I know it sounds like I'm beating a dead horse, but the last few weeks have been unbearable at "work." Just the days going by so slowly, the monotony of the work, the idea of never getting out...these things fill my brain all day. I just think back and wonder where a year went. I wake up at some ungodly hour, commute an hour in, push some paper, either workout or play softball after, and come home to eat and sleep. That's been the routine for awhile now. And I gotta tell you, it's getting really old. My friends who also hate it talk about it everyday. I feel like prisoners who sit around and talk about the "outside." Dramatic, but just so true. At this point I've built up some level of seniority; I'm the longest tenured person there of the new hires, and my boss for the most part leaves me alone. But I'm just not there. I see people there, coming in on weekends, acting like what they do matters, miserable, and pray that's not me. I've been applying to job after job, sending in resume after resume, and for what? To receive no callback, no e-mail, no nothing? At some point you just have to wonder if it's them or you. I'd just about take anything else but what I'm doing now. Maybe my life will be like "The Matrix" or "Wanted," where I'm plucked out of this rat-on-a-wheel routine and given some glamorous new job; as the savior of the world or an assassin....a guy can dream, can't he?
Things are looking up a bit, romantically though. I met a girl a few weeks ago who was amazing. Smart, funny, beautiful...just the complete package. Things went well the whole night. I walked away number-less, but still felt I had built the foundation for something. Having no way of contacting her (she had my number, but as women do, likely would never call me), I did some Law and Order style sleuthing. I contacted her friend, who in turn was a friend of a friend, via e-mail to get her information and get on his good side. He gladly obliged, but only gave me her name. While I could have gotten that myself, I appreciated his efforts, and knew I was in good with him, the first step in any possible relationship. So after a series of messages and text messages, we went out last Tuesday. And I gotta say, while I've only been on a handful of "dates" in my life, this was really my first official one. I did the whole gentleman thing; holding the doors, paying, etc. It felt good. And we had such great conversation; never a lull or awkward silence...just a nice back and forth volley. The end of the night ended on kind of an odd note (her sister came to the door to let her in, which ruined any chance of potential lip-on-lip action), but I figured a second date had to be in the cards. But now I'm starting to get worried. After sending an ill-fated, but still not as bad as I think, text message the next day, I called her on Saturday, waiting a few days so as not to seem desperate or suffocating. I haven't heard anything back, and hope it's just either part of the game or she just doesn't have the time. I feel like the whole two-day thing is overrated anyway; I think if you like someone and they like you, you can just be confident and honest from the get-go and things can only go up. She's a double major also, with one of those majors being psychology. She may be able to read through all this anyway and feel like I'm just being immature and write me off. Maybe I'm overanalyzing things (one of my fatal flaws), but how can I not? It's not exactly like my dance card is filled up lately. I just feel like every time I think something good is/will happen for me, it falls through, either by my own doing or something else. It's extremely frustrating and depressing. I wish there was some type of rule book everyone abided by; and there was a process to everything. While in a way there is (the whole two-day waiting thing, for one), I try not to follow it. Because people hate bullshit. I just hope she calls. It might make things at least a little more bearable.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
These Are a Few of My Least Favorite Things...
It's been forever since I've posted, so what better way to reacquaint myself with the blogging community than with a list of things I hate? I've had so much time to think about this list, so without further ado, here's "Things I Hate," in no particular order:
- People who over dress. It's not that cold, so why are you wearing a damn scarf and coat? Today was 70 out, and I saw a girl in a full scarf wrapped around her neck like a boa constrictor. It's called weather.com or the news. I know it's not always accurate, but they usually get the degrees right, just not the precipitation involved. Study it. Learn it. Live it.
- In a similar regard, people who use umbrellas when it's not raining. If it's just a few drops, what's the big deal? Will you melt? Using an umbrella when it's not raining is like not wearing a seatbelt in a car: you can do it, but it just makes you look like a dumbass. Also, I don't need my retina ripped out by those oversized beach tarps which have spikes on the end like barbwire.
- Not moving over to the window seat when getting on a bus. Are you entitled to two seats? Did somehow your monthly pass give you the right to take up two seats? I really hate that people do this, then have to move over anyway when the bus gets packed. I know how great it feels to have no person next to you, but on a 5:00 bus, that's just not going to happen. Why don't you move over in the first place and we won't avoid this unnecessary delay? And don't act like you're inconvenienced when I tell you to move over. Having a window seat is better anyway.
- Fat people sitting next to you on the bus. I don't mind if it's a skinny person or a really good looking woman, but why is it every time I get on, the Nutty Professor always plops right next to me? Then I'm forced to be pushed into the corner (because I always move over) like a damn sardine in a can. For some reason, I'm getting more and more sickened by overweight people. Honestly, this may sound shallow of me, but how hard it is to just not eat that 5th piece of chicken? How can people look at themselves and be happy with what they see? It baffles me. And I know, I'm being insensitive, it could be a variety of reasons, but I still have yet to find one that sways me.
- Repeating myself. I find that people just don't pay attention. Ever. I have a friend who consistently zones out whenever I talk to him. I find myself saying the same thing twice, in rapid succession, just so I don't have to say it again. Take some concentration pills, and listen, for God sakes.
- Not re-racking weights or cleaning off machines when done with them at the gym. Do you leave your house like this? Do you just open the peanut butter jar and leave it sitting out when you're done with it? This gym is terrible for this. Not only do you have a bunch of muscleheads trying to impress each other, but you have a workout facility that looks like a pig sty. How hard it is to put your dumbbells back onto the rack you found them on? Obviously you can lift them up.
- Cover letters. Why isn't a resume good enough? How about if you like that, you call me and I'll tell you everything I'd write in a cover letter? That is the hardest part of the job application process, and I just never have the time to do it. What do they want me to say?
- Commuting. Sucks, plain and simple. Especially from another state. Why doesn't NJ Transit run later? Because they are bitches, that's why. I can't wait to move out.
- Gas prices. If we're supposed to be in this justified war to get oil for a cheaper price, where is the payoff? I'm still paying like $35 a week for half a tank. While NJ is still the cheapest, almost $4 a gallon isn't exactly getting it for free.
- Women. I don't get you. You're interested one minute, then something happens and you never talk to me again. And don't even get me started on women who are unavailable but still give off this air of being available and interested. I find this particularly applicable in the workplace. People there just aren't human. More like Terminators. They talk to you, but give you the cold shoulder the next day. Maybe it's the job, I don't know, but I realized you can't pursue people you work with. It just never works out.
- Work. Still sucks, I know. Blink 182 was right. I really feel like I'm getting dumber by being there. Was I really put on this planet to do this mindless crap day in and day out? Punching a clock and then doing it all over again the next day? I really hope not.
- Idiocy. I seem to encounter this mostly at work. Whether it's people who think what they do somehow matters, to people who clearly only got their job because they couldn't work anywhere else, stupidity seems to run rampant. Since I ceased caring a long time ago, it doesn't affect me as much. But it has made me incredibly jaded, as you can tell.
- Stalemates. I'm not at the crossroads of my life (I'm way too young for that), but I feel like I'm floating. I know what I want, but I just find it harder to attain. I'm coming up on a year here. A year! I can honestly say I didn't picture myself doing this last year. I know I should be happy I have a job, making money, etc, but really, if it feels like you're losing who you are, your identity, what did you gain? It's tough.
- Weekends. Don't get me wrong, I live for these days now. They're the only days I can relax. But I find they've just been moving too fast lately. I blink my eyes and it's Sunday night already. Like I always say, "Lather, rinse, repeat."
Monday, March 3, 2008
A Confederacy of Dunces
As if I have to give another reason why I have to leave my job, here's Reason No. 25: Unprofessional jackasses. I can't sum it up any better. These people are your typical alpha males who feel somehow they are better than everyone else even though they really don't do anything. It's a sad realization that some of these people I deal with on a daily basis would be jobless without where I work. They couldn't work anywhere else. Working here, you're allowed to be incompetent and rude; it's almost seen as a part of the job. I had a run-in with a fellow that fit this description. Clearly a man who should have retired 10 years ago, he'd become curmudgeon and basically a real asshole. He pretty much yelled at my boss for two minutes before realizing how big of an idiot he was. I feel bad for her. As much as she does (even if it's unnecessary and useless), she's still disrespected. Being a woman in this line of work is tough; it really is an old boy's club and nothing will change that. Most of the senior positions are male-dominated, as are the other departments we work with. I just hate the fact that people think they matter in the grand scheme of things around here; they're just glorified paper pushers who are similar to a tenured schoolteacher: they're untouchable, can never be fired, and are just collecting the paycheck until they can retire with a fat pension. I don't want to be that guy who is just working for a solid benefits program. While it's assuring to know I'd have good job security and free healthcare after I retire, but I don't want that to be the driving force in me staying somewhere. I'd rather be at a $40,000 a year job for a year and be happy than a $60k and be miserable.
But enough about that. Let me explain the ineptness of my commute. Recently, the brain surgeons over at NJ Transit decided to create this new bus/train combination terminal near my house. While the commute is virtually the same distance going, coming home my travel time is cut down by almost 10 minutes. Which is fantastic; no one likes to sit in traffic at rush hour, especially on a street with about 100 traffic lights. Anyway, I've been going there for about a month and a half, and it's been fine. Parking is the big issue there now; as the lot consistently fills up and many are shut out. I never have to worry about that, as I get there at the ass-crack of dawn (well really about 5:55am), so there's plenty of spots. And with parking not costing me anything, it's a tolerable evil, as commuting sucks the big one, but what can you do right now when you still live at home.
But recently, those bastards decided they weren't making enough from us on just a ticket alone, so parking fees went into effect a few days ago. While $25 a month won't kill me, it's still really annoying. It's like wearing some ripped jeans and accidently putting your knee through them once you buy them. You can still wear them, but they look a bit ridiculous. That's how I feel with this parking. The only problem is, they only made enough monthly passes for about 10 people, because they sold out in minutes. So I am stuck with the $2 daily pass. Something I have to buy everyday until the end of the month. That's about $40 a month. And they don't mark off the daily spots close to the platform at all; you're about 100 miles away. This morning was the first work day of this new rule, so all I saw was NJ Transit workers trying to direct confused commuters around the lot, like those parking attendants at the beach parking lots. While the monthly parking is right near the front of the entrance, the dailys are consigned to the back of the bus so to speak. Just add it to the list, I guess.
Enough ranting. I'm hoping to throw a birthday party next week, and it'd be awesome if more than 2 people showed up. We'll see who's really my friend if they trek it out there.
The End of the World: Where to begin? Seeing a co-worker at lunch take off his sock and shoes, then the other sock in front of me (I guess we're getting close), someone saying they heard rumors I "get shitfaced at New York Dolls (wherever that is)." The same person, in response to saying that was what he does, replying, "If I pay $100 I want the whole thing." Hearing my boss and this jerkoff argue over a BBQ. Who knew food could cause that much hostility? Oh wait, I can see that.
