I don't know how hard it is to pronounce "Dan." It doesn't even sound like "Dave" or "David," for that matter. I am not the type of person to stutter or mumble; I feel that I speak clearly and enunciate enough so people know what I'm saying. But still, this "Dave" nonsense has been following me around like a bad groupie (not like the ones Bret Michaels gets on "Rock of Love"). I really have to correct these people before it becomes permanent. I know how some people look like a certain name, but I really don't think I look like a Dave. Maybe more like a Brian or something. And what kills me the most is that I told these people what my name was. A woman even wrote it down and said it out loud, audibly. But when I checked something online, she had wrote in my name in the status line as "David." Ugh. I may start calling these people the wrong name too. Like I said, this job has something new everyday. Like seeing a co-worker in front of me, a miserable man who should have retired years ago but enjoys basking in his misery and bringing everyone else in it, doing stretches at his desk and side bends. All he needed were the leg warmers and the headband.
I have to digress (like I do in all my posts, while seem to digress from relevance daily) and mention bathrooms. All offices are different; but the bathrooms in this place are where legends are born. In the women's room, you have old women spending an unhealthy amount of time at the mirror, fixing a face that said bye-bye to them years ago, while others use the stall and seemingly soundproof it, or go when they hear a noise, similar to Tim Robbins banging the pipe in "Shawshank" when the thunder hit. This woman is the epitome of shy. I mean there's shy, and then there's this woman. Granted, she's over 40, but she acts like a child clutching her mother's leg in public and hiding behind it. She must have been put on display a lot when she was young, because this woman hates to bring any attention to herself whatsoever. She'll hide behind people in photos, walk hunched over and quickly dash through hallways, or stay at her desk hidden behind a stack of papers. It actually comes off as a bit rude. I understand if you don't like to make your presence felt, but this bordered on psychotic. The bathroom thing makes me the most perplexed; it's the only place you have privacy, and you're still freaked out? She also happens to be a huge germophobe, so I wouldn't doubt it if she covers the entire place in toiletpaper or sanitizer and doesn't even sit on the seat. She also happens to wear white and/or plastic gloves around the office. Yes, she is the 2008 version of Howard Hughes. If I see a mysterious jar of something on her desk, I'm calling the health department.
The men's room is even better. You'd think people would be old enough now to treat the bathroom like they treat their houses. Well apparently these people lived like Axl Rose, because this bathroom was filthy. People not flushing after doing their business, clogging the toilet, going all over the urinal like they're watering a lawn. It's disgusting. I walk in there, and the place is seemingly always wet. The floor, the walls, the handles. I don't know why there's so much moisture but it's like walking into a damn bathhouse, minus the naked men in towels (which I wouldn't doubt happening soon). I dread touching anything in there for fear of getting the flesh eating virus. And people's habits in there are so weird too. You have the guy who talks to you while you go, or looks over at you mid-stream. The guy who touches you while you go on the shoulder like you're in a "Hands Across America" singalong. The others think their member is a garden hose and let it spray everywhere (thank God for those walls in between). Overall, I hate having to use the bathroom, especially if I have to drop the Cosby kids off at the pool (take a guess what that means). Now one of the doors is broken, so when you go, it likes to pop open at inopportune times. I have to either start using another bathroom or just holding it. While constipation is never cool, it's gotta be better than that shithole (pun fully intended).
It's the End of the World As We Know It: My boss coming over to my desk, exclaiming "I'm being nosy," touching my peanut butter snack cakes, and inquiring as to what they tasted like, etc. At least she was honest.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
It's Hotter'en Hell Out There...
Friggin' global warming. It was like a sauna out there today. And add in the rain, and you have a pretty brutal day altogether. The good part is my boss is out of the office today and tomorrow, so I'm essentially on my own, which is beautiful. Her stand-in really could care less what I do. He's more content to argue politics with this other guy, a diehard Liberal (you can guess what the other guy is). Occassionally it can border on the insane, as it gets pretty heated, and in a work environment, it's probably not the best thing to do. But they're lifers, and at this point, who cares. It's just a lot of static for everyone else. I almost feel like it's an episode of "Hardball": a lot of screaming and very little sense is made of anything.
It's always interesting to have lunch with other co-workers. Not only does it give you a chance to catch up with them outside of work, but it also gives you insight into more gossip. And everyone knows how gossip makes the office go round. Today I found out some interesting tidbits: how a few of my co-workers don't have college degrees and can never advance in their position within the company, and...well the rest doesn't really matter. This lack of college experience explains a lot: that's why some of these people have the social skills of a child and the common sense of a toddler. This job never ceases to amaze me.
The good part of this lunch was that I got to connect with a female co-worker; though she threw me a curveball by inviting two other people (one didn't show up, the other seems to not be a threat, as he may lack interest in women), the dialogue between the two of us went extremely well. Safe to say, some of the telltale signs were there, and here's hoping she's not married.
It's the End of the World as We Know It: Seeing a co-worker, who's leaving in a few weeks for another position within the company, almost going apeshit over a copier machine. His slow burn is classic, and hilarious to watch. He almost had his Michael Bolton copier machine moment. If only it had read "PC Load Letter." Or maybe it's better it didn't.
It's always interesting to have lunch with other co-workers. Not only does it give you a chance to catch up with them outside of work, but it also gives you insight into more gossip. And everyone knows how gossip makes the office go round. Today I found out some interesting tidbits: how a few of my co-workers don't have college degrees and can never advance in their position within the company, and...well the rest doesn't really matter. This lack of college experience explains a lot: that's why some of these people have the social skills of a child and the common sense of a toddler. This job never ceases to amaze me.
The good part of this lunch was that I got to connect with a female co-worker; though she threw me a curveball by inviting two other people (one didn't show up, the other seems to not be a threat, as he may lack interest in women), the dialogue between the two of us went extremely well. Safe to say, some of the telltale signs were there, and here's hoping she's not married.
It's the End of the World as We Know It: Seeing a co-worker, who's leaving in a few weeks for another position within the company, almost going apeshit over a copier machine. His slow burn is classic, and hilarious to watch. He almost had his Michael Bolton copier machine moment. If only it had read "PC Load Letter." Or maybe it's better it didn't.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Ticker Tape Parades, Near Death Experiences, and Letdowns...
Sometimes working downtown has its perks. Sure, after 5 the place clears out faster than a Cloverfield monster sighting, but sometimes it works out. Like today. In case you haven't heard, the New York Giants captured the Super Bowl on Sunday over the New England Patriots (as a big sports buff, I could analyze the hell out of the game: Belichick's decision to not go for a field goal on 4th and 13, the emergence of Justin Tuck as a legitimate beast on defense, etc) but I'll save that for the other guys. This is about my life, which is clearly more important. Anyway, today was the parade for the G-Men, and lo and behold, it was starting at 11am near Battery Park, mere minutes from my office. To help matters, I also had a great vantage point from the window near my desk; so I could watch the parade and not be cramped or feel like someone was either grabbing my ass or pickpocketing me. I was content with that. But then after thinking about it, I realized, I had to watch it from the ground, no matter how far I was. Ticker tape parades are few and far between; the last one was for the Evil Empire (The Yankees) in 2000, and there had never been a football parade. The last time the Giants won, I believe in 1990, they didn't have a parade in NYC because former mayor Ed "I hope people forget I was the judge on The People's Court for a period of time" Koch didn't want a non-tax paying entity in "his" city. I think the Giants ended up on a flat bed truck somewhere near Route 3 near the Meadowlands, near the Tick Tock Diner and the Secaucus transfer point for NJ Transit. So this truly was something that hadn't happened in awhile, and may never happen again. And being so close to the actual parade route, it was a no-brainer. I saddled up my camera, and about 10:33am, about four co-workers and I braved the elements and went outside to catch a glimpse (I say "brave the elements" because we all didn't wear jackets; I thought it was supposed to be warmer yet I still shivered; another guy just had chronic armpit sweating issues).
However, our view was obstructed by overly excited Giant fans and a plethora of New York's finest. Seeing nothing in sight (except the buses the players were on, I assume, and an unbelievable amount of attractive women), we went back upstairs, heads down, disappointed. "I really planned on doing no work today," I thought to myself, even though that was most of the days.
While sitting back in my cell, I mean cube, a co-worker came back and said, "We have to go back." I wasn't sure we'd make any progress, but since I wanted any excuse to ditch what I was doing, I obliged, this time making sure to grab my coat.
We trudged downstairs and went out the back entrance, hoping to beat some of the rush. A co-worker warned us we wouldn't see anything, we paid him no mind. We had to at least try. So we went up Wall Street, only to be blocked by more of the po-po on each side street. But then, a break. We found a side street not blocked off. So we and about 500 other people crammed into what amounted into no more than an alley to try to get a glimpse of the promenade. Unfortunately, space and good viewing were in high demand, so we appeared to be out of luck. My co-worker stands about 6'3, so standing on his tippy toes, he was able to get a decent look. Me, being in this case a short 5'9, saw nothing but the back of heads. I was about to go out when an idea struck my co-worker. To my left, where other kids were standing (or rather balancing), there stood a ledge, maybe about 2 inches off the wall and about 3 feet long. "You should go up there," my co-worker exclaimed, not figuring I was chancing certain death. Keep in mind the ledge was probably about 10 feet off the ground, so a spill off that wouldn't likely kill me, but definitely would do some damage. I hesitated, wondering if it was all worth it. But, continuing my "once in a lifetime" thinking, I willingly took a boost from him and jumped up there. Now, the view was exceptional. I was able to see a good amount of the players, and snapped a solid 30+ pics, all while holding onto the ledge with one hand and the other holding my camera. I don't know what I was more worried about; falling or breaking my camera (it was a gift after all). Somehow I kept my balance until I couldn't feel my feet or hands. It was bedlam by me. People everywhere, people climbing onto sanitation trucks, ledges, standing on shoulders. I think voter groups would love to see this type of turnout for the primaries, but I severely doubt it. I have to say though, while it was a trying experience, I'll certainly never forget it, and am glad I did it. Just next time, I'll be getting there early, bringing stilts, and a camera with a better zoom.
In other news, the streak continues with bad news for other job opportunities. I hadn't invested a lot in this one, even though it sounded promising. The editor got back to me saying progress had been made, but they needed the dreaded "more time." I'm to get back to her in another month. Sigh. I should have expected it. I guess that's why I don't get too worked up over these things anymore; I always get let down. And while it's not a definite no-go, it might as well be. Another month. I just keep telling myself, "Just get yourself through another day. Another week. Another month." But I didn't think I'd still be telling myself this, almost eight months later. A co-worker, who is also as despondent over this job situation as I am, ran down the cons of working there, as there were really no pros. Basically, it came down to us feeling like we weren't doing anything for "the greater good." We weren't using our full college degree talents towards anything. And we just weren't going to put out a complete effort for such a meaningless place. I guess that's what it all comes down to. Are you willing to give all of yourself to something you don't care about? I've realized for this place, no. Thankfully I had the parade to take up most of the day. I wish they came around everyday.
It's the End of the World as We Know It: Standing on a ledge to get a glimpse of a bunch of football players I couldn't pick out of a police lineup. A close second: being at the urinal in the bathroom and saying, "I need to wash this crap off my hands." Another person at an adjoining stall replying, "Whoa, you don't use toilet paper?"
However, our view was obstructed by overly excited Giant fans and a plethora of New York's finest. Seeing nothing in sight (except the buses the players were on, I assume, and an unbelievable amount of attractive women), we went back upstairs, heads down, disappointed. "I really planned on doing no work today," I thought to myself, even though that was most of the days.
While sitting back in my cell, I mean cube, a co-worker came back and said, "We have to go back." I wasn't sure we'd make any progress, but since I wanted any excuse to ditch what I was doing, I obliged, this time making sure to grab my coat.
We trudged downstairs and went out the back entrance, hoping to beat some of the rush. A co-worker warned us we wouldn't see anything, we paid him no mind. We had to at least try. So we went up Wall Street, only to be blocked by more of the po-po on each side street. But then, a break. We found a side street not blocked off. So we and about 500 other people crammed into what amounted into no more than an alley to try to get a glimpse of the promenade. Unfortunately, space and good viewing were in high demand, so we appeared to be out of luck. My co-worker stands about 6'3, so standing on his tippy toes, he was able to get a decent look. Me, being in this case a short 5'9, saw nothing but the back of heads. I was about to go out when an idea struck my co-worker. To my left, where other kids were standing (or rather balancing), there stood a ledge, maybe about 2 inches off the wall and about 3 feet long. "You should go up there," my co-worker exclaimed, not figuring I was chancing certain death. Keep in mind the ledge was probably about 10 feet off the ground, so a spill off that wouldn't likely kill me, but definitely would do some damage. I hesitated, wondering if it was all worth it. But, continuing my "once in a lifetime" thinking, I willingly took a boost from him and jumped up there. Now, the view was exceptional. I was able to see a good amount of the players, and snapped a solid 30+ pics, all while holding onto the ledge with one hand and the other holding my camera. I don't know what I was more worried about; falling or breaking my camera (it was a gift after all). Somehow I kept my balance until I couldn't feel my feet or hands. It was bedlam by me. People everywhere, people climbing onto sanitation trucks, ledges, standing on shoulders. I think voter groups would love to see this type of turnout for the primaries, but I severely doubt it. I have to say though, while it was a trying experience, I'll certainly never forget it, and am glad I did it. Just next time, I'll be getting there early, bringing stilts, and a camera with a better zoom.
In other news, the streak continues with bad news for other job opportunities. I hadn't invested a lot in this one, even though it sounded promising. The editor got back to me saying progress had been made, but they needed the dreaded "more time." I'm to get back to her in another month. Sigh. I should have expected it. I guess that's why I don't get too worked up over these things anymore; I always get let down. And while it's not a definite no-go, it might as well be. Another month. I just keep telling myself, "Just get yourself through another day. Another week. Another month." But I didn't think I'd still be telling myself this, almost eight months later. A co-worker, who is also as despondent over this job situation as I am, ran down the cons of working there, as there were really no pros. Basically, it came down to us feeling like we weren't doing anything for "the greater good." We weren't using our full college degree talents towards anything. And we just weren't going to put out a complete effort for such a meaningless place. I guess that's what it all comes down to. Are you willing to give all of yourself to something you don't care about? I've realized for this place, no. Thankfully I had the parade to take up most of the day. I wish they came around everyday.
It's the End of the World as We Know It: Standing on a ledge to get a glimpse of a bunch of football players I couldn't pick out of a police lineup. A close second: being at the urinal in the bathroom and saying, "I need to wash this crap off my hands." Another person at an adjoining stall replying, "Whoa, you don't use toilet paper?"
Friday, February 1, 2008
It's the Small Wins that Get You By
Not a particularly interesting day today. But I did realize that the little things do get you by sometimes. As much as I don't like what I do, I still try to do it to the best of my abilities. Two projects I'd been working on since I started are almost coming to an end, something I never thought I'd say. I think it's too good to be true; something has to happen to make them not finish. It just wouldn't be me if it didn't. When my boss dropped one of the projects off, I almost jumped back in terror, fearing his wrath. He is well known to be a ballbreaker, and could find a question to ask in anything. But for some reason, he had none for me. I was amazed. Either my project was that good, or he didn't feel like waiting around for an answer. Either way, it was a pleasant surprise.
I attended a pizza party for a departing co-worker today. She was one of the good ones, even though she rocked 1980's pant suits with shoulder pads and sneakers. I think it wasn't so much she was going for the hair band rock look, it's just that she didn't care. She never went out of her way to be friendly, but when you got her to open up, she was really cool. A person who wouldn't bullshit you or treat you like an inferior. She kept to herself for the most part but occasionally you saw her real side. I liked her. She helped me out a lot and never disrespected me; two things that are hard to find in my line of work. Anyway, we went to this ridiculously expensive pizza "bar" where we sat on incredibly high and uncomfortable bar stools at a much lower table. I felt like I was on a high chair. The place is about the size of a Manhattan studio apartment and was incredibly overcrowded. Our group of 7 had to huddle around this tiny table like a bunch of homeless people around a barrel fire. I couldn't complain about the service though; it was quick and friendly, and the waitress was very attractive and had ample...personality. But what made things too awkward are the people I went with. For the most part they're all cool, besides the one guy who I think has a thing for me (which I find flattering, but sad...I get more attention from men than women) but there's this one woman who is just unbelievable. Annoying to no end, complaining about everything, and doing it all in the most annoying nazily voice possible. Similar to nails on a chalkboard, anything she said was automatically irritating. And she finds the weirdest things to make noise about. Like asking everyone if they wanted salad. When everyone replied no, she continued to badger everyone until two people gave in, I think just to shut her up. And she is always a big fan of sharing foods. Now, I don't mind if I'm on a date and it's a dessert (because every guy knows that's a great move to pull), but I really don't like sharing anything. If I ordered it, and paid some outrageous price, I am damn sure going to eat it. But no, this woman insists on sharing. I tried to tune her out though; I was fine with sitting back in the corner pseudo-flirting with another co-worker. I spent the latter part of the day running around getting things signed, so safe to say, a rather productive Friday, even though I lost the sixth item in the last 6 months: a brand-new stick of Blistex. I just bought it today too, had it for less than 5 hours and it was gone. For some reason I have a habit of taking things out of my pocket and examining them, as if they're a magic eight ball or something and will give me a look into the future. I did a similar thing with the Blistex, which worked fantastically by the way, and poof, it's gone. The only reason I bought more is because the last stuff I bought needed to be reapplied roughly every 2 minutes. I guess that's what I get for buying "Lip Infusion," which leaves your lips looking like Angelina Jolie's after you apply it. And the little rollerball tip was fun at first, but after that, it felt like a truck was running over your lips when you applied it, so I definitely wasted 3 bucks on that. I think it's a sign I cannot buy anything anymore. Period. I'll just lose it. And I never was like that before.
It's the End of the World as We Know It: Two things. Discussing with another co-worker if Time's Man of the Year, Vladimir Putin, took over our department. After it was mentioned, my co-worker immediately pointed out two people across from us and said, "They'd definitely be gone." One is a single overweight meatball-ish man who buys groceries at Duane Reade to stock the fridge, and nonchalantly breaks wind daily. He was last seen sprinting into the bathroom after laying two monster farts, and dropping his pants before entering a stall. The other has a heart of gold but probably has a heart the size of a rhinoceros. Severely overweight but always friendly, he's kind of like Grimace. But Putin would definitely pick them off like flies. I said he'd probably shoot them point blank to prove a point. Yes, I'm sick.
The other was a co-worker forwarding an e-mail to me about something that annoying woman said the other day. When asked to do something by my boss, she replied, "That's not on the top of my to do list of priorities today" or something to that extent. Everyone just kind of gave her the shrug sign, and dismissed it. But a co-worker sent an e-mail saying to use that phrase which will "most certainly impress senior management." The beauty of my job...and you wonder why I'm miserable.
I attended a pizza party for a departing co-worker today. She was one of the good ones, even though she rocked 1980's pant suits with shoulder pads and sneakers. I think it wasn't so much she was going for the hair band rock look, it's just that she didn't care. She never went out of her way to be friendly, but when you got her to open up, she was really cool. A person who wouldn't bullshit you or treat you like an inferior. She kept to herself for the most part but occasionally you saw her real side. I liked her. She helped me out a lot and never disrespected me; two things that are hard to find in my line of work. Anyway, we went to this ridiculously expensive pizza "bar" where we sat on incredibly high and uncomfortable bar stools at a much lower table. I felt like I was on a high chair. The place is about the size of a Manhattan studio apartment and was incredibly overcrowded. Our group of 7 had to huddle around this tiny table like a bunch of homeless people around a barrel fire. I couldn't complain about the service though; it was quick and friendly, and the waitress was very attractive and had ample...personality. But what made things too awkward are the people I went with. For the most part they're all cool, besides the one guy who I think has a thing for me (which I find flattering, but sad...I get more attention from men than women) but there's this one woman who is just unbelievable. Annoying to no end, complaining about everything, and doing it all in the most annoying nazily voice possible. Similar to nails on a chalkboard, anything she said was automatically irritating. And she finds the weirdest things to make noise about. Like asking everyone if they wanted salad. When everyone replied no, she continued to badger everyone until two people gave in, I think just to shut her up. And she is always a big fan of sharing foods. Now, I don't mind if I'm on a date and it's a dessert (because every guy knows that's a great move to pull), but I really don't like sharing anything. If I ordered it, and paid some outrageous price, I am damn sure going to eat it. But no, this woman insists on sharing. I tried to tune her out though; I was fine with sitting back in the corner pseudo-flirting with another co-worker. I spent the latter part of the day running around getting things signed, so safe to say, a rather productive Friday, even though I lost the sixth item in the last 6 months: a brand-new stick of Blistex. I just bought it today too, had it for less than 5 hours and it was gone. For some reason I have a habit of taking things out of my pocket and examining them, as if they're a magic eight ball or something and will give me a look into the future. I did a similar thing with the Blistex, which worked fantastically by the way, and poof, it's gone. The only reason I bought more is because the last stuff I bought needed to be reapplied roughly every 2 minutes. I guess that's what I get for buying "Lip Infusion," which leaves your lips looking like Angelina Jolie's after you apply it. And the little rollerball tip was fun at first, but after that, it felt like a truck was running over your lips when you applied it, so I definitely wasted 3 bucks on that. I think it's a sign I cannot buy anything anymore. Period. I'll just lose it. And I never was like that before.
It's the End of the World as We Know It: Two things. Discussing with another co-worker if Time's Man of the Year, Vladimir Putin, took over our department. After it was mentioned, my co-worker immediately pointed out two people across from us and said, "They'd definitely be gone." One is a single overweight meatball-ish man who buys groceries at Duane Reade to stock the fridge, and nonchalantly breaks wind daily. He was last seen sprinting into the bathroom after laying two monster farts, and dropping his pants before entering a stall. The other has a heart of gold but probably has a heart the size of a rhinoceros. Severely overweight but always friendly, he's kind of like Grimace. But Putin would definitely pick them off like flies. I said he'd probably shoot them point blank to prove a point. Yes, I'm sick.
The other was a co-worker forwarding an e-mail to me about something that annoying woman said the other day. When asked to do something by my boss, she replied, "That's not on the top of my to do list of priorities today" or something to that extent. Everyone just kind of gave her the shrug sign, and dismissed it. But a co-worker sent an e-mail saying to use that phrase which will "most certainly impress senior management." The beauty of my job...and you wonder why I'm miserable.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Sports References Always Work
I've created a new tagline for work. Sports references always work in the workplace ("Game on" when referring to starting your day, "Posting up" when referring to your estimated time of arrival), but I found the perfect phrase the other day. While sitting with a bunch of chaps (people don't use that word enough, so like sexy, I'm trying to bring it back) at Subway while we dined on our sandwiches (which we received at a unbeatable price---thank you Smart Shopper coupons), I came to the conclusion that work is like a football game. It can be a lot of games, but football works the best. You walk in, and the game has begun. You have until lunch to accomplish your tasks at hand and put points on the board, so to speak. While it's not imperative you score, it's best to always put out your best effort and not have to go into halftime (lunch) with a full to-do list left. You then go into halftime, knowing whether you're up or not. Halftime is crucial. It determines whether you can go back into the second half knowing if you can simply "take a knee," and just not do anything the rest of the day since you did so much before lunch, or if you have to play catch up. I try to always be up by halftime and cruise into leaving for the day. It doesn't always happen, but it's a fair goal to shoot for. After relating this message to my co-workers, they all got a big kick out of it, but realized how relevant it is. One co-worker told me it could have been the best one I'd come up with ever (even though I was responsible for coronating another co-worker as "Rampage"...even though he didn't like it at all). But think about how true it is. So in short, everyone should shoot for taking a knee after lunch. That way you'll still have the energy (maybe) to forge ahead for another game (also called Tuesday).
I'm traveling to the Great White North the end of the month for a site visit. I'm kind of excited but it's only for a night, so I plan to make the most of that night. I hope the people I'm traveling with aren't going to act like my parents and enforce a curfew, or worse, we're all in the same room. I definitely don't need bunkmates. I dealt with that for four years of college. During the day I'll be tied up but after that, I'm free. I hear Montreal has a great nightlife, so hopefully I'll be able to enjoy it.
I sometimes think leaving that job will be bad. Our staff is grossly understaffed and losing another person would be bad for morale. But then I think, I really don't care if I do. I'll give them the professional courtesy and leave after two weeks, but I don't think I owe them more than that. I guess a part of me thinks since this was my first job, I owe it to them to stay. My parents seem to think I should stick it out, even if they don't say that directly. I know it has excellent job security, good potential for advancement, etc. But I swear, if I'm still there by the summer, please take me out back and beat me with a switch. I refuse to stay in a place just because it's safe and secure. That's the attitude of a lot of people there, and I'll be damned if I add to the list. I've applied to other positions and been let down each time. I've learned not to invest too much energy into anything; you'll just be let down. It's a bad mindset, but that way, you're never let down. So now I have this opportunity on the table. Not really even on the table; let's just say it's in the air. I have to make another phone call to the contact tomorrow or over the weekend. It involves writing, which is beautiful to me, but what it really involves is getting out of where I am now. Though if it was a paycut and worse hours, that'd be bad. As much as I despise what I do, getting out at 3:30 is pretty sweet. It leaves me so much time to...waste money at Starbucks while my friends finish their days, or work out...yeah, that's about it. That's what my life has come down to folks. Starbucks and free weights. You can bet how exciting my weekends are.
Kind of a rambling, incoherent post as always, but I never said this blog would be good or even make sense. The important part is, I've gotten it off my chest and out of my head, so maybe it'll help me to sleep throughout the night and not wake up before my alarm goes off. Wishful thinking I guess.
It's the End of the World as We Know It: Being called "David" for about the fourth time since I started working there. While my name is close to that, it isn't that. But for some reason, that's what I'm being called. Even when my name is written down on the paper in front of them. Or on the e-mail I send. I'm gonna start calling people another name and see how they feel. It reminds me of this classic "Scrubs" exchange:
I'm traveling to the Great White North the end of the month for a site visit. I'm kind of excited but it's only for a night, so I plan to make the most of that night. I hope the people I'm traveling with aren't going to act like my parents and enforce a curfew, or worse, we're all in the same room. I definitely don't need bunkmates. I dealt with that for four years of college. During the day I'll be tied up but after that, I'm free. I hear Montreal has a great nightlife, so hopefully I'll be able to enjoy it.
I sometimes think leaving that job will be bad. Our staff is grossly understaffed and losing another person would be bad for morale. But then I think, I really don't care if I do. I'll give them the professional courtesy and leave after two weeks, but I don't think I owe them more than that. I guess a part of me thinks since this was my first job, I owe it to them to stay. My parents seem to think I should stick it out, even if they don't say that directly. I know it has excellent job security, good potential for advancement, etc. But I swear, if I'm still there by the summer, please take me out back and beat me with a switch. I refuse to stay in a place just because it's safe and secure. That's the attitude of a lot of people there, and I'll be damned if I add to the list. I've applied to other positions and been let down each time. I've learned not to invest too much energy into anything; you'll just be let down. It's a bad mindset, but that way, you're never let down. So now I have this opportunity on the table. Not really even on the table; let's just say it's in the air. I have to make another phone call to the contact tomorrow or over the weekend. It involves writing, which is beautiful to me, but what it really involves is getting out of where I am now. Though if it was a paycut and worse hours, that'd be bad. As much as I despise what I do, getting out at 3:30 is pretty sweet. It leaves me so much time to...waste money at Starbucks while my friends finish their days, or work out...yeah, that's about it. That's what my life has come down to folks. Starbucks and free weights. You can bet how exciting my weekends are.
Kind of a rambling, incoherent post as always, but I never said this blog would be good or even make sense. The important part is, I've gotten it off my chest and out of my head, so maybe it'll help me to sleep throughout the night and not wake up before my alarm goes off. Wishful thinking I guess.
It's the End of the World as We Know It: Being called "David" for about the fourth time since I started working there. While my name is close to that, it isn't that. But for some reason, that's what I'm being called. Even when my name is written down on the paper in front of them. Or on the e-mail I send. I'm gonna start calling people another name and see how they feel. It reminds me of this classic "Scrubs" exchange:
Dr. Kelso: [impressed] Well, excellent catch Dr..... uh... Dr.... uhm....
J.D.'s Thoughts: Dorian. You see me every day. Say my name; say it!
Dr. Kelso: [looking in the chart J.D. had given him] ....Martinez.
J.D.: That was the name of the patient, sir.
Dr. Kelso: [looking again] ...Avery.
J.D.: No, actually, that's the--that's the manufacturer of the clipboard...sir.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Life is Full of Surprises...
Sometimes my faith in humanity is restored. Now granted, I don't really believe in faith or karma. I think things just happen; there's no reason behind anything. I guess these beliefs were shaped in me after reading Nietzsche in college. I just don't think there's an afterlife, or a God for that matter. But then there will be times where I'm pleasantly surprised with things.
I lost my bus pass last Friday. I have this routine set up where I get my pass out, show the kindly driver, and then put it back in my messenger bag and grab a seat (usually at the back because lately my bus is now averaging 40+ passengers a day). The routine is something I don't think twice about. But on Friday, I guess the planets weren't aligned or the fat lady sung, because as I got off the bus at that ridiculous hour to head into work (I get a 6:10 into New York to be at work by 7:30. I'm always early though), I went into my bag to grab my pass, and lo and behold, no pass. I went into panic mode instantly. I frantically searched the ground while what felt like thousands of people trampled over me like Simba in "The Lion King." I thought, "Maybe it's still on the bus. Surely it couldn't have gotten far." So I asked the nice driver if I could check and immediately I tried to scour where I sat, searching for this ridiculous piece of laminated paper. Now looking back, I should have just stayed on the bus and looked for it, and let the driver tell me time was up. I was worried about being late; the whole thing is, there was roughly about $200 in passes (one month) in that ID holder, so I really wanted it back. After looking for about two minutes, I went to the subway, dejected, but mostly annoyed and angry. I went into work in a bad mood, more so than I usually do.
Then began my hectic Friday of running back and forth, trying to secure a new pass. My job didn't make things easy. The kind receptionist who spoke little to no English informed me I could get a replacement one the same day, but it required me to go back and forth between their office and my own, eventually having to get a statement notarized saying I wasn't lying about losing it. Yes, notarized. They may as well have asked me to put my hand on the Bible.
After I took care of that, and proceeded to take one of the worst ID pictures ever (blurry, eyes half closed, crooked head) I went to see about the NJ Transit situation. I hoofed it to the Port Authority and went to the Customer Service window. I was met by a guy behind what looked like bulletproof glass, probably because he knew people don't come here in the best of moods, and attempt to attack him. He informed me I couldn't be issued another pass because they weren't "responsible" for it. Even though I'd be paying for more passes in the future, it was no dice. Dejected, I went to the NYPD to see if I could file a police report. Now I wanted to file a report saying my pass was stolen, but unfortunately there were too many "variables" as the officer said to make that decision. He was right. I had already pseudo frauded my company by telling them it was stolen; that way if it happened again (which I will make sure it doesn't) it would be the "first" time I lost it, not the second. Sneaky? Yes. But, it took me coming to my job to learn these tricks of the trade. Anyway, Officer Caruso (like the "singer" he said, though I was unsure of any singer by that last name) was nice about it, and offered to write me a report for a lost pass anyway. I obliged, mainly because I was there anyway. I brought this story back to NJT, who denied me again. Frustrated, I went back, knowing I wasted an entire day just to straighten this out.
