various

i saw the sign, and it opened up my mind: so at my seasonal job, there's a lot of signs everywhere. but some of them can be a little, um, obvious. i can understand the signs on the broken carts that say, well, "broken carts", because really, they're more of a checklist than a sign, with how they're broken checked off.

but, tuesday i noticed that over light switches, there are signs that say "light switch". i actually stopped and stared at one for around a minute, puzzled. why does there need to be a sign over the light switch indicating what it is? did someone mistake it for a garbage disposal switch? what happened that made the need for these signs to arise? why aren't there signs on the walls that say "wall"?

that's our tax money at work, people.

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one step closer to earth-3 mando: whenever i get back to the delivery office after a delivery, i usually walk in and say "hello" to the dispatcher on duty and sit my ass down. on wednesday, the dispatcher on duty said that every time i walk in and say hello, he thinks i'm a friend of his who apparently i have a similar voice to, we're around the same height, and i peripherally look like him. i told him that i get that a lot and mentioned joolie's encounter (see first comment).

but this made me excited, because now, maybe, just maybe, i can meet my doppelganger, if this friend of the dispatcher is, in fact, the guy that repeatedly gets mistaken for me. but maybe it's not him. maybe it's another guy that looks like me. maybe it's earth-2 mando and he's older than me. maybe he's earth-S mando and is slightly mundane.

there are so many options.

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reserved: at my seasonal job, there are a large amount of reserved parking spots. some are reserved 24 hours, some are reserved from 8 to 5, some are reserved for motorcycles and the like. but it makes me wonder since the agency loves it's obvious signs, why all the non-reserved spots don't have a sign to say they aren't reserved. maybe the non-reserved spots could just have a big sign that says "slutty".

then i started thinking, if i were a parking spot, i wouldn't want to be reserved. i'd totally be a slutty spot.

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overheard wednesday: wednesday we took the first of three tests at my seasonal job. these tests would ensure that we become actual seasonal employees and not fake seasonal employees like we have been. anyway. of the three tests, we only had to pass one to become official-like. in fact, the third test would just be retaking one of the previous tests. that's not a test at all!

i did all right on the first test. my accuracy was 98, and my speed was 18. passing scores were 90 accuracy and 17 speed. so i passed. if i wanted to, i could've just blown off thursday because i was now officially a seasonal employee. if i weren't so anal, my speed would be faster. but i don't trust my typing skills. i can't touch type for shit. every time i try, i have to go back and correct myself. and that's why my speed is borderline. i try to touch type, and then i go back and make sure everything is accurate. also, i've been an editor and proofreader for so long that accuracy is, um, kinda important to me.

anyway. after the test, since every one in my "team" gets along, and i just want to be by myself and not cohort with them, they were all talking about their scores after the test. here's a sample.

douche 1: i need to work on my speed.
douche 2: what was it?
douche 1: only 35.
me (in my head): fuck. you.

douche 3: my accuracy was only 95.5, and my speed was only 38.
me (in my head): fuck. you.

douche 4: 92 and 22.
me (in my head): FUCK. YOU. FUCKING ASSHAT!

i wish they would've all just shut the fuck up. i don't want to know how you did. it reminded me of one of my favorite lucille bluth quotes: "i don't understand the question, and i won't respond to it."

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SWAR: there's one repeated example in our data transcriber practice book where we have to type in "SWAR". every time i see it, it puts a smile on my face and i laugh a little, because it makes me think of swarley. in fact, one time for name, i accidentally typed in swarles barkley.

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no connection to valarie solanas: (written on thursday) i'm feeling particularly scummy today. this week has been one of unobserving hygiene. hair hasn't been washed since tuesday. i bathed today (although later in the day i questioned if that had actually happened), but i didn't yesterday. i brushed my teeth, but i hadn't for the past two days. sleep has now accumulated (if you can even say that) to 15 hours in the past three nights.

i did, however, make a few gains, if only through subterfuge. told my freelance client today that i had previous commitments for tonight and friday that i had forgotten about, so the work i was there to pick up wouldn't be ready until monday. complete bull but now i don't have to worry about working when i get home from work and rushing to turn in work before getting to work.

head. splode.

so now, when i get home tonight, i can enjoy a libation and shut out the work world ... until my 11 a.m. delivery shift tomorrow. sigh.

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chastise: on thursday, me and the other driver on duty were talking to the dispatcher on duty (who is also one of the co-owners) how we often want to chastise our customers for tipping shittily. because, yeah, mommy and daddