Wednesday, November 23, 2005

there's something about karma

...or new heads on the block

Let’s talk turkey…and I don’t mean in the American Thanksgiving form of the bird.
I would however like to wish my friends in the lower 48 a happy day of overindulgence, Xmas shopping and football…because that was what the pilgrims had in mind.
I am not judging!
I think I got drunk and had wild sex to celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving…though because I was drunk, perhaps I only imagined the sexploits.
Either way I did not consume bird…though I do have that fantasy too.

This is my last week of work at the sweat shop. It’s been below freezing here for several days now, so there isn’t a lot of sweating going on, but a shiver shop would likely not have quite the same connotation for painful employment.
I had every intention of spending this week doing fuck all. The bitches can’t exactly fire me. Unfortunately I have been charged with the training of the wife of boss number two.

The cliché says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but the truth is you can’t teach an old trick my job. I have no idea what that means. I may or may not be drunk.
The woman is a bout as sharp as a grape…and about as whiney…winey?...too.

Let’s call her Mary. This is not her real name; I am not protecting her identity. I am protecting myself from a slander suit…which coincidentally looks much like a zoot suit, but without those mutinous wide lapels. There is no riot like a zoot suit riot. I have no fucking idea what a zoot suit even is, but I wanted to work the letter “z” into this post five times.
The letter is seriously underused.
Ask not why…ask why not!

Mary is like a hummingbird on acid.
She’s nice enough, even kind of funny…as in to laugh with, not at…though both certainly apply. I like her, we get along pretty well and have had more than a few good chats and giggles this week…usually at the expense of others…which further endears her to me.
She just can’t sit still. She is always moving, if not her body then her hands or feet. When she is forced to stop for a moment her face begins to involuntarily twitch and contort.
It is freakish.

She has the patience and retention of an incontinent gnat. Mary has difficulty with the alphabet, filing causes naught but confusion. She has no concept of cash, change or numbers at all. She cashed out last night, she put the money in the box and into the safe, and this morning she took the box out of the safe. No hands touched it in the meantime. She counted the float as she put it into the till to find it was forty dollars short. Mary was convinced someone had messed with it…just to fuck with her.
I might have had I thought about it, but alas was not feeling particularly malicious this morning. We decided an error was made in petty cash and replaced the missing money from there. Tonight when she cashed out, the till was over by the same amount.
She is certain there is a conspiracy. She blames her husband.
I blame the fact that she can’t add in her head or use a calculator…I would buy her an abacus, but I fear even that would be beyond her…she prefers to count on her fingers.


I am like the queen of slackers; I could write a book about slacking. In fact I think at Modblog over the past two years I pretty much have. I keep saying I would love nothing more than to be paid to write, and the truth is I just quit a job that allowed me enough spare time and internet usage that I indeed was being paid while I blogged.
What kind of fucking moron quits that kind of job? Me.

I shake my head.

That made me dizzy.

Ok, once more…wheeeeee.

I really am not drunk…it’s just been a long anxiety filled week. If I had started the new job immediately upon accepting it I would be fine, this in between time has given me…not second thoughts so much as full blown raging panic attacks.
I am leaving behind a job that I, even when slacking, excel at. A position that some days is incredibly busy and stressful while many more are leisurely hours of reading, writing and internet. I am heading into the great unknown, the world of publishing, Macs and graphic design...and for the same money to boot!
Did I take this job just for the title?

“Hi, my name is ben, I am a graphic designer.”

This week training Mary the vunder-blonde has made me even more afraid.
Karma is a bitch, and she is knocking on my door.

Monday I become Mary.

I will be the one getting my nose rubbed in my pee when I make a mistake. I will be the one the other kids are laughing at when I do or say something stupid. I will be the one causing frustration and the urge to chug a bottle of Jack when they can’t get something through my thick skull. I will be the one causing my trainer to post a blog about what an idiot I am…”The dim-witted bitch thinks a ‘page break’ means she can go get a cup of coffee and a snack!”

I have earned every ounce of scorn and contempt my new co-workers will bestow on me.
I will own every snicker and guffaw made at my expense, and I will happily bear whatever sarcasm and mockery they send my way.
Still I move on with excitement and hope.
I will hold my head high, confident in the knowledge that soon enough someone greener than me will be hired and I will return to my rightful role of supremacist and scorner.
I hope.

This post really had nothing to do with turkey after all.
I don’t eat the foul fowl, but I do like chicken, and I love the occasional goose.
W00t!
Happy TG day land o’ Bush…and not the good kind.
Celebrate hearty and wear a fez!
Yes, five times!!

ben

5 Comments:

At 11:19 p.m., Blogger Good Hands said...

Thanks Ben for wishing us too much of a good thing. Well, I'm in the land of Bush and DeLay and others I care not to mention at the moment but at least we have Molly Ivins keeping us informed and I have seen our former Texas governor Ann Richards shopping at the local grocery story (otherwise I think she only appears in superbowl commercials). And, I think Cindy Sheehan is planning to be in the neighborhood soon.

From one who has moved from job to job over and over again, I know a few things about transitioning into a new situation. Just be patient, breathe deeply and know that after three weeks, everything will be less stressful. Seems that the first three weeks are an adjustment period. Have fun and good luck in your new gig. I'm kinda jealous. I would love to have an employer pay my way to a graphics design position. I can't wait to hear about all the new things you will be learning.

 
At 11:45 p.m., Blogger ben said...

Thanks Cyn, I really am ready to go...as long as I don't stop and think too much about it.
:)

 
At 9:33 a.m., Blogger Libertine said...

I'm insanely jealous of both your new and old jobs.

I've never had a job where I could work with my strengths, instead of constantly fighting my weaknesses, and having to talk myself into showing up each and every day.

I've had "job jobs", where it sounds like you'll have a "career job.

Sounds like Mary has Adult ADD

 
At 9:54 a.m., Anonymous DooohHead said...

I like wearing a Fezz too. Notice Ben I used two Z's, like in the word Fuzz. Its probabley not correct, but a fezz is awefully similar to a fuzz, and if its good enough for a fuzz then it has to be good enough for a fezz.
I'm not drunk either!

 
At 4:14 p.m., Anonymous Anonymous said...

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