Council Neophyte Has a Tough Day at the Office

Among the first two lessons to be learned at San Diego City Hall for newcomers are (1) Don’t talk too candidly when you’re in an elevator because you might be overheard, and (2) Find out where the bathrooms are.

Celia Ballesteros, the recently appointed newcomer to the San Diego City Council, is 0 for 2.

First we have her slipping inside an elevator after a somewhat heated public discussion on the pros and cons of a swap meet operation in the South Bay.

That was a “tough decision,” she said to her aides, adding that both sides are “lying.” The aides cringed and introduced her to a City Hall reporter sharing passage on the same elevator.

As for the bathroom: There are a couple of them off a hallway directly behind the council chambers, and each one is simply marked “private.” The other day, Councilman Bill Cleator excused himself from the dais and worked his way to the “private” door on the right. A couple of moments later, Ballesteros entered the same door, the one on the right.

Bystanders waited for the inevitable. And indeed, after five seconds-going-on-eternity, Ballesteros briskly walked out of the door and made a beeline for the door on the left. She broke into laughter just as she opened the door.

As it closed behind her, she yelled out: “Bill, I’m really sorry.”

Supercomputer Fun

Now that UC San Diego has its supercomputer, you can’t be too casual about anything on campus when it comes to accuracy. A warning attached to the campus parking meters reads: “The position of the time arrow is only an approximation of the actual time remaining.”

Indeed, the supercomputer (“SC” to its friends) is turning into a folk hero of sorts. They’re selling T-shirts at the campus bookstore that proclaim: “I got my numbers crunched at the SDSC.”

Downsizing for Dollars

At Escondido City Hall, they’re trying to get out from under a paper crunch. There’s still red tape, but by order of the City Council, 8 1/2-by-14-inch legal-size paper is generally being discontinued in favor of more conventional--and more easily filed--8 1/2-by-11-inch letter-size paper.

City Clerk Jeanne Bunc figures the city will save $7,500 when it moves into its new City Hall in a year or so, by purchasing smaller file cabinets, not to mention cost savings in buying the smaller sheets. It’s been killing her, she said, to see three-paragraph staff reports on a 14-inch-long piece of paper.

The first letter-sized City Council agenda will make its debut next week. Now if they would just get them to stop talking as long.

Fast Food Goes Wireless

Then there’s taco shop owner Kiko Akkad, who has found a way to cut down on paper and time. Akkad runs 4A Taco (as in, let’s go for a taco) at the 4-C Square collection of eateries at the corner of 4th and C in downtown San Diego.

When you order the No. 6 Combination or the chicken chimichanga or the whatever for lunch, he immediately repeats the order to your face. But he’s not talking to you. He’s talking into a small wireless microphone, much like those that football referees use on the playing field and some preachers use from the pulpit. In this case, your order is transmitted to a loudspeaker in the kitchen. You don’t have to wonder if the cook can read his scribbles on an order ticket, nor does he have to yell out your order for the whole world to hear.

The gizmo cost $150. “But everyone likes it so much because they’re getting their lunches that much quicker, that I’d like to sell the idea for a million bucks,” he said.

Pointed Humor

Woodie Hall is always looking for a way to make a quick million. He’s our resident 73-year-old San Marcos inventor of stupid little things that you scoff at but then wonder: “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Like mink cuff links, phony credit cards (“Socks 5th Avenue”), executive marbles, “no smoking” signs on car dashboards, those kinds of novelty items.

His latest gimmick: a little plastic dome backed by paper. Inside it, rolling around, are six carpet tacks. And the inscription: “World’s Greatest Tax Shelter.”