But enough about that. Let me explain the ineptness of my commute. Recently, the brain surgeons over at NJ Transit decided to create this new bus/train combination terminal near my house. While the commute is virtually the same distance going, coming home my travel time is cut down by almost 10 minutes. Which is fantastic; no one likes to sit in traffic at rush hour, especially on a street with about 100 traffic lights. Anyway, I've been going there for about a month and a half, and it's been fine. Parking is the big issue there now; as the lot consistently fills up and many are shut out. I never have to worry about that, as I get there at the ass-crack of dawn (well really about 5:55am), so there's plenty of spots. And with parking not costing me anything, it's a tolerable evil, as commuting sucks the big one, but what can you do right now when you still live at home.
But recently, those bastards decided they weren't making enough from us on just a ticket alone, so parking fees went into effect a few days ago. While $25 a month won't kill me, it's still really annoying. It's like wearing some ripped jeans and accidently putting your knee through them once you buy them. You can still wear them, but they look a bit ridiculous. That's how I feel with this parking. The only problem is, they only made enough monthly passes for about 10 people, because they sold out in minutes. So I am stuck with the $2 daily pass. Something I have to buy everyday until the end of the month. That's about $40 a month. And they don't mark off the daily spots close to the platform at all; you're about 100 miles away. This morning was the first work day of this new rule, so all I saw was NJ Transit workers trying to direct confused commuters around the lot, like those parking attendants at the beach parking lots. While the monthly parking is right near the front of the entrance, the dailys are consigned to the back of the bus so to speak. Just add it to the list, I guess.
Enough ranting. I'm hoping to throw a birthday party next week, and it'd be awesome if more than 2 people showed up. We'll see who's really my friend if they trek it out there.
The End of the World: Where to begin? Seeing a co-worker at lunch take off his sock and shoes, then the other sock in front of me (I guess we're getting close), someone saying they heard rumors I "get shitfaced at New York Dolls (wherever that is)." The same person, in response to saying that was what he does, replying, "If I pay $100 I want the whole thing." Hearing my boss and this jerkoff argue over a BBQ. Who knew food could cause that much hostility? Oh wait, I can see that.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
To Sleep, Perchance to Dream...I wish
I've been having issues with sleep. While it's always on my top 10 list of favorite things, lately I've been unable to accomplish said task. I've tried every possible solution: going to bed later, earlier, watching TV, listening to music, reading, making lists, blogging, etc. I still somehow wake up about an hour to a half hour before my alarm goes off. Now, I'm not incredibly tired when I do wake up at this time (I think my body's used to the early wakeups at this point, since I wake up at about 5am everyday), but it's frustrating to have your REM disturbed like this everyday. I think it may be my mattress, but even after adjusting it my adding my old college egg crate comforter to it, didn't do anything. I want one of those Serta Perfect Sleepers (sic, I think) or at least a bigger bed, but alas, the funds are too low for such a purchase. But I'm looking for a potential move out of mid-summer, so I have some time to save up. It's just becoming too much to commute an hour into work, then at least an hour back. And when I want to stay in the city after work, I have to make sure I get back to the bus stop in time before it leaves (NJ Transit has this retarded policy of only running the last bus before 12am. On weekdays OK, but why not run them more often on Fridays and weekends? It would generate more income and help everyone out more). I can always just crash at a friend's apartment, as I have a lot scattered throughout the city and the adjoining boroughs, but I still have to go home the next day. I stayed at a friend's apartment in Queens two weeks ago, and it took me TWO hours to get home! That's just ridiculous. I also want my own space and moving out is the only acceptable alternative. Ideally I'd like to move into the Prospect Park area; good neighborhood, nice outdoors, affordable. I think I need about $7-8k to move out, cover the first and last month's rent, and security deposit. I'm actually almost there.
I've also applied to another job. It's only an internship, but it's with Men's Health, which is my all-time favorite magazine. It's become my bible; I go to it for everything. And to have an opportunity to work for them, is almost a dream come true. I've applied there at least 2 other times, coming close the second time, but still ultimately not getting it. Sure, the obvious factors set in when applying for just an internship: salary, benefits, housing, etc. But I'll worry about that if anything happens. I've learned to go into everything with a very skeptical eye and low expectations; it's a lousy way to live, but at least you'll never be let down. But it would be sweet to get it. It'd be in another state (PA), but that's exactly the change I'm looking for. I've always seen myself as a "city" person, especially after going to school in NY, but now is the time for something new. I don't have anything tying me to here anymore. The place I grew up in basically sucks now. It's the same group of people who do the same thing every night. I've always said that my life somewhat resembles Andrew Largeman in "Garden State" and Will Hunting in "Good Will Hunting." Now, I didn't push my mom down a flight of stairs like Large did, and I'm no math whiz like Will, but I can relate somewhat to how they felt: bored of the "norm" and looking to break out. It only takes one opportunity, one girl, one anything...and the willingness to put yourself out there, and be willing to take the hit for it. And damnit, I think I'm at that stage in my life. I wouldn't go so far as to say it's a semi-life crisis or a quarter life crisis, because I am only 22, but I just feel like I'm in a rut. My friends seem to be content with where they are. One, my best friend, especially. He dropped out of college after a trying first year, and never went back. He works and has his own apartment now, but you know he can't be doing that forever. I try to get some of these people to explore new things and try new places, but there so set in their ways they're unable to change. And that's the saddest thing of all.