I had already accepted the fact I'd have to buy another pass. I had contacted NJT's lost claims department and essentially put out an APB at the PANY also. I wasn't too sure it'd ever show up; there was a full February pass in there, the equivalent to finding free money for commuters. I pleaded my case to a NJT rep. I'd dealt with before, figuring it wouldn't hurt to ask. I had been a valued customer for all of 4 months. He later wrote me back saying he forwarded my inquiry to the bus ticketing supervisor. Finally, a break. Long story short, due to my honesty in saying it was lost, they granted me a "once in a lifetime" refund for the pass. These refunds are usually reserved for passes that weren't mailed, theft, or bribery (well, maybe not the last one, but I never asked). While I still will be paying the money anyway, it won't have to be bought twice. So sometimes people and things can surprise you. While it may not make me a believer, it was enough to restore some faith in humanity. It was like the time I lost my wallet in K-Mart, when I was buying really expensive Christmas gifts (isn't knock off gold and Thom McCann shoes considered "classy"?) and dropped my wallet. I had a decent amount of money in there, at least for a 12 year old, and it was a decent wallet, something I obtained through my parents' Marlboro cigarettes (see kids, it does pay to harm your body! You too can get free stuff like me through these point systems). While I went home, saddened in knowing my family and friends would likely be shut out of bath towels this Christmas, I received a phone call from a stranger. "Is this Daniel?" He asked. "Yes," I replied, not knowing if this was Ed McMahon or a bad man from "To Catch a Predator." "I found your wallet. You can come pick it up." I couldn't believe it. I had no identification in it, besides some type of membership to National Geographic Magazine. I later found out this guy had searched the entire phone book of my last name, calling each name until he found the right one. Unbelievable. I picked it up and asked him if he wanted the money, since everything was still in there. He didn't accept it. I remember sending him a Christmas card the next year, thanking him again for his unreal honesty. I'm reminded of him when I think about this past Friday. Maybe that's why I thought something good could happen; after experiencing that incredible show of kindness, anything's possible, I guess. It just gives you enough hope that maybe we can survive as a people. But then I see these talentless hacks on TV, exposing their naughty bits and acting every bit as "Hollywood" as they shouldn't be, and I realize...our kids are in for some real shit soon.
New addition: a random site/observation I'll dub "It's the End of the World as We Know It," a take on the classic R.E.M. song that seemingly only has the lyrics of that title and Leonard Bernstein in it.
First entry: Hearing my former supervisor (a guy I'll have to tell you about soon) say in response to hearing the name "Mohammed Hakeem": "You think he's an Al Quada operative?" Then laughing hysterically twice, but not in succession.
I lost my bus pass last Friday. I have this routine set up where I get my pass out, show the kindly driver, and then put it back in my messenger bag and grab a seat (usually at the back because lately my bus is now averaging 40+ passengers a day). The routine is something I don't think twice about. But on Friday, I guess the planets weren't aligned or the fat lady sung, because as I got off the bus at that ridiculous hour to head into work (I get a 6:10 into New York to be at work by 7:30. I'm always early though), I went into my bag to grab my pass, and lo and behold, no pass. I went into panic mode instantly. I frantically searched the ground while what felt like thousands of people trampled over me like Simba in "The Lion King." I thought, "Maybe it's still on the bus. Surely it couldn't have gotten far." So I asked the nice driver if I could check and immediately I tried to scour where I sat, searching for this ridiculous piece of laminated paper. Now looking back, I should have just stayed on the bus and looked for it, and let the driver tell me time was up. I was worried about being late; the whole thing is, there was roughly about $200 in passes (one month) in that ID holder, so I really wanted it back. After looking for about two minutes, I went to the subway, dejected, but mostly annoyed and angry. I went into work in a bad mood, more so than I usually do.
Then began my hectic Friday of running back and forth, trying to secure a new pass. My job didn't make things easy. The kind receptionist who spoke little to no English informed me I could get a replacement one the same day, but it required me to go back and forth between their office and my own, eventually having to get a statement notarized saying I wasn't lying about losing it. Yes, notarized. They may as well have asked me to put my hand on the Bible.
After I took care of that, and proceeded to take one of the worst ID pictures ever (blurry, eyes half closed, crooked head) I went to see about the NJ Transit situation. I hoofed it to the Port Authority and went to the Customer Service window. I was met by a guy behind what looked like bulletproof glass, probably because he knew people don't come here in the best of moods, and attempt to attack him. He informed me I couldn't be issued another pass because they weren't "responsible" for it. Even though I'd be paying for more passes in the future, it was no dice. Dejected, I went to the NYPD to see if I could file a police report. Now I wanted to file a report saying my pass was stolen, but unfortunately there were too many "variables" as the officer said to make that decision. He was right. I had already pseudo frauded my company by telling them it was stolen; that way if it happened again (which I will make sure it doesn't) it would be the "first" time I lost it, not the second. Sneaky? Yes. But, it took me coming to my job to learn these tricks of the trade. Anyway, Officer Caruso (like the "singer" he said, though I was unsure of any singer by that last name) was nice about it, and offered to write me a report for a lost pass anyway. I obliged, mainly because I was there anyway. I brought this story back to NJT, who denied me again. Frustrated, I went back, knowing I wasted an entire day just to straighten this out.
I had already accepted the fact I'd have to buy another pass. I had contacted NJT's lost claims department and essentially put out an APB at the PANY also. I wasn't too sure it'd ever show up; there was a full February pass in there, the equivalent to finding free money for commuters. I pleaded my case to a NJT rep. I'd dealt with before, figuring it wouldn't hurt to ask. I had been a valued customer for all of 4 months. He later wrote me back saying he forwarded my inquiry to the bus ticketing supervisor. Finally, a break. Long story short, due to my honesty in saying it was lost, they granted me a "once in a lifetime" refund for the pass. These refunds are usually reserved for passes that weren't mailed, theft, or bribery (well, maybe not the last one, but I never asked). While I still will be paying the money anyway, it won't have to be bought twice. So sometimes people and things can surprise you. While it may not make me a believer, it was enough to restore some faith in humanity. It was like the time I lost my wallet in K-Mart, when I was buying really expensive Christmas gifts (isn't knock off gold and Thom McCann shoes considered "classy"?) and dropped my wallet. I had a decent amount of money in there, at least for a 12 year old, and it was a decent wallet, something I obtained through my parents' Marlboro cigarettes (see kids, it does pay to harm your body! You too can get free stuff like me through these point systems). While I went home, saddened in knowing my family and friends would likely be shut out of bath towels this Christmas, I received a phone call from a stranger. "Is this Daniel?" He asked. "Yes," I replied, not knowing if this was Ed McMahon or a bad man from "To Catch a Predator." "I found your wallet. You can come pick it up." I couldn't believe it. I had no identification in it, besides some type of membership to National Geographic Magazine. I later found out this guy had searched the entire phone book of my last name, calling each name until he found the right one. Unbelievable. I picked it up and asked him if he wanted the money, since everything was still in there. He didn't accept it. I remember sending him a Christmas card the next year, thanking him again for his unreal honesty. I'm reminded of him when I think about this past Friday. Maybe that's why I thought something good could happen; after experiencing that incredible show of kindness, anything's possible, I guess. It just gives you enough hope that maybe we can survive as a people. But then I see these talentless hacks on TV, exposing their naughty bits and acting every bit as "Hollywood" as they shouldn't be, and I realize...our kids are in for some real shit soon.
New addition: a random site/observation I'll dub "It's the End of the World as We Know It," a take on the classic R.E.M. song that seemingly only has the lyrics of that title and Leonard Bernstein in it.
