SO. NERVOUS. ACK.
I want to go back.
I never thought I would say that. All through the year of Teaching In Hell, I looked back extremely fondly upon my time there. Sometimes the work was tedious, and I stupidly and fate-temptingly thought I was above a lot of the tasks they asked me to do. Ah, hubris. 'Tis a bitch. I thought, I am a college graduate (and I can FIND the POST where I SAID THIS SHIT), why do I have to roll towels? What. The. Eff?? And then, I was a teacher, and I found out what UNFAIR really means. I found out what HELL really was. I got out of it, but I'm on medication to treat the after-effects.
This time, I want to be there. I don't mind climbing the hill (It's almost "winter", after all) from the employee parking lot three thousand miles away. I want to work. I want to say the cheesy spiel when I answer the phone. Y'all can call and heckle me, but I'll be using my phone voice so you probably wouldn't recognize me anyway.
I want. To. Go back. Please, God.
Geez. SO MUCH KLONOPIN NEEDED. I feel like my head is just going to pop right off my neck.
I have a job interview tomorrow at Barton Creek. I worked there for nine years, it's for the same position I was in before, and I quit two years ago. I'm kind of puzzled as to why the eff they want me to interview. Oh well, I'll go and I will DAZZLE them with my skillz.
I will be the best PBX operator they have EVER HAD, bar none. I will roll towels. I will file reg cards. I will be super duper sweet to the darling souls who call and yell at me. I will cheerfully give out member tee times when the pro shops close early. I will not get annoyed when other departments do not answer me on the radio. I will design Christmas Cards and maybe even do interpretive dance. I will be Santa Claus for the members' kids. I DO NOT CARE. I have NO PRIDE.
I just want to go back. Times, they were simple then. It was a simple job. It paid bupkis (sp?), but it paid my bills and even a little left over to Buy Stuff. And I'll be back with the folks again, so no rent, and I do not care what shift I work. Sure, I would rather not do 6:30am, but if I have to, you can bet your sweet butt I will do it. I did it for five years, but I was younger then. It will piss me off every day to get up at 5:15...but I'll do it. I cannot stand not having a job. I feel so helpless and out of control and just...yecch.
I looked on the job postings again, and it says the job is part-time. I would really prefer that, actually, if it weren't for the whole health insurance thing. Sigh.
And you know what? This living alone thing is nice as all hell, but seriously, WTF is up with people HOLLERING in the breezeway and BANGING ON DOORS at 10pm? Some kid (I'd say early 20s, in desperate need of a shower, with bleach) ambushed me while I attempted to get in my car yesterday to go babysit the boy for a few hours. He talked so fast I wondered if he was speaking in tongues. Something about he gets one more person to sign up and he gets a free trip to Cancun. That's really all I got out of it. And I was IT. I was his TICKET. He was on speed, or crack, or something. He scared me a little. He was very nice, up until he handed me this grubby pamphlet that "all [my] neighbors have looked at and ordered from" and it was that standard magazine-ordering bullcrap and I don't want any magazines. I'm going to be here, and I use the term "be here" loosely, for about three and a half more weeks. Also, no income. Helleeew. So I said, attempting to hand the grubby pamphlet back to him (seriously. COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF WATER AND CLEANSER. You do not need Cancun. You need a BATH with a BRISTLE BRUSH and LAVA SOAP, and then maybe dump out that water and soak in some Stank-B-Gone or something, sheesh), and also, trying not to think about the germs crawling up my arm from said grubby pamphlet, "I'm sorry, I just lost my job and am having some medical problems...." when he unceremoniously interrupted with a tirade about how he "can't believe this!" and "they are only 50 cents an issue!" and "I only have ONE PERSON LEFT, GOD!" and began to walk away, shouting over his shoulder about how "Three bucks isn't going to BREAK YOU," and, whilst I was trying to follow the shift from Solicitous and Super-Duper-Nice Fasttalker to Raving Lunatic, I thought, "well, bitching at me for not buying into this is REALLY going to make me change my mind! What an excellent strategy you have! Well done!"
People are Skareeeee.