Meanwhile, at that hellhole I call work, things have been the same: nothing new, nothing better. I've been doing data entry for the past few days until my eyes rolled out of my head and took the midnight train to Georgia. The only thing that keeps me going there is the money of course (as measly as it is, it's enough to get by on) and the friends I've made there. I've met some people who I can see myself continuing to hang out with after I leave (see, I say after not if...gotta stay positive). While I'd feel bad giving my job possibly only two weeks before leaving, I really don't care. Sure, it was my first job, but I have no allegiance there. It's merely a stepping stone to something bigger and better. They'll get over it...it's not like what we do is rocket science (it's "brain surgery"...a classic Simpsons line...check the episode, I think it's one of the Treehouse of Horrors...Mr. Burns is the mad scientist creating a monster out of Homer's brain, only to realize it's Homer's brain and it's as useful as a bag of rocks).
That's about it. Thankfully only two days left before the weekend, which I now live for more than anything, even though I never do anything. Though there's some options for the weekend, so maybe it won't end up with me and a few chums at the local watering hole having a few cold ones and going home...oh wait, that's exactly how it will be. I know it sounds like all I do is bitch, but I'm not completely unhappy. I do have a job, and have been saving a lot of money by moving back home. I guess I'm just satisfied or content right now. But I would like to be happy. Happy about going into work everyday. Happy with my social life. Just happy. And I hope that that comes sooner rather than later.
Sidenote: Maybe I am capable of being somewhat charming. A woman was unsure of where to catch a bus today, and thought it was on the line I was standing on. Unfortunately it was on the other side, behind my line. But she was sure it was this line. Finally she opened the timetables and showed me the section. Even with headphones in, I pointed out to her it said the other line, not this one. I said it in my best cool voice (I'm trying to emulate Wentworth Miller in Prison Break...that show is not only awesome, but he's got the right "look"...yes, I'm straight) and she replied, "You're a doll" and touched my arm. While it was nothing, it still made me feel good. I've struck out so many times with women this year (at least five in a shade under a year) or missed opportunities, I was beginning to lose hope. But moments like that show that maybe kindness can be a turn-on. Sure she was older and I wasn't looking to flirt, but if I can be like that all the time, then I gotta get somewhere, right? Don't answer that.
Classic moment (Shortening the "It's the End" title, it just took too long to write and I didn't know how to properly appreviate it): My boss explaining to a company who's offering a quote on a BBQ we're having to think about "800 hungry men" in coming up with a price. For roughly five minutes, a back and forth dialogue was exchanged between my boss and this vendor about feeding men, and how more than one hot dog would be eaten at a time. "Maybe even 3," my boss added. Cue the Twilight Zone music.
I've also applied to another job. It's only an internship, but it's with Men's Health, which is my all-time favorite magazine. It's become my bible; I go to it for everything. And to have an opportunity to work for them, is almost a dream come true. I've applied there at least 2 other times, coming close the second time, but still ultimately not getting it. Sure, the obvious factors set in when applying for just an internship: salary, benefits, housing, etc. But I'll worry about that if anything happens. I've learned to go into everything with a very skeptical eye and low expectations; it's a lousy way to live, but at least you'll never be let down. But it would be sweet to get it. It'd be in another state (PA), but that's exactly the change I'm looking for. I've always seen myself as a "city" person, especially after going to school in NY, but now is the time for something new. I don't have anything tying me to here anymore. The place I grew up in basically sucks now. It's the same group of people who do the same thing every night. I've always said that my life somewhat resembles Andrew Largeman in "Garden State" and Will Hunting in "Good Will Hunting." Now, I didn't push my mom down a flight of stairs like Large did, and I'm no math whiz like Will, but I can relate somewhat to how they felt: bored of the "norm" and looking to break out. It only takes one opportunity, one girl, one anything...and the willingness to put yourself out there, and be willing to take the hit for it. And damnit, I think I'm at that stage in my life. I wouldn't go so far as to say it's a semi-life crisis or a quarter life crisis, because I am only 22, but I just feel like I'm in a rut. My friends seem to be content with where they are. One, my best friend, especially. He dropped out of college after a trying first year, and never went back. He works and has his own apartment now, but you know he can't be doing that forever. I try to get some of these people to explore new things and try new places, but there so set in their ways they're unable to change. And that's the saddest thing of all.
Meanwhile, at that hellhole I call work, things have been the same: nothing new, nothing better. I've been doing data entry for the past few days until my eyes rolled out of my head and took the midnight train to Georgia. The only thing that keeps me going there is the money of course (as measly as it is, it's enough to get by on) and the friends I've made there. I've met some people who I can see myself continuing to hang out with after I leave (see, I say after not if...gotta stay positive). While I'd feel bad giving my job possibly only two weeks before leaving, I really don't care. Sure, it was my first job, but I have no allegiance there. It's merely a stepping stone to something bigger and better. They'll get over it...it's not like what we do is rocket science (it's "brain surgery"...a classic Simpsons line...check the episode, I think it's one of the Treehouse of Horrors...Mr. Burns is the mad scientist creating a monster out of Homer's brain, only to realize it's Homer's brain and it's as useful as a bag of rocks).
That's about it. Thankfully only two days left before the weekend, which I now live for more than anything, even though I never do anything. Though there's some options for the weekend, so maybe it won't end up with me and a few chums at the local watering hole having a few cold ones and going home...oh wait, that's exactly how it will be. I know it sounds like all I do is bitch, but I'm not completely unhappy. I do have a job, and have been saving a lot of money by moving back home. I guess I'm just satisfied or content right now. But I would like to be happy. Happy about going into work everyday. Happy with my social life. Just happy. And I hope that that comes sooner rather than later.
Sidenote: Maybe I am capable of being somewhat charming. A woman was unsure of where to catch a bus today, and thought it was on the line I was standing on. Unfortunately it was on the other side, behind my line. But she was sure it was this line. Finally she opened the timetables and showed me the section. Even with headphones in, I pointed out to her it said the other line, not this one. I said it in my best cool voice (I'm trying to emulate Wentworth Miller in Prison Break...that show is not only awesome, but he's got the right "look"...yes, I'm straight) and she replied, "You're a doll" and touched my arm. While it was nothing, it still made me feel good. I've struck out so many times with women this year (at least five in a shade under a year) or missed opportunities, I was beginning to lose hope. But moments like that show that maybe kindness can be a turn-on. Sure she was older and I wasn't looking to flirt, but if I can be like that all the time, then I gotta get somewhere, right? Don't answer that.
Classic moment (Shortening the "It's the End" title, it just took too long to write and I didn't know how to properly appreviate it): My boss explaining to a company who's offering a quote on a BBQ we're having to think about "800 hungry men" in coming up with a price. For roughly five minutes, a back and forth dialogue was exchanged between my boss and this vendor about feeding men, and how more than one hot dog would be eaten at a time. "Maybe even 3," my boss added. Cue the Twilight Zone music.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
No Excuses...
I'll save the long-winded apology. Back to Montreal.
So pretty much I had to wait in the airport for roughly 2 hours for the rest of my party to arrive (flying out of your own state's major airport on the company's dime isn't so bad after all). After my entire customs debacle (sans the cavity search), I went in search for food. Besides the really filling two half-dollar sized cookies and glass of water I got on the airplane, I hadn't eaten anything in awhile. I was really hoping for some authentic French Canadian food, like Burger King or McDonalds, but unfortunately all I came across was Tim Hortons; apparently the Roy Rogers of Montreal. It was the only place where you could order a sandwich or donuts...or even a combo with a coffee. Since I didn't feel like wandering around anymore, I figured to just order a sandwich and wait until they landed. So I sauntered up to the register, even trying to lay down a smooth game by saying "Bonjour" to the cashier. But either my accent was bad or she wasn't in the mood, because she didn't even respond. Anyway, I ordered the "Deli Trio" special, which was a drink and a sandwich, when the cashier asked, in her French Canadian/English accent, if I wanted "sizz" or something like that, to which I of course replied, "Yes," since you never turn down a French Canadian in their own city no less. She then began to pick out six donuts from underneath the glass case. "This restaurant is awesome," I thought. "If they give me a draft beer for dessert, I'm buying stock in this company." I went with six chocolate glazed, and she placed them on the table. But then some weird things started to happen: she continued to ask me questions and then put six waters on the counter. I knew something was wrong. "Whoa, I think there was some miscommunication. I only wanted one water and a sandwich," I said, in my friendliest tone ever. "But you didn't say that," the cashier said in response, not in a friendly tone. So for the next 30 seconds we argued as to what I ordered and what I should have ordered. Eventually the manager came over and smoothed everything over by only giving me the one sandwich and water combination. Apparently, ordering a "Deli Trio" means you're getting a donut, drink, and sandwich. And "sizz" meant "six." Not the best way to start off a trip. But how cool would it be to get a sixer of donuts with a meal? I smell an American rip-off...
The rest of my group soon came after I ate my sandwich (though I should have told her no mustard. But at that point, I may have been given a roundhouse kick for asking such a request) and wandered around looking for a phone card in two different stores. Mind you, I was wearing a suit, and I see my group wearing jeans and sneakers. Just my luck.
I knew only one guy on this trip. The other two I had no clue what they looked like. I pictured one of them to look like someone from "Beauty and the Geek," complete with glasses and pants pulled up to his chest. The other, I thought would be this graying old fat man. Shows just how wrong we can be. They both introduced themselves, and boy, was I surprised. The "nerd" was this muscular bald dude who looked like he could destroy me in minutes. The other was a 4'11 (at the tallest) balding man with a moustache who looked like he just woke up from sleeping in a dryer. Disheveled and annoyed at customs for asking him too many questions, I instantly knew this would be an interesting two days. Throw in a heavyset black man who resembled Sherman Klump's father from "The Nutty Professor," and you had quite the motley crew.
After exchanging pleasantries we picked up our car for the trip, a very nice Hyundai SUV. Before we could leave though, a thorough body check of the car had to be completed, so we weren't unnecessarily billed for any damage. Since one of our group members worked with Budget Rent-a-Car previously, he went over every inch of the car, from the blinkers to the brakes. All the while, the short man (we'll call Mini-Man) was behind the wheel, seemingly unsure of how to operate the windshield wipers. And he was driving me?
Somehow we ended up making it out of the garage and onto the road. Luckily we had a GPS so we couldn't get lost, even though we had Dale Earnhardt, Jr. driving. He bobbed and weaved out of traffic like Muhammad Ali in his prime, stop signs and traffic lights be damned (well not exactly, but you get the idea). We stumbled onto our hotel's street, but because they were undergoing renovations, there was no sign for the entrance. So we had to drive around the block at least 3 times looking for it. We'd come to where we thought was the entrance: it was a service one only. Another wasn't the right building. All the while, Mini-Man was screaming at everyone in sight (passengers, pedestrians, other cars on the road, a guy in a wheelchair crossing the street). He even wanted to make an "illegal U-Turn" on one of our wrong turns. He began to back up on a one-way street, avoiding looking in the rearview mirror and the cars behind him. We almost had to bribe him to convince him not to do it. "It's just right ahead," we told him. Soon enough, we found it, and as soon as we got out of the car, Mini-Man began to argue with the bellhop about the lack of signs pointing you to the hotel, even though the kid had nothing to do with anything. That was one thing with this guy; he argued about everything. Got the master suite in the hotel? Damnit, he needed a bigger refrigerator. No 90 ounce steak on the menu? Well they better cook the 32 oz. one perfectly or there'd be hell to pay. And he said all of this while he profusely sweated, as if we were in the Sahara Desert, even though it was bout 15 degrees there all day. Couple that with a tendency to over drink and make a fool of himself, and you had one of the most colorful characters I've ever met.
