Yeah, That’s Not Going To Happen

OK, so I know it has been only a week or so, but no way is the Vegas version of a call center job going to result in the summer of a lifetime, long-term friendships or even sex like the Boulder incarnation did. Way too many people, for one, packed into tiny cubes; too many to interact with any one person. Plus there is nowhere within walking distance to go get a drink. And I am just so anti-social right now and the sort of people this job attracts are, well, not my cup of tea this time around. And my memory may be playing tricks on me, but I do not recall the surveys I did back then being as mind-numbingly boring as these (one was about an electric power line in Arkansas. Another was about how an international trade agreement would affect Oregon. Yawn). One thing that has not changed, however, is how rude and mean and downright horrible people are. You know, if you do not want to do a survey, fine, no need to yell at me about it. And those Arkansans telling me “I hate that son of a bitch” about our President or the number of stoned Oregonians I spoke with are really just enforcing their respective state’s stereotypes.

Will Lightening Strike Twice?

In the spring of 19??, I was living in Boulder, Colo. I was recently divorced and newly unemployed. I had been let go, after a week, from an office position because I did not have a car. They knew this at the interview. They thought it would not be a problem. Turns out, it was. Pisser was, I’d given up a relatively cushy job as an assistant manager of a book store. (Remember those? Funnily enough, it was located in a strip mall along with, amongst others, a travel agents and a Blockbuster. It must be a wasteland now.) Desperate for work, I took a job doing telephone market research. You know the sort, those ’phone surveys about, amongst other things, elections (“If the election was held tomorrow, who would you vote for?”).

That spring turned into one of the best summers of my life, even though I had no money, no car, and a pretty crappy living situation (I was rooming with two girls, an Indian girl who very sweet but boring and a born-again Christian chick who was just boring). I worked mid-afternoon to nine at night and weighed the least I have ever weighed in my American life (I am convinced that shift had a lot to do with that). I casually dated, read a ton, and hung out with some of my co-workers at bars on the Pearl Street Mall during their late-night happy hours (none of us could afford to drink any other time). One time, on a day off, I had a date in one such bar. After the date imploded, I wasn’t ready to go home so I went into the offices to see if anyone was about to finish a shift and wanted to get a drink. One girl did, and said, “Yeah, let’s go to the Cellar, it’s Trivia Tuesday.”

The rest, as they say, is history.

I’d have never discovered the Pearl Street Cellar if she had not taken me there (no one did, it was located, um, in a cellar and at the quieter end of the mall and pretty much everyone who went there had been taken by someone else). My co-worker introduced me to some of her friends there. One of them was a young man named J. He was, at the time, the most handsome man I had ever met in real life. We quickly bonded over our shared Capricornism (is that even a word/thing?) and our love of the Pittsburgh Steelers (although mine was not as advanced then as it is now). 

I eventually got a “proper” job but remained close to some co-workers, one of whom introduced me to her neighbor, T. I became, um, friends with T. who invited me to a party at his house. Also at this party was JTV, a friend of T.’s and a regular at the Cellar! I know to most of you this would seem like a wild coincidence but this was in Boulder, where instead of six, it is just two degrees of separation. JTV had brought along a friend of his. The prettiest boy alive (yep, that guy).

The rest, as they say, is history.

So yes, because of this one job I met some of the most important people in my life. I am still friends with J. and JTV, and T. and I are Facebook friends (he is married now, to someone who used to work with another dear friend of mine, PLL - again, Boulder, two degrees). I continued going to the Cellar in its new incarnation, when it moved to a street-level location in the middle of the Mall, and I took E. and D. there and we made it our regular hang-out in another brief but fantastic time in my life.

So why am I sharing all this? Because tomorrow, I start working a part-time and (god, I hope) temporary position at a telephone market research company.

Will the rest, as they say, be history?

One is the loneliest number

It's the loneliest number since the number one. Cats do not have opposable thumbs. That is all.

The First Idol Post of the Season

If Daniel Seavey wins, I am never watching Idol again. That is all.

One Week

 

Neighbors were selling it. Less than six months old, 40 inches, $150. Of course I jumped at it. Of course it was the day before I was let go. Ad went on Craig’s List the day after I was let go. Sold it today. Made a $25 profit, but still. It was a glorious week of television watching. Back to 20 inches. Sigh.

Once… Twice… Three Times a Loser

Yep, new new job is done. They let me go this afternoon. Said I was not “picking it up quickly enough.” Which confirms my suspicions that I am too old to learn new stuff. I really did try, this time. I mean, with the first new job I can understand why they let me go, but not with this one. I was learning more every day but I guess my pace was “too slow for their business model” (that phase was bandied about in the exit interview) (gag). But whilst I am devastated I have once again lost a job (that is three in 12-and-a-half months) I really am not devastated I lost this job. Because that commute was a bitch and there was some intense favoritism going on there (to those who have the same last name as the owners, if you know what I mean) and it was way too sales-oriented (I told them at my interview I could not sell a cup of water to a man dying of thirst).

