Hello, everybody.
Lots of good comments after yesterday’s posts.
I miss having a computer at work that allowed easy commenting. Honestly, the machine I have at work is…abysmal. There’s just no other way to put it. I think it’s on the version of Internet Explorer that came with it upon delivery in 1985.
Not much of consequence to write about today. Tonight is Geography with a lab. I wrote on Monday that this class would be a snooze-fest, but the instructor is actually quite engaging. Good sense of humor, and what’s more he treats us like adults, which is not the norm around here.
I miss my wife and cats, though. Seems I get home just in time for us to have our ten crabbiest minutes of the day together. We’re both exhausted and stressed by that time, so there hasn’t been a lot of good rapport around casa de Admin Worm this week.
That will hopefully be remedied tomorrow when I have no classes. The ringer will be turned off as will the computer: I intend to lavish my wife with affection, and that will take any form your imaginations care to invent.
I found out today that the instructor of a different creative writing course here at Normandale uses "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" as a textbook. Dammit.
EMPLOYMENT AGENCIES
I’m seeking a job to supplement my income, since my wage as an editorial assistant is meager, to say the least. Actually, when all is said and done I’m probably losing money. I drive 15 miles to Stillwater, then 40 miles to Bloomington, then 25 miles to Woodbury each day. That’s a lot of gas and a lot of wear and tear on a vehicle that has recently showed signs of being on its last legs.
Anyway, today I went to an employment agency. I used to work for an employment agency, therefore I need to be careful; a couple of those people read my blog.
That said, whenever I walk into an employment agency, I think about the novel “Atlas Shrugged” by Ayn Rand. In the book, a dollar sign is slapped on everything. When I meet with recruiters, I feel like I’m being viewed as a commission, nothing more and nothing less.
Their offices were nice, but I got a rare back-room view that was pretty entertaining. On the face of it, it’s a gorgeous, modern office with spacious conference rooms, expensive furniture, the whole nine yards. However, someone left the door open between the reception area and the phone bank sweat shop, and I nearly ran screaming. Remember those Time-Life commercials with the friendly operators standing by to take your call? That’s what I saw, except rather than actors they were real-life salespeople.
I wanted to shower with all my clothes on.
Anyway, I met with a young (very pregnant) lady named Liz, and if her manner of speaking is any indication Liz’s baby won’t sleep for the first couple years of its life due to the fact that mommy’s blood is 99% caffeine. She was a little hyper, that Liz. Liz will be lactating cappuccino with extra whip.
Anyway, I put my financial future in the hands of a woman 15 years my junior and I cringe at the thought of the calls I’m in for. “Tom, do I have an opportunity for you! How does two months of data entry in a windowless basement sound to you, Tom? Tom, are you beholden to earning actual money, or would you consider working for trade? I’ve got a business owner with a 1980 Honda Civic to unload, and word on the street is that you’re after a fuel-efficient vehicle.”
God.
I dunno. This week seems to be all about taking one day at a time. I claim not to care about anything or anyone, but that flies in the face of my incessant worry. If my worst fears are true—if we’re nothing more than the figment of the imagination of an infinite consciousness that dreamed us up as a result of eating pizza too close to bedtime—then who gives an RFA (rat’s f**king a**) what happens two weeks from now? A week from now? Tomorrow? Tonight?
That was a whole lotta babbling for no money shot, eh? Sorry for that. Like I said from the get-go, not much of consequence to say today. For those of you who get the privilege of spending your evening with loved ones rather than listening to a lecture on polar ice caps, land forms, and the earth’s molten core, do me a favor and shut off the television long enough to just hug them. Don’t talk and jinx it; just “shush” them and hold them for a few minutes, because if I had my way I’d be in the rapt embrace of my sweetie tonight, watching a bad movie.
I miss having a computer at work that allowed easy commenting. Honestly, the machine I have at work is…abysmal. There’s just no other way to put it. I think it’s on the version of Internet Explorer that came with it upon delivery in 1985.Not much of consequence to write about today. Tonight is Geography with a lab. I wrote on Monday that this class would be a snooze-fest, but the instructor is actually quite engaging. Good sense of humor, and what’s more he treats us like adults, which is not the norm around here.
I miss my wife and cats, though. Seems I get home just in time for us to have our ten crabbiest minutes of the day together. We’re both exhausted and stressed by that time, so there hasn’t been a lot of good rapport around casa de Admin Worm this week.
That will hopefully be remedied tomorrow when I have no classes. The ringer will be turned off as will the computer: I intend to lavish my wife with affection, and that will take any form your imaginations care to invent.
I found out today that the instructor of a different creative writing course here at Normandale uses "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" as a textbook. Dammit.
EMPLOYMENT AGENCIESI’m seeking a job to supplement my income, since my wage as an editorial assistant is meager, to say the least. Actually, when all is said and done I’m probably losing money. I drive 15 miles to Stillwater, then 40 miles to Bloomington, then 25 miles to Woodbury each day. That’s a lot of gas and a lot of wear and tear on a vehicle that has recently showed signs of being on its last legs.
Anyway, today I went to an employment agency. I used to work for an employment agency, therefore I need to be careful; a couple of those people read my blog.
That said, whenever I walk into an employment agency, I think about the novel “Atlas Shrugged” by Ayn Rand. In the book, a dollar sign is slapped on everything. When I meet with recruiters, I feel like I’m being viewed as a commission, nothing more and nothing less.
Their offices were nice, but I got a rare back-room view that was pretty entertaining. On the face of it, it’s a gorgeous, modern office with spacious conference rooms, expensive furniture, the whole nine yards. However, someone left the door open between the reception area and the phone bank sweat shop, and I nearly ran screaming. Remember those Time-Life commercials with the friendly operators standing by to take your call? That’s what I saw, except rather than actors they were real-life salespeople.
I wanted to shower with all my clothes on.
Anyway, I met with a young (very pregnant) lady named Liz, and if her manner of speaking is any indication Liz’s baby won’t sleep for the first couple years of its life due to the fact that mommy’s blood is 99% caffeine. She was a little hyper, that Liz. Liz will be lactating cappuccino with extra whip.
Anyway, I put my financial future in the hands of a woman 15 years my junior and I cringe at the thought of the calls I’m in for. “Tom, do I have an opportunity for you! How does two months of data entry in a windowless basement sound to you, Tom? Tom, are you beholden to earning actual money, or would you consider working for trade? I’ve got a business owner with a 1980 Honda Civic to unload, and word on the street is that you’re after a fuel-efficient vehicle.”
God.
I dunno. This week seems to be all about taking one day at a time. I claim not to care about anything or anyone, but that flies in the face of my incessant worry. If my worst fears are true—if we’re nothing more than the figment of the imagination of an infinite consciousness that dreamed us up as a result of eating pizza too close to bedtime—then who gives an RFA (rat’s f**king a**) what happens two weeks from now? A week from now? Tomorrow? Tonight?
That was a whole lotta babbling for no money shot, eh? Sorry for that. Like I said from the get-go, not much of consequence to say today. For those of you who get the privilege of spending your evening with loved ones rather than listening to a lecture on polar ice caps, land forms, and the earth’s molten core, do me a favor and shut off the television long enough to just hug them. Don’t talk and jinx it; just “shush” them and hold them for a few minutes, because if I had my way I’d be in the rapt embrace of my sweetie tonight, watching a bad movie.
posted by Admin Worm at 3:28 PM
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