But back to checking in: the very attractive hotel worker (I have a weakness for women named "Vanessa" who wear those stylish glasses) checked us in, we went to our rooms. Let me just tell you how bad these guys abuse our company's money. Instead of staying in a small 3-star room, they get executive suites with desks and mini-bars on the top floor. Me? I get a crappy room with two double beds and a broken thermostat. And forget about TV. Canadian TV sucks; besides showing "Viva La Bam" with course language intact, there's nothing on but hockey and crappy melodramas. The one bright spot was seeing a piece of "Arrested Development"; I really need to watch that show.
That night, we settled on dinner. I found out after I got all decked out that we were just eating in the hotel restaurant. Dinner was interesting. All we talked about was politics and religion. One of the party members, after telling him I was a journalism major in college, thought that was a green light to ask me about every event that's ever happened in the world and asking me for my opinion. When I hadn't heard of it ("You mean to tell me you don't know the history of the IRS?"), he would get upset. He also added "journalism student" to every question he asked me, as if that meant I should have my finger on the pulse of every current event ever. Then I had Mini-Man ordering two "Antifreeze" cocktails in under an hour and then continuously telling me to drink the beer he ordered. Then on my left, was Mr. Klump, doing his best Morgan Freeman impersonation, all the while trying to convert me to Christianity. And yes, I had only known these people (besides Klump) for less than a day. They eventually went to bed but seeing it was only about 8:30, I knew I had to go out and explore the town. I had told everyone I was going to stay out all night since I was only there for the night, but it wasn't as easy as I would have hoped. One, it's weird when you're alone. You don't want to roll up to a bar alone and be "that guy." Two, it was snowing like someone shook a snowglobe and dumped it all over, because it was coming down hard. Tiring of wandering the main strip (as it was within walking distance of the hotel), I settled on a fine establishment called "Super Sexe," which offered tales of "full contact dancing." I'll withhold the details of that encounter, as this is a family site, but let's just say Montreal rules, and I have to go back. And their people are very friendly.
I'll spare you the details of the trip, as it was as boring to experience it as it would be to write it. The trip home wasn't much better. A one-hour flight turned into a five-hour nightmare, as I ended up not getting home until well after 10:00pm, when I started at the airport at 2pm. So yes, a very long day to a very interesting two days.
And that was my trip. And then it was back to work. It still sucks, in case you know. Caring about what I do has long since passed. I simply do the bare minimum and what I'm told, and leave. I've applied to another internship and am really hoping something comes out of it. But I know not to get excited, because I've been let down before. I guess I'm almost accepting the fact that I'm stuck there for a bit longer...until I think about everything I hate, and then it fuels me again. Oh well; I'm sure it gets tiring to hear me bitch. Hell, writing it gets tedious. So for now, I'll try not to focus on it, and maybe just share anecdotes and stories, rather than bringing out my tiny violin. Here's to new beginnings.
It's the End of the World as We Know It: I hate when a female gives you a high-five. It's always an awkward gesture any way you cut it. The only positive was that though she has a boyfriend, she doesn't hate me, though I never gave her a reason to do so. My lunch bag has seemingly become a part of common workplace folklore, as everyone is amazed at its durability and look (it's made of neoprene "wetsuit" material and expands when more objects are put into it...yes, sexual innuendo noted). It's a sad day when that is getting more play than you.
So pretty much I had to wait in the airport for roughly 2 hours for the rest of my party to arrive (flying out of your own state's major airport on the company's dime isn't so bad after all). After my entire customs debacle (sans the cavity search), I went in search for food. Besides the really filling two half-dollar sized cookies and glass of water I got on the airplane, I hadn't eaten anything in awhile. I was really hoping for some authentic French Canadian food, like Burger King or McDonalds, but unfortunately all I came across was Tim Hortons; apparently the Roy Rogers of Montreal. It was the only place where you could order a sandwich or donuts...or even a combo with a coffee. Since I didn't feel like wandering around anymore, I figured to just order a sandwich and wait until they landed. So I sauntered up to the register, even trying to lay down a smooth game by saying "Bonjour" to the cashier. But either my accent was bad or she wasn't in the mood, because she didn't even respond. Anyway, I ordered the "Deli Trio" special, which was a drink and a sandwich, when the cashier asked, in her French Canadian/English accent, if I wanted "sizz" or something like that, to which I of course replied, "Yes," since you never turn down a French Canadian in their own city no less. She then began to pick out six donuts from underneath the glass case. "This restaurant is awesome," I thought. "If they give me a draft beer for dessert, I'm buying stock in this company." I went with six chocolate glazed, and she placed them on the table. But then some weird things started to happen: she continued to ask me questions and then put six waters on the counter. I knew something was wrong. "Whoa, I think there was some miscommunication. I only wanted one water and a sandwich," I said, in my friendliest tone ever. "But you didn't say that," the cashier said in response, not in a friendly tone. So for the next 30 seconds we argued as to what I ordered and what I should have ordered. Eventually the manager came over and smoothed everything over by only giving me the one sandwich and water combination. Apparently, ordering a "Deli Trio" means you're getting a donut, drink, and sandwich. And "sizz" meant "six." Not the best way to start off a trip. But how cool would it be to get a sixer of donuts with a meal? I smell an American rip-off...