First entry: Hearing my former supervisor (a guy I'll have to tell you about soon) say in response to hearing the name "Mohammed Hakeem": "You think he's an Al Quada operative?" Then laughing hysterically twice, but not in succession.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
The Return...You Miss Me?
To the three people that read this, I sincerely apologize for my laziness in posting. I had a lot of notable events happen in December, mostly seeing the death of a co-worker about 10 feet in front of me, but I never addressed it. It's a pretty long story, so I don't want to get into it right now. But I'll revisit it soon, because it was something I'll certainly never forget.
So where do I begin? I guess I'll catch everyone up, like a "Lost" summary episode (they show one of these like once a week):
I'm still at my current job. The 18th of this month was my 7 month anniversary. But why am I not, as Bob Kelso would say on "Scrubs," sitting bareassed on the copier? Maybe because the copier machines couldn't support my frame. Maybe because our copier machines malfunction more than a Janet Jackson breast and I wouldn't get a good scan. Or maybe it's because I still hate my job. Probably more so now than ever before. Every Sunday night, like about this time, I dread the end of the day. Because I know I'll have to set foot into that monster for another week. Another week of drama and monotony. Another week of annoying bosses and nosy co-workers.
I guess I really shouldn't complain; while I'm still looking for another job, it's nice to know I have a job to still fall back on. And the work isn't that dreadful; I have finally started to get the hang of things and feel like I'm starting to come into my own. But I guess it's just a combination of everything: the boring work, the high levels of bureaucracy, the idea that I'm not adequately applying everything I've learned (including four years of college) into this. I don't know anymore.
Maybe it's just the idea that the people I work with couldn't work anywhere else. Sure, a lot of them are really smart and talented, and could be anywhere. But it's these other "creatures," I'll call them, that are there. The ones who clearly could never get a job at McDonalds, but have 20 years in where I work. It's sickening to think what people can get away with. Lateness, unprofessional ism, and just overall idiocy. I get disgusted just seeing some of these people: the two 300+ pound men who just look like they've given up and are, gasp, satisfied with their appearance (even though we routinely meet with vendors daily). The people who dress as if "business casual" is just a suggestion, not a rule. But mainly it's just the people who walk in everyday, don't do anything, and nothing comes of it. That's what gets me the worst: this place is so scared of stepping on anyone's toes, that they'll just look the other way when something happens, instead of facing it head on. There has been numerous instances where people have clearly been committing some type of fault, and in any other place, they'd be disciplined and likely fired. Not this fantastic place. They'll just move your desk or brush it under the rug.
That is mainly why I need to get out. I almost feel like Tim Robbins in "The Shawshank Redemption." Not to that extreme (I also don't have that friendly Morgan Freeman-type watching my back either), but I can feel for him. Stuck in a place he sees no way of getting out of. The only way to get out is to do it himself. Make his own destination. And I'm trying, I'm really trying. I know there's light at the end, but it's just really faint right now. But I know it's out there.
What really put everything into perspective was looking my bus passes and ID card two days ago. It was the third item (besides two scarves in about a month) I'd lost, and boy, let me tell you: don't ever lose anything from my company. They make things as easy as getting a prostate exam from a prison guard with rough skin. My entire day was spent shuffling back and forth trying to get replacement cards and passes. I had my February bus pass in there, because who ever thinks you'll lose this stuff? But when you break that routine once, I'm telling you, it screws everything up. Long story short: I probably have to buy new passes, at a great price of $173! Because NJ Transit could care less how you lose them; they just want to make sure you get new ones. Gee, life is great.
But back to the job. Other times it's like "Scrubs." That may just because I love that show to no end and can quote it like some can quote the Bible, but I really think they're related. While the building I work in isn't a hospital, it has a lot of the same recurring themes. The attractive staff (well at least some of them). Gossip about the new people who get hired. Interesting "patients." A mentor-type figure we all have (for me, it was that one guy who recently passed, but now it's this kindhearted Palestinian father of four who sits behind me). But really it's about me, my close female friend (we'll just call her Eliot to keep things Scrubs-related) and Turk (same thing). Between those two, it keeps me at least half sane. I've had a lot of fun times with them. With Eliot, I can joke around with her about our mutual disdain for the job (she has a similar feeling) and our mutual love for her boss (who happens to be male, I guess it can be called a "man crush"). With Turk, on the other hand, we can talk about weightlifting, and then laugh about seeing our effiminate boss talking on his cellphone in the wind screaming "It's really windy out here" as it looks like his 20 lb. body is about to be lifted into the current. When I do leave (not if), it'll be sad to leave them behind, if they're still there. But sometimes, you just can't look back. Who am I? I guess J.D. But I can see a lot of myself in the other people too. It's amazing how much art can imitate life.
But really why I want to get out the most is because my heart just isn't in it. I know I could give more of myself to this job, and if I liked it, I would. But I really am just to the point where I do enough to get by and leave. Why should I put more time into this if I don't care? I'm to the point where when my boss comes down on me, I just shake it off and could care less. I try to create the illusion of being bulletproof, but it's really just not caring. My co-workers are astounded by my unflappableness (if that's a word...spellcheck begs to differ), but I don't want to let anyone see me sweat. I don't want them to get the benefit that they've gotten to me. I want to show them I won't buckle under pressure, like a lot of other people there.
I guess I mainly am just depressed because my entire life seems to be just in a holding pattern. Professionally, I think I have expressed that quite clear enough. Romantically...it's as bare as the rainforest will be in 30 years. Any chances/potential I've had, nothing's come of it. My most recent missed field goal (also see how many sports references I can make) was with this girl I met a few months ago. She was a secretary with a company I dealt with daily. I talked to her a few times and always felt like there was some chemistry there. Finally, after mustering up enough courage to ask her out (on company time no less), it never happened. Missed calls and chances flew by, until I called her back later in 2007. Now, I guess I should mention I've never met this girl or even know what she looks like. I just know her name. And since I subtly can't just ask her "So, by the way, do you look like Jessica Alba in Maxim, or do you have more of a Rosie O'Donnell thing going on," I just have to take my chances. I figure why not. I have nothing to lose. Unfortunately, our date that was supposed to happen never did (as she was away on another "vacation"). I don't think it's an excuse, because she still seems genuinely interested. But I can't wait. I have to keep looking. At this point in my life, it's all about taking chances. And at 22 and 3/4 years old, I'd really like for something to happen.
My dream over the next 6 months is for the following things to happen:
So where do I begin? I guess I'll catch everyone up, like a "Lost" summary episode (they show one of these like once a week):
I'm still at my current job. The 18th of this month was my 7 month anniversary. But why am I not, as Bob Kelso would say on "Scrubs," sitting bareassed on the copier? Maybe because the copier machines couldn't support my frame. Maybe because our copier machines malfunction more than a Janet Jackson breast and I wouldn't get a good scan. Or maybe it's because I still hate my job. Probably more so now than ever before. Every Sunday night, like about this time, I dread the end of the day. Because I know I'll have to set foot into that monster for another week. Another week of drama and monotony. Another week of annoying bosses and nosy co-workers.
I guess I really shouldn't complain; while I'm still looking for another job, it's nice to know I have a job to still fall back on. And the work isn't that dreadful; I have finally started to get the hang of things and feel like I'm starting to come into my own. But I guess it's just a combination of everything: the boring work, the high levels of bureaucracy, the idea that I'm not adequately applying everything I've learned (including four years of college) into this. I don't know anymore.
Maybe it's just the idea that the people I work with couldn't work anywhere else. Sure, a lot of them are really smart and talented, and could be anywhere. But it's these other "creatures," I'll call them, that are there. The ones who clearly could never get a job at McDonalds, but have 20 years in where I work. It's sickening to think what people can get away with. Lateness, unprofessional ism, and just overall idiocy. I get disgusted just seeing some of these people: the two 300+ pound men who just look like they've given up and are, gasp, satisfied with their appearance (even though we routinely meet with vendors daily). The people who dress as if "business casual" is just a suggestion, not a rule. But mainly it's just the people who walk in everyday, don't do anything, and nothing comes of it. That's what gets me the worst: this place is so scared of stepping on anyone's toes, that they'll just look the other way when something happens, instead of facing it head on. There has been numerous instances where people have clearly been committing some type of fault, and in any other place, they'd be disciplined and likely fired. Not this fantastic place. They'll just move your desk or brush it under the rug.
That is mainly why I need to get out. I almost feel like Tim Robbins in "The Shawshank Redemption." Not to that extreme (I also don't have that friendly Morgan Freeman-type watching my back either), but I can feel for him. Stuck in a place he sees no way of getting out of. The only way to get out is to do it himself. Make his own destination. And I'm trying, I'm really trying. I know there's light at the end, but it's just really faint right now. But I know it's out there.
What really put everything into perspective was looking my bus passes and ID card two days ago. It was the third item (besides two scarves in about a month) I'd lost, and boy, let me tell you: don't ever lose anything from my company. They make things as easy as getting a prostate exam from a prison guard with rough skin. My entire day was spent shuffling back and forth trying to get replacement cards and passes. I had my February bus pass in there, because who ever thinks you'll lose this stuff? But when you break that routine once, I'm telling you, it screws everything up. Long story short: I probably have to buy new passes, at a great price of $173! Because NJ Transit could care less how you lose them; they just want to make sure you get new ones. Gee, life is great.
But back to the job. Other times it's like "Scrubs." That may just because I love that show to no end and can quote it like some can quote the Bible, but I really think they're related. While the building I work in isn't a hospital, it has a lot of the same recurring themes. The attractive staff (well at least some of them). Gossip about the new people who get hired. Interesting "patients." A mentor-type figure we all have (for me, it was that one guy who recently passed, but now it's this kindhearted Palestinian father of four who sits behind me). But really it's about me, my close female friend (we'll just call her Eliot to keep things Scrubs-related) and Turk (same thing). Between those two, it keeps me at least half sane. I've had a lot of fun times with them. With Eliot, I can joke around with her about our mutual disdain for the job (she has a similar feeling) and our mutual love for her boss (who happens to be male, I guess it can be called a "man crush"). With Turk, on the other hand, we can talk about weightlifting, and then laugh about seeing our effiminate boss talking on his cellphone in the wind screaming "It's really windy out here" as it looks like his 20 lb. body is about to be lifted into the current. When I do leave (not if), it'll be sad to leave them behind, if they're still there. But sometimes, you just can't look back. Who am I? I guess J.D. But I can see a lot of myself in the other people too. It's amazing how much art can imitate life.
But really why I want to get out the most is because my heart just isn't in it. I know I could give more of myself to this job, and if I liked it, I would. But I really am just to the point where I do enough to get by and leave. Why should I put more time into this if I don't care? I'm to the point where when my boss comes down on me, I just shake it off and could care less. I try to create the illusion of being bulletproof, but it's really just not caring. My co-workers are astounded by my unflappableness (if that's a word...spellcheck begs to differ), but I don't want to let anyone see me sweat. I don't want them to get the benefit that they've gotten to me. I want to show them I won't buckle under pressure, like a lot of other people there.
I guess I mainly am just depressed because my entire life seems to be just in a holding pattern. Professionally, I think I have expressed that quite clear enough. Romantically...it's as bare as the rainforest will be in 30 years. Any chances/potential I've had, nothing's come of it. My most recent missed field goal (also see how many sports references I can make) was with this girl I met a few months ago. She was a secretary with a company I dealt with daily. I talked to her a few times and always felt like there was some chemistry there. Finally, after mustering up enough courage to ask her out (on company time no less), it never happened. Missed calls and chances flew by, until I called her back later in 2007. Now, I guess I should mention I've never met this girl or even know what she looks like. I just know her name. And since I subtly can't just ask her "So, by the way, do you look like Jessica Alba in Maxim, or do you have more of a Rosie O'Donnell thing going on," I just have to take my chances. I figure why not. I have nothing to lose. Unfortunately, our date that was supposed to happen never did (as she was away on another "vacation"). I don't think it's an excuse, because she still seems genuinely interested. But I can't wait. I have to keep looking. At this point in my life, it's all about taking chances. And at 22 and 3/4 years old, I'd really like for something to happen.
My dream over the next 6 months is for the following things to happen:
- Move out by the summer. I just can't stand living at home anymore. I'm not charged rent and get meals and laundry, like college, but it's just becoming too taxing anymore. Getting into the city is too much of a pain in the ass from here, even though I'm not that far. And I just need to have my own space. I want to be able to be on my own, like college. But...
- If I switch jobs and take a paycut, that won't be happening. That's what I worry: am I willing to bite the bullet now for something I want long term?
- Find "the one," or at least the "for now". I guess this is a never ending problem my friends and I have: we're all great guys, but just have no luck with the ladies. We're no "Rat Pack" I guess, but we're definitely no "Mutants from Table 9" either (two points to someone who knows what movie that's from). I know it's all about going out there and being proactive, but it's not as easy as Vince Vaughn makes it out to be. And women certainly don't make things easier, either.
- Be happy. I am not miserable, but I'm not giddy with delight. Hopefully if the above bulleted points happen sooner rather than later, I will be. But for now, I guess I'm just complacent (there I am using that word again).
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