So what now? Well, first off, I am not plugging this post on Facebook. And I will not send a link to some friends like I usually do. I am not telling anyone yet (well, I told one person so far but only because I hope he is sympathetic enough to want to fuck me. Kind of hard (ha!) though considering he lives in California, and has a wife and all). I am going to lay low this weekend (by that I mean drink myself into a stupor) and I shall not be answering my phone (should it ring) or reply to any texts or emails. Right now I cannot think beyond this booze-filled weekend.

What a loser I am.

My New New Job, Three Weeks And One Day

Phew! I have survived longer at this job than my last one!! Yeah, only by a quarter of a day but still. Who knows for how much longer, though, because well, as it stands right now, I do not think there will be enough work for me. It could be that it is just a quiet sales period for the industry (something to do with selling electronic components - I haven’t yet got a good grasp on what it is they do exactly. But if you think that is bad, I still can’t quite remember the company’s name because it is really similar to a previous company I worked for (well, similar in the sense that both names begin with C), plus they have a subsidiary (that one buys the components (I think)), so I just keep referring to the business card I have stuck on my computer (I say it is there because I haven’t memorized the fax number or the address yet – can’t really tell them the real reason, right?!).)

Anyway, I know this is a terrible attitude to have, what with the year I just had, but frankly, should they chose not to continue my employment, I would not be that devastated. Because the commute is bad. Well, me-bad. For the average American it is probably, well, average. Plus the learning curve is pretty steep. Either that or I am just too old to be learning new stuff.

One positive is that I have been eating healthier because of it. There are no vending machines in the building and it is located in the middle of nowhere, with nothing nearby. Well, there is a 7-eleven, but it would require making a left turn to get to it, so that’s not feasible. So I eat only what I take with me and I have been taking only relatively healthy stuff like almonds and pineapple and grapes and protein bars and Lean Cuisines.

On, and sexy bicep tattoo guy just keeps getting hotter. He is really nice (bastard) but he can be a bit moody which makes him even hotter. I think his SO is older than him, too, so maybe he likes older women. Now, if only he liked fat ones too, and wasn’t fussy about cheating, then I’d be set.

My New New Job, Day 1

I don’t hate it, but… meh. After almost a year of no other job offers I cannot afford to be picky. I just have to suck it up. I did find out sexy bicep tattoo guy has a significant other and kids. Or dogs. Or even cats. (He referred to them in a species-neutral way.)

Year in Review - 2014 Edition

For reasons unbeknownst to me, my first Year in Review post (2012 edition) continues to be the most read of this blog. This put an enormous amount of pressure on the shoulders of the 2013 YIR post. Unfortunately, it could not match the numbers of its predecessor (not even close – 768 views compared to 16). So had 2014 been a “normal” year I would have striven to make its YIR entry stand out. But that was not destined to be, for whilst the first 14 days were OK, and the last nine proved to be quite nice, the rest of 2014 was quite sucky. So, to the majority of 2014, I have just one thing to say: Go fuck yourself.

Is today my last day on Earth?

Tomorrow is my ??th birthday. Which means today is my last day of being ?? years old. As this post explains, I have long believed I would not live much past ??. Because I have been preoccupied with other things this past year, I had forgotten that this might be the year I die. But had I not been watching The Price is Right job-hunting, would this past year have been lived differently? Not really, I suppose. I mean, if I knew for certain I was going to die, I would have tried to fit in visits to various places (England, New Zealand, Denver, Pittsburgh, etc.), but that would be impossible anyway, because of Sammy and money issues. Oh, I just thought of something: maybe that is why the Universe conspired to keep me out of work for such a long time – to take my mind off my imminent death. Ironically, I would have been out of work for some of the year anyway, if I could guarantee my death, because no effing way am I working if I do not need to and if I am going to be dead then I would not need to work.  

So, with no plans to drive today (no plans to even get dressed, still in my nightwear (Superbowl XL t-shirt)), the probable way I am going to die is eliminated. There is still the chance of the heart attack (the second probable cause of my death). There is nothing I can do about that today (although starting Monday I am going to try (I even bought almonds from Trader Joe’s)).

But wait, when I have thought about it, I have always used the disclaimer “not much past.” So maybe I will live to see my ??th birthday tomorrow, but will die later (well, yeah, that is kind of guaranteed). So then this raises the issue of how much time is “not much past”. A week, three months, two years? I think my OCD would dictate that “not much” to mean I would still be closer to ?? than ??. And so any time before my half birthday (July 3) falls into the “not much past” timeframe. So, yeah, OK, I will give up on my belief of dying “not much past age ??” if I am still alive on the 4th of July this year.