning and the prepping and the bagging, that was all me. I liked this system, for it meant the cashier didn’t always talk to me, and it guaranteed the customers didn’t. The machine was like the perfect coworker: completely silent (well, in terms of words, anyway) and dependable.
But I told you already that it started with the water. I have also, if you remember, told you that it was I who cleaned the machine, and maintenance and cleaning often went hand in hand. I knew when the belt was on its last legs, for it was under my grill scraper that the spokes finally snapped. I knew which cogs needed replacing, for my fingers were against their rust every night as I cleaned them. We developed a sort of language, the machine and I. I learned more about the machine than the engineer who built it. Exposure alone was my teacher, and I received my education forty hours a week.
My earliest recollection of my struggle is a power cord. It was thick, so thick it had its own specialized outlet in the wall, its own switch in the fuse box. It was the lynchpin of the system, the mechanism’s keystone, the one thing that, if left to failure, would bring the entire operation grinding to a halt. And it was fraying.
Yes, the machine, with its big wire cover, had to be plugged in at an almost ninety degree angle. The protective rubber sleeve around the power supply pulled itself away due to the strain of curving. The wires were exposed. I reported it the instant I saw it happening, but I received no response. I brought it up four months later at a company performance review, the only time I could really sit down with my boss and discuss things, and nothing came of it (rest assured, they did thank me for mentioning it though: problem solved, in their eyes).
I hated that power cable. It frightened me. I couldn’t care less if my prediction that something would happen to it came to pass, but I did worry I would fall on it one day, or maybe reach without looking as I cleaned and electrocute myself. It occupied a space in my mind that both begged me to pay attention to it, and repulsed me from its presence. Of course the rubber sleeve got more and more displaced over time, as did my ability to care about it. We all adapt to our circumstances, whether we like to or not, and though it still filled me with dread to look at it, I found simply forgetting its existence much more therapeutic.
I didn’t forget completely of my own volition either. There were several heating elements in the machine, each able to be set to cook its own food at its own temperature. The compartmentalization was elegant: I could fulfill any orders I needed to, without any consideration of what else it was making simultaneously. All I needed to do was set the temp and let it run. But a Saturday came, one dreaded Saturday, that seven heat-intensive orders came through. I thought nothing of it, at the time: the machine had never failed me before. I didn’t realize, or consider, that the heating elements all drew from the same power supply. Until one of them shorted.
I stopped caring about the wire simply because I had new problems to worry about, but the old problems never really went away.
I was down a heating element, which made it that much more difficult to run busy shifts. I now knew not to stack too many orders in the machine at high heat, at least, but the damage had been done. I couldn’t work as efficiently. Maybe I couldn’t put a percentage on how much productivity I lost, but I could feel the roadblock dragging me down. I asked my bosses to help me out, though I should have expected the result.
Oh, they sent out their maintenance guys, sure, and he confirmed that one of the heating elements was fried. They would have to shut down the store for about an hour, or repair it after close. They’d have to replace the part, the price of which he didn’t know off the top of his head but he knew it would be expensive. It was radio silence from everyone else. I didn’t get any sort of answer on how long it would take to repair until I sent an email to my boss directly. You know what he said to me? “That’s an expensive question. Does it still work?”
You can imagine how that went. I ended up asking the cashiers to help keep up sometimes.
This was the way of things in the restaurant. At first, I learned to make do. Ignore the power cable. Ignore the broken heating element. Ignore, adapt, slow down. When two of the vents in the hood stopped working, and smoke started pooling just enough to be visible if you looked hard enough, what was I to do? Ignore, adapt, slow down. The drain in the middle of the floor doesn’t actually work, and is beginning to grow a strange brown sludge? Pour some bleach in there, mop around it. Ignore, adapt, slow down. It became my mantra, my coping mechanism.
And when you find yourself coping every day, that’s a sure sign you need to get out.
But I didn’t. We grow complacent, we ignore, we adapt. We accept when we slow down, or at least I did. Nothing was ideal, of course, but it was all ok, and ok was enough for a paycheck. For a while. But recall when I told you it began with the water damage? I meant what I said, and that’s the nature of water damage. It’s a sneaky thing, it’s something you may see begin to fester, but you easily forget its presence until the damage has been done. The water damage probably began well before I came to work here, but it definitely brought the place to an end.
Remember the power outlet? The thing whose wires were exposed, whose housing was nowhere to be found? Well, it just so happened the reservoir in the machine, situated as far as possible from the electrics, was leaking. I never found out what caused it. The water flowed through the back of the machine, pooling, collecting, until it finally started dripping where the machine met the wall.
Bit by bit, it worked its way down, edging out the wall like a worm burrowing in the earth. Bit by bit, the condensation formed above the exposed power supply. Bit by bit, droplet by droplet, the water fell into the electronics. The circuitry fizzled and cracked, and the machine, finally, shut down.
The restaurant was closed for several days. It was a complicated machine, delicate, and when one major component ceased to function, seven more systems felt the effects. Where the repair was originally a three hundred dollar adapter, an interchangeable part, it now became a several hundred thousand dollar ordeal. They lost more money from the store closure on top of that, and I, for the first time, found myself with a week off.
I thought about the work, then: it wasn’t hard, but it wasn’t easy either. It was long, and arduous. When the machine worked perfectly, all was well, but the machine never worked perfectly. I’d always have to learn some new fix, some dumb technique, to get around the wear and tear management refused to fix. I didn’t want to do it anymore. It wasn’t worth the money, feeling responsible for this gargantuan thing. Feeling pity for it, this highly animated inanimate object.
So I left.
Now that one more cog was gone, the machine teetered a little. The machine known as the restaurant ground together. It kept working, sure, but just a little worse. New guys came and went, replacing cashiers, replacing my position. Some of the other parts of the machine began to lean on one another in ways it wasn’t designed to. The new parts didn’t have the experience, the workarounds, that I had. They could take the weight, sure, but for how long? How long would it be until another cog snapped, and the machine buckled, and the work stopped? How long?
“That’s an expensive question,” I imagine the boss saying, “we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
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2022.01.21 05:34 4MANN444 Diagonal rear brakepad wear, KLR 650. Thoughts?

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2022.01.21 05:34 xenocarp Fraction9 has launched “Madhura” and “Prabal” robusta coffees for 299/- for 250gm. With “coffee with milk” as recommendations. Why not then buy bulk coffee instead ?

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2022.01.21 05:34 itsfreepizza Australia 🗿

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2022.01.21 05:34 Snerfblatt [Sell][US] Missha All-Around Safe Block Essence Sun Milk, Innisfree Vitalizing Skin Mist

Shipping is $4.50-$5.10, depending on where I'm shipping to.
MISSHA All-Around Safe Block Essence Sun Milk (used twice) $8
Innisfree Vitalizing Skin Mist with Aloe (unopened, still sealed in plastic) $10
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2022.01.21 05:34 Three-stripes What would be the Orzhov equivalent for "Amen"

I've based the Orzhov through my knowledge catholicism at least in the way of speech my priest npcs will use when talking to PCs or Pcs who are members of the syndicate.
i dont want to use the word "Amen" to conclude prayers, or be used as a word of approval as some of catholic and christian faith do when they are responding to a blessing.
any ideas?
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2022.01.21 05:34 chrisx14 RHOBH filming at The Polo Lounge

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