The rest of my group soon came after I ate my sandwich (though I should have told her no mustard. But at that point, I may have been given a roundhouse kick for asking such a request) and wandered around looking for a phone card in two different stores. Mind you, I was wearing a suit, and I see my group wearing jeans and sneakers. Just my luck.
I knew only one guy on this trip. The other two I had no clue what they looked like. I pictured one of them to look like someone from "Beauty and the Geek," complete with glasses and pants pulled up to his chest. The other, I thought would be this graying old fat man. Shows just how wrong we can be. They both introduced themselves, and boy, was I surprised. The "nerd" was this muscular bald dude who looked like he could destroy me in minutes. The other was a 4'11 (at the tallest) balding man with a moustache who looked like he just woke up from sleeping in a dryer. Disheveled and annoyed at customs for asking him too many questions, I instantly knew this would be an interesting two days. Throw in a heavyset black man who resembled Sherman Klump's father from "The Nutty Professor," and you had quite the motley crew.
After exchanging pleasantries we picked up our car for the trip, a very nice Hyundai SUV. Before we could leave though, a thorough body check of the car had to be completed, so we weren't unnecessarily billed for any damage. Since one of our group members worked with Budget Rent-a-Car previously, he went over every inch of the car, from the blinkers to the brakes. All the while, the short man (we'll call Mini-Man) was behind the wheel, seemingly unsure of how to operate the windshield wipers. And he was driving me?
Somehow we ended up making it out of the garage and onto the road. Luckily we had a GPS so we couldn't get lost, even though we had Dale Earnhardt, Jr. driving. He bobbed and weaved out of traffic like Muhammad Ali in his prime, stop signs and traffic lights be damned (well not exactly, but you get the idea). We stumbled onto our hotel's street, but because they were undergoing renovations, there was no sign for the entrance. So we had to drive around the block at least 3 times looking for it. We'd come to where we thought was the entrance: it was a service one only. Another wasn't the right building. All the while, Mini-Man was screaming at everyone in sight (passengers, pedestrians, other cars on the road, a guy in a wheelchair crossing the street). He even wanted to make an "illegal U-Turn" on one of our wrong turns. He began to back up on a one-way street, avoiding looking in the rearview mirror and the cars behind him. We almost had to bribe him to convince him not to do it. "It's just right ahead," we told him. Soon enough, we found it, and as soon as we got out of the car, Mini-Man began to argue with the bellhop about the lack of signs pointing you to the hotel, even though the kid had nothing to do with anything. That was one thing with this guy; he argued about everything. Got the master suite in the hotel? Damnit, he needed a bigger refrigerator. No 90 ounce steak on the menu? Well they better cook the 32 oz. one perfectly or there'd be hell to pay. And he said all of this while he profusely sweated, as if we were in the Sahara Desert, even though it was bout 15 degrees there all day. Couple that with a tendency to over drink and make a fool of himself, and you had one of the most colorful characters I've ever met.
But back to checking in: the very attractive hotel worker (I have a weakness for women named "Vanessa" who wear those stylish glasses) checked us in, we went to our rooms. Let me just tell you how bad these guys abuse our company's money. Instead of staying in a small 3-star room, they get executive suites with desks and mini-bars on the top floor. Me? I get a crappy room with two double beds and a broken thermostat. And forget about TV. Canadian TV sucks; besides showing "Viva La Bam" with course language intact, there's nothing on but hockey and crappy melodramas. The one bright spot was seeing a piece of "Arrested Development"; I really need to watch that show.
That night, we settled on dinner. I found out after I got all decked out that we were just eating in the hotel restaurant. Dinner was interesting. All we talked about was politics and religion. One of the party members, after telling him I was a journalism major in college, thought that was a green light to ask me about every event that's ever happened in the world and asking me for my opinion. When I hadn't heard of it ("You mean to tell me you don't know the history of the IRS?"), he would get upset. He also added "journalism student" to every question he asked me, as if that meant I should have my finger on the pulse of every current event ever. Then I had Mini-Man ordering two "Antifreeze" cocktails in under an hour and then continuously telling me to drink the beer he ordered. Then on my left, was Mr. Klump, doing his best Morgan Freeman impersonation, all the while trying to convert me to Christianity. And yes, I had only known these people (besides Klump) for less than a day. They eventually went to bed but seeing it was only about 8:30, I knew I had to go out and explore the town. I had told everyone I was going to stay out all night since I was only there for the night, but it wasn't as easy as I would have hoped. One, it's weird when you're alone. You don't want to roll up to a bar alone and be "that guy." Two, it was snowing like someone shook a snowglobe and dumped it all over, because it was coming down hard. Tiring of wandering the main strip (as it was within walking distance of the hotel), I settled on a fine establishment called "Super Sexe," which offered tales of "full contact dancing." I'll withhold the details of that encounter, as this is a family site, but let's just say Montreal rules, and I have to go back. And their people are very friendly.
I'll spare you the details of the trip, as it was as boring to experience it as it would be to write it. The trip home wasn't much better. A one-hour flight turned into a five-hour nightmare, as I ended up not getting home until well after 10:00pm, when I started at the airport at 2pm. So yes, a very long day to a very interesting two days.
And that was my trip. And then it was back to work. It still sucks, in case you know. Caring about what I do has long since passed. I simply do the bare minimum and what I'm told, and leave. I've applied to another internship and am really hoping something comes out of it. But I know not to get excited, because I've been let down before. I guess I'm almost accepting the fact that I'm stuck there for a bit longer...until I think about everything I hate, and then it fuels me again. Oh well; I'm sure it gets tiring to hear me bitch. Hell, writing it gets tedious. So for now, I'll try not to focus on it, and maybe just share anecdotes and stories, rather than bringing out my tiny violin. Here's to new beginnings.
