02.18.2002 - Like A Juggler Running Out Of Hands

I celebrated this President's Day by putting several pictures of George Washington in my wallet. The benefits of making some money by working on what would otherwise be a day off only marginally exceeded those of only peeling my ass from the bed when I needed to go wee wee. Fortunately, going to work paid off in more ways than one.

Normally on a holiday, the flow of applicants would be slower than the flow through Bob Dole's narrow urethra. Things weren't much different today, but my purpose in the office today wasn't to interview new people. We had a new and very important client in the office doing their own interviews with associates we've presented to them. Basically, I had to be there to babysit and look pretty; two jobs for which I am definitely not qualified.

For the first time since the changing of the guard, I didn't really have all that much at the beginning of the day today. I sat back and listened to some of the worst interviews ever, which thankfully gave me an idea for this week's column. When I wasn't trying to find applicants who might not immediately divulge that they just got out of jail for statutory rape without being prompted, I talked shit about the LA Clippers with the people doing the interviewing. It was actually pretty fun.

As the interviews wore on, however, the office started getting more congested. I decided I needed to leave the office for lunch fairly late in the day. By the hand of fate, I ended up running into the mechanic who replaced the belts on my car that snapped last Friday. I told him about it, and he seemed genuinely apologetic. Because I couldn't get the car out to Woodland, he offered to meet me in Davis tomorrow morning to look at it. If it looks like the belt breaking was either due to faulty work or faulty parts, he would take care of it for free. This made me feel good about getting a hankering for greasy fast food. I get a coronary AND free auto repair. How lucky can I get?

When I got back to the office, things died down pretty quickly. I talked with my manager about things we could do to increase the number of applicants we're getting. Since we actually have a manager that our clients don't dispise yet, we have more work than we have qualified associates. I'm trying to change that. If you need full time work, Uncle Jeffy can hook you up proper like, yo.

After work, I had to meet up with Mr. Bestfriendinthewholewideworld to give him back his car and fellate him for the privelige. He told me about his trip to Tahoe, which apparently was not as, um, liquid as most twenty-first birthday celebrations. He seemed glad to be back home and that I didn't wreck his car, as was I.

He wasn't home for three minutes before some girl called. I wish I had the touch.

I had to get down on my column, though, so after he hung up, I got home for a long night at my computer.

Well, what should have been a long night anyway. I have this brain defect that keeps me from writing until I know I have absolutely no time left. My manager told me he would be out of the office all morning tomorrow, so I figure so long as I get a basic outline, I can finish it at work. This means I actually get some desperately needed sleep. It also means I'll probably write a shit-ass column. That's how life is in the big city.

-- Jeffy