04.15.2002 - At Least I Didn't Have To Worry About Taxes

After having a very restless night, I awoke, slipped into business attire and trudged outside in the rain to head to work. I think the first words I said today were "fuck this decaffinated bullshit." It was one of those days.

The butch to my bitch is out of the office all week, so I have few actual tasks aside from trying not to fall asleep and being treated like a leper by the rest of my coworkers. While I somewhat enjoyed not having anything to do at my old job, it's not nearly as pleasurable at my current place of employment. They keep close tabs on use of the internet and e-mail, so my primary source of entertainment and distraction is nixed. I have to do things that give off the impression that I'm actually busy. The environment encourages one to work as inefficiently as possible to maintain the illusion that he or she always has work to do, thus avoiding additional work or seeming like his or her position is unnecessary. As such, things that could be combined into one trip, such as fetching the mail and dropping paperwork at someone's desk is split into at least two, hopefully three trips. It's not pleasureable, but at least it's more exciting than sitting at my desk staring at a blank Excel spreadsheet.

Shortly after I got to the office, I got a call on my cell phone from a regional manager with my former company letting me know she had some work for me to do, and I could just go into the office this afternoon and call her for instructions. With nothing better to do, I hopped in the van after a stiflingly boring day at my first job and headed out to Woodland.

When I got there, I saw my old boss' car in the parking lot, but found the door locked with a note saying "@ lunch. Be back shortly" affixed firmly on the window. Since I still have a key, I just walked in, where I found my boss eating a sandwich at his desk. Apparently, the office supervisor is out for the week, and he didn't feel like dealing with applicants, so he closed the door and told anyone that came in the computers were down. A man after my own heart, he is.

I called the regional manager immediately to find out what's going on, but she was out of the office at the time. While I waited for her to return my call, I caught up with my old manager. An hour passed, and I said I'd only wait one more before I left, boldy lying that I had better things to do. I sat down at my old desk and got paid to surf the internet once again. It was just like old times.

Because I'm not there to do my old job, I didn't really feel inclined to answer phones or anything, but as a favor to my boss, I did twice. One caller was his girlfriend and another was an associate inquiring about a resume she submitted. While I was on the phone with the second person, someone else called and asked specifically for me. When I picked up that line, the woman said "you're a fucking rude little asshole, you know?" before hanging up the phone abruptly.

Jeebus apparently hates me.

I haven't worked there in a month and I didn't recognize the voice as anyone I knew or had spoken with that day, so I was perplexed and somewhat unhappy. Things would have been perfect if someone had waltzed through the door, forcefully punched me in the throat and walked out. After two hours of waiting with no returned phone call, I decided to leave to avoid that fate.

Once home, I decided to call around to see if any salvage yards wanted to give me cash for my old car. On Sunday, I made an initial round of calls but only contacted one yard. They offered me "up to sixty-seven dollars" for what used to be my baby. I figured I'd give it another go today, and got someone to come check out my car after his business closed.

In the meantime, I had to clean him out and off. The car has been parked under a tree for the past three weeks, and had a nice protective coating of sap and herry blossom leaves in addition to the three years of garbage and memories I had stashed inside. After I flushed out the interior, I needed to get the car over to a hose, but I didn't feel like pushing it. The last time I attempted to start the car, it wouldn't. I figured I'd give it another go today, and miraculously, it worked. After spraying off all the debris, I decided to take it for one last spin, driving several times around the parking lot, completely afraid to have it break down any farther away from home.

Soon after, a gentleman showed up at my door to look at my car. The funny thing is, I interviewed this guy at my old job. He took a look at the beast and accepted my price for the car, which instantly made me think I should have asked for more money. Still, I'm happy, because it's gone and I either have enough money to buy a laptop or a new stereo and tires for the van.

Cleaning out my car gave me fodder for one crappy, sappy column that took far too long to write considering how short and terrible it is. At least I had company while I was writing. Julia came over and read me startling details from her Sex Counselor training manual and groused with me as I slowly banged away on my keyboard.

Eventually, I finished. Feeling more tired than I have in at least the past two months, I finally collapsed in the bed for a short and unfortunately temporary stay in bed. I'm hoping I can keep finding a reason to get out.

-- Jeffy