long time, no see
Believe it or not (don't, I'm kinda lying here), I've been busy! Okay (the kinda lying part), meaning that I've had a few appointments and such over the last week. The rest of the time I've spent doing the same stupid shit I do every other day.
There is the usual no-job drama....
no paychecks = no money for bills = this exchange every day (on the days that I actually pick up):
Them: Hi
Me: Hello
Them: Hi, can I speak with giant fucking failure Lauren ____?
Me: May I ask who's calling?
Them: ____ Bank
Me: I'm sorry, she's not available.
*click*
I like how obvious it is that I'm the person that they want to speak with - once I ascertain that the person on the other end of the line is One Of Them, Lauren ____ is no longer available to speak. Whaddya wanna do about it, huh!?
And then there is a situation with a staffing agency that doesn't seem all that interested in finding me work. They tease me with jobs, even have me spend a day and a half doing a "working interview" during which no one actually pays any attention to my "performance," so I'm not really sure how they made that decision. Oh wait, old-dried-up-cunt #1 did mention to me no less than three times on that first day that the agency owner is "old school" ("do you know that that means?") and that it would be to my benefit to do my hair and makeup. Apparently I looked as though I'd spent the previous night in the rain in a wheelbarrow on the street.
"I'm sorry, but as it is apparent that you don't own a giant stained floral bag of various crumbling Maybelline powders and dried out mascaras, much less a curling iron and bottle of Aquanet (oh horror of horrors), I don't believe that we can offer you the position."
I guarantee you that at least one of those women owns a bag just like the one I described. The odds are in my favor, in an office like that with eight crusty middle-aged midwestern women. Oh and they were ALL women.
Anyway, the situation is not yet satisfactorily resolved (meaning I still need a job and this agency is my last hope in this worthless piece of shit town), so I'm gonna wait and see how that one plays out before I write it up. You mean there's more?!? And how! It's a doozy.
Meanwhile, Oberst, you nearly done here, buddy? I'm ready to watch Peretti's YouTube linkage.
I'm pretty sure my ears are about to get ass-raped.
Not that I'm entirely against that. Getting boned in the ear makes me as damp as a cellar down there... alll mildewy.
Surely there is a technical term for "ear sex", but alas, I google and all I get is stuff about music. Though that application for the phrase is pretty spiffy too. Won't get me off, but Electric Six's sweet grooves get me so so close.
There is the usual no-job drama....
no paychecks = no money for bills = this exchange every day (on the days that I actually pick up):
Them: Hi
Me: Hello
Them: Hi, can I speak with giant fucking failure Lauren ____?
Me: May I ask who's calling?
Them: ____ Bank
Me: I'm sorry, she's not available.
*click*
I like how obvious it is that I'm the person that they want to speak with - once I ascertain that the person on the other end of the line is One Of Them, Lauren ____ is no longer available to speak. Whaddya wanna do about it, huh!?
And then there is a situation with a staffing agency that doesn't seem all that interested in finding me work. They tease me with jobs, even have me spend a day and a half doing a "working interview" during which no one actually pays any attention to my "performance," so I'm not really sure how they made that decision. Oh wait, old-dried-up-cunt #1 did mention to me no less than three times on that first day that the agency owner is "old school" ("do you know that that means?") and that it would be to my benefit to do my hair and makeup. Apparently I looked as though I'd spent the previous night in the rain in a wheelbarrow on the street.
"I'm sorry, but as it is apparent that you don't own a giant stained floral bag of various crumbling Maybelline powders and dried out mascaras, much less a curling iron and bottle of Aquanet (oh horror of horrors), I don't believe that we can offer you the position."
I guarantee you that at least one of those women owns a bag just like the one I described. The odds are in my favor, in an office like that with eight crusty middle-aged midwestern women. Oh and they were ALL women.
Anyway, the situation is not yet satisfactorily resolved (meaning I still need a job and this agency is my last hope in this worthless piece of shit town), so I'm gonna wait and see how that one plays out before I write it up. You mean there's more?!? And how! It's a doozy.
Meanwhile, Oberst, you nearly done here, buddy? I'm ready to watch Peretti's YouTube linkage.
I'm pretty sure my ears are about to get ass-raped.
Not that I'm entirely against that. Getting boned in the ear makes me as damp as a cellar down there... alll mildewy.
Surely there is a technical term for "ear sex", but alas, I google and all I get is stuff about music. Though that application for the phrase is pretty spiffy too. Won't get me off, but Electric Six's sweet grooves get me so so close.
posted by lauren at 1:43 AM
2 Comments:
Gosh that's terrible. Do you live in Alabama?
Perhaps you should just suck it up, buy a nice curly wig and soak your face in pink Kool-Aid every night. Also, make sure you bring no less than 2 aprons with you wherever you go, just in case any "old school" men forgot to ask their hooker to fix 'em lunch before they left for work.
What you need to do is scheme. 2 hours of straight scheming every day. Do it. Scheme your way to success!
worse... oklahoma.
can't believe i just admitted to that.
brilliant advice. i am a master schemer, may be time to dig deep into my dark velvet bag of schemery.
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