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February 26, 2005

THE ART OF UNEMPLOYMENT

“You’re young and you got your health; what do you want with a job?”
-Raising Arizona

So it’s 11:10 p.m. on Friday night and I’m waiting for “Seinfeld”, but it could actually be Wednesday morning at 11:30 a.m. when I’m usually waiting for “Cops”. That’s the great thing about being unemployed; all your waking hours just seem to run together like a big pot of witches brew. You find yourself sleeping until noon, then popping a couple Eggo’s in the toaster, and before you have that 5th cup of coffee, it’s time for “Judge Judy”. I’m telling you, people who don’t work must have the most saturated brains on the planet. It’s pretty scary when you find yourself programmed, after only a couple weeks, to take a 3-minute birdbath of a shower just so you don’t miss one exciting moment of “Divorce Court”. If I overlook a split second of who-cheated-on-who, or one single paternity test result, my whole day is ruined. How can I be expected to keep up with all the philandering, insulting, alimony-non-payments, bling-buying, bling-stealing, fist-fighting drama when I have to shave my legs?

Dating, daytime television, and unemployment definitely go hand in hand in many ways. For example, the act of WAITING is involved in all three, but to different extents. Now dating, which I haven’t personally done since Clinton was in office, requires a sort of fairytale quality. You think you’ve met the prince, you give the prince your number, and you WAIT for the prince to call. When the slimy frog does NOT phone, you throw on your fuzzy slippers, plunge into some Chunky Monkey, and pick out some “I Have Got It-Goin’ On” fire engine red nail polish. Hello, my name is Fabulous!

Daytime television, which is music to the masses of many couch-dwelling potatoes, is a little more predictable. You know your date will always be there, you don’t even have to WAIT for a call. You want bad soap operas performed by every member of overacter’s anonymous? You got it. You want the same tired commercials featuring I-was-a-complete-loser-until-I-enrolled-in GET A LIFE School, for every local Medical, Technical, and Hubcap Replacement College? You got it. You want fat, scary, incoherent, screaming, yelling, finger-pointing, I’m-not-afraid-to-humiliate-myself-on-national-television yahoos? You better BELIEVE you got it. And that’s not all; you also get ads for generic car insurance companies (with really cheesy cartoon visuals), erectile dysfunction (ad-nauseum) commercials, and hair-loss cures for both the balding sexes on the globe. My idea is to take all the hair deficient folk and pair them up with the, um, “Limp Bizkits” (my apologies to the band) of the world. Hey, they’ve both got their shortcomings, but maybe putting their “heads” together could be just the ticket. I know, I’m sorry…I just couldn’t resist.

As for being unemployed, the WAITING game is about as emotionally exhausting as it gets. Like dating, you get that sick, yet excited feeling in your stomach. Like daytime television, you tend to feel like an old rerun being played on TV Land for the 47th time. I know I always feel a hundred times better after watching "Dr. Phil’s" parade of human self-pitying debris, to which he provides his corny brand of down-home, spun-like-sugar advice. Ah yes, to only have to worry about my husband not having an affair with the cleaning woman, or my son’s glue-sniffing habit, or the fact that my German Shepherd just can’t seem to master the doggie door. Boy, that would be the life. That would be a dream come true. In any event, it’s not like things are completely hopeless and luck is entirely out of reach…we always have “Oprah”.

Posted by Wendy at 1:50 PM | Comments (0)

February 7, 2005

DELAYED REACTION

Boy, there's something about getting fired that makes all your self-loathing finally worthwhile. And not only that, it gives you a completely adequate excuse to hate someone. And just by virtue of the fact they actually had the NERVE to "let you go". I think it's true you CAN see red when you get so mad your head spins, and you hyperventilate, and you feel like Linda Blair in "The Exorcist". It also doesn't take much motivation to have a couple shots of Jose Cuervo before 9:00 in the morning. Do you know how angry I am right now? If there were pictures to be hung in this apartment, I could do it without a hammer because I AM spitting nails. Sometimes, it seems like all the effort you put in only comes back to bite you on your FAT TIRED ass. You do your work, you forgoe lunch, you stay late, you rack up overtime, and yet....it's still not enough. Some people DO want blood, and if you can't provide a good vial of it, you're out. Forget it. You don't count. Here's your hat, what's your hurry? Don't let the door hit you on the way out. I'll give you a nice reference. Well you know where you can STICK your reference? And as far as possible? Without lubrication? COULD I BE A LITTLE MORE BITTER!!!!!!!!!!!!! ???????

That's right, I got canned last week, and for no good reason. Apparently, after I was thrown into an office to take over for a co-worker on maternity leave, I was expected to JUST DO IT. Like Tiger Woods. Like NIKE. Like a pro. Like I really KNEW what I was doing. Like I'd actually been TRAINED for more than a couple hours. Like I could literally do that job just as well as someone who had been there for 8 FRICKIN' YEARS....even though I'd only been in my NEWLY HIRED position less than 90 days. DUH. Well, there you go....some people are just idiots. Stupid, moronic, dumbass, dickwad, inbred idiots. Hmmm, let's see....I'll hire you as a temp in March, BEG you to stay on permanently in May....give you some inadequate training, and then hope you'll succeed in all matters of business, sales, and customer service in a job in which you have absolutely no clue how to start. All righty then. You betcha. No problem. But here's the rub. Once you've held this position for 4 months or so, busting your butt, clocking in on Saturdays, slaving away through the noon hour, and taking paperwork home to do on the weekends....................we're going to can you. That's right, we're "letting you go". Gee, thanks for all your hard work, we appreciate your toils and trouble, and all the times you stayed until 6:30. Unfortunately, it just wasn't enough. You were "unhappy" and "stressed" in this position...people found you "unapproachable".....like they should walk on "eggshells". I don't know what they mean......ME? Freaked out? Aggravated? Pushed to the limit? ON THE EDGY VERGE OF A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN? Ya think!?

Interesting. Even though I was promised help from the inside salespeople, and that I would always have "someone" there to assist me.....hmmm, it's perplexing. When most of the time, one of the two inhouse sales grunts was gone traveling, or out sick, or (could it be?) playing golf. Or maybe it was the fact that ONE LOUSY computer in the office had ALL the essential data for 47 different applications. And that one pathetically overworked, underpaid operator of this computer solely new how to perform all these tasks. It's kind of hard to garner "help" from those who are not THERE, and do not have a CLUE how to operate their very own slow-as-grass-growing inhouse system. Hey, you WORK here......it might be helpful to know how to do these trivial things on your own, in the unlikely event the aforementioned operator is hit by a MACK TRUCK on the way to work. How DO you people function? Do your wives pick out your socks? Does your labrador find that extra tie? Do you actually KNOW how to grind coffee? In any event, life moves on and we must learn to adjust. And to what? To people who don't appreciate hard work? To men who's underlings despise them? To being taken advantage of? NO. We must adjust to the reality that we can and WILL survive, and all the lectures about women shattering that eternal glass ceiling are bullshit. The only crap we need to remember is that we are better, quicker, stronger, faster, and intellectually superior to anyone who uses a razor on their face. Now break open that gate, and toss me a red cape.....I'm ready to take the bull by the horns.

Posted by Wendy at 7:56 PM | Comments (0)