I never thought I would say that. All through the year of Teaching In Hell, I looked back extremely fondly upon my time there. Sometimes the work was tedious, and I stupidly and fate-temptingly thought I was above a lot of the tasks they asked me to do. Ah, hubris. 'Tis a bitch. I thought, I am a college graduate (and I can FIND the POST where I SAID THIS SHIT), why do I have to roll towels? What. The. Eff?? And then, I was a teacher, and I found out what UNFAIR really means. I found out what HELL really was. I got out of it, but I'm on medication to treat the after-effects.
This time, I want to be there. I don't mind climbing the hill (It's almost "winter", after all) from the employee parking lot three thousand miles away. I want to work. I want to say the cheesy spiel when I answer the phone. Y'all can call and heckle me, but I'll be using my phone voice so you probably wouldn't recognize me anyway.
I want. To. Go back. Please, God.
Geez. SO MUCH KLONOPIN NEEDED. I feel like my head is just going to pop right off my neck.
I have a job interview tomorrow at Barton Creek. I worked there for nine years, it's for the same position I was in before, and I quit two years ago. I'm kind of puzzled as to why the eff they want me to interview. Oh well, I'll go and I will DAZZLE them with my skillz.
I will be the best PBX operator they have EVER HAD, bar none. I will roll towels. I will file reg cards. I will be super duper sweet to the darling souls who call and yell at me. I will cheerfully give out member tee times when the pro shops close early. I will not get annoyed when other departments do not answer me on the radio. I will design Christmas Cards and maybe even do interpretive dance. I will be Santa Claus for the members' kids. I DO NOT CARE. I have NO PRIDE.
I just want to go back. Times, they were simple then. It was a simple job. It paid bupkis (sp?), but it paid my bills and even a little left over to Buy Stuff. And I'll be back with the folks again, so no rent, and I do not care what shift I work. Sure, I would rather not do 6:30am, but if I have to, you can bet your sweet butt I will do it. I did it for five years, but I was younger then. It will piss me off every day to get up at 5:15...but I'll do it. I cannot stand not having a job. I feel so helpless and out of control and just...yecch.
I looked on the job postings again, and it says the job is part-time. I would really prefer that, actually, if it weren't for the whole health insurance thing. Sigh.
And you know what? This living alone thing is nice as all hell, but seriously, WTF is up with people HOLLERING in the breezeway and BANGING ON DOORS at 10pm? Some kid (I'd say early 20s, in desperate need of a shower, with bleach) ambushed me while I attempted to get in my car yesterday to go babysit the boy for a few hours. He talked so fast I wondered if he was speaking in tongues. Something about he gets one more person to sign up and he gets a free trip to Cancun. That's really all I got out of it. And I was IT. I was his TICKET. He was on speed, or crack, or something. He scared me a little. He was very nice, up until he handed me this grubby pamphlet that "all [my] neighbors have looked at and ordered from" and it was that standard magazine-ordering bullcrap and I don't want any magazines. I'm going to be here, and I use the term "be here" loosely, for about three and a half more weeks. Also, no income. Helleeew. So I said, attempting to hand the grubby pamphlet back to him (seriously. COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF WATER AND CLEANSER. You do not need Cancun. You need a BATH with a BRISTLE BRUSH and LAVA SOAP, and then maybe dump out that water and soak in some Stank-B-Gone or something, sheesh), and also, trying not to think about the germs crawling up my arm from said grubby pamphlet, "I'm sorry, I just lost my job and am having some medical problems...." when he unceremoniously interrupted with a tirade about how he "can't believe this!" and "they are only 50 cents an issue!" and "I only have ONE PERSON LEFT, GOD!" and began to walk away, shouting over his shoulder about how "Three bucks isn't going to BREAK YOU," and, whilst I was trying to follow the shift from Solicitous and Super-Duper-Nice Fasttalker to Raving Lunatic, I thought, "well, bitching at me for not buying into this is REALLY going to make me change my mind! What an excellent strategy you have! Well done!"
People are Skareeeee.
posted by Lori at
3:23 PM
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