It's the End of the World as We Know It: I hate when a female gives you a high-five. It's always an awkward gesture any way you cut it. The only positive was that though she has a boyfriend, she doesn't hate me, though I never gave her a reason to do so. My lunch bag has seemingly become a part of common workplace folklore, as everyone is amazed at its durability and look (it's made of neoprene "wetsuit" material and expands when more objects are put into it...yes, sexual innuendo noted). It's a sad day when that is getting more play than you.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
The Great White North Et Cetera... (Part I)
I plan to have a monster update because I feel I've been slacking in my blogging duties (they may take my membership card and decoder ring away). So I have to catch everyone up on the events of my life (though trust me, it's really not that exciting).
I recently went on a mini-vacation (not really) to Montreal, Canada. I left Tuesday and got back yesterday night. For the most part, it was uneventful. I was only there one night, so it limited me severely in what I could do. In fact, it seemed like I waited at the airport longer than I was even in the country. And let me tell you, going through customs into Canada is like trying to smuggle alcohol into a bar: it seems easy, and you may pull it off initially, but the bouncer, house, or in this case, the country, always wins. I guess I'll give a brief synopsis of what it's like to be an American in Canada:
I recently went on a mini-vacation (not really) to Montreal, Canada. I left Tuesday and got back yesterday night. For the most part, it was uneventful. I was only there one night, so it limited me severely in what I could do. In fact, it seemed like I waited at the airport longer than I was even in the country. And let me tell you, going through customs into Canada is like trying to smuggle alcohol into a bar: it seems easy, and you may pull it off initially, but the bouncer, house, or in this case, the country, always wins. I guess I'll give a brief synopsis of what it's like to be an American in Canada:
- The airport is a lot bigger than you think, and you should always walk straight ahead. I must have wandered in a circle for about 2 hours looking for a place to eat once I landed in Montreal. After I cleared customs (though they asked me a lot of questions, like why I was here on "business" and who I was visiting, etc), I walked straight ahead through the booth to find a downward escalator. Figuring I would find restaurants once I got down there, I was surprised to find nothing but baggage claims, currency converter booths, and airline representative booths. In front of me was another long corridor with two guards at the end (in heavy body armor no less) waving passengers through to the exit door. Now, I thought it wouldn't make any sense to have to exit when I wanted to stay in the airport while I waited for the other parties, I proceeded to turn around. The officer, seeing me, motioned for me to come to the exit. I gave him a half glance and turned around, not thinking twice about it. As I sat on the bench, looking at the airport map, trying to find the "You Are Here" arrow while holding a heavy backpack and sweating like I ran a marathon, I turned around to find the officer standing beside me. Wondering if a plastic glove was going to be put on and I would be brought to a back room, I looked at him. "May I help you?" He said. "I waved you to come over."
I gave him a smile and told him I was looking for restaurants to eat at. "There's no restaurants here," he said. "You have to go to the other side." I thanked him and went on my way, turning around and heading back where I came from. Little did I know how bad of a move this was. To make a long story short, I continuously walked in a circle looking for places to eat, stopping airport personnel and asking for directions, and getting suspicious looks from the customs police. After about an hour of wandering around, feeling like Austin Powers trying to back the golf cart out of the small hallway in the first movie, I dejectedly sat back down on the bench, right where I started. As I debated whether I would ever eat again, who came back to check up on me? Yes, that same officer again. Only this time, he wasn't as chipper and friendly as last time. "Why are you still here?" he said. "I'm a little lost" was all I could stammer out, before adding, "and a little sweaty." Why I said that, I'll never know, but I figured maybe he'd have some sympathy. "I told you before there were no restaurants here," he replied curtly. I nodded and apologized, and finally just proceeded straight ahead to where the exit was. I had nothing to lose by trying, so I went through and was quickly pulled aside by another officer to be pre-screened again in another room. This room looked like an IKEA; the inside was like a warehouse, and they even had a setup that looked like registers and stock used to be in there. I waited patiently to be called to the next officer, and a new line of questioning. It was going to be a long day.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Blame Canada...
Well I'm about to head up north to America's cooler cousin Canada for a few days. I'm flying out tomorrow (on the company's dime) and coming back Wednesday night. Not only do I get to be out of work for those two days, I also get to experience the magic that is Montreal. I've heard some very good things about this fine city, so I'm looking forward to being able to experience them firsthand, if even for a night. Which means I have to maximize my time there completely. Going to meetings all day on Wednesday, while potentially being out all night? Priceless. I'm all about being spontaneous now; so hopefully I get to take in some of the sights.
I have a lot to say, but I really want to get to sleep, even though my flight doesn't leave until 11am (I have to be there about 9am for the unnecessarily long bag check and various unnecessary security checks). I'll update when I get back. Wish me luck.
It's The End of the World As We Know It: The people I'm flying with taking all of tomorrow as a "travel day" and getting no work done. The flight is under two hours; an earlier flight could have easily been arranged. Gotta love people taking advantage of their employer.
I have a lot to say, but I really want to get to sleep, even though my flight doesn't leave until 11am (I have to be there about 9am for the unnecessarily long bag check and various unnecessary security checks). I'll update when I get back. Wish me luck.
It's The End of the World As We Know It: The people I'm flying with taking all of tomorrow as a "travel day" and getting no work done. The flight is under two hours; an earlier flight could have easily been arranged. Gotta love people taking advantage of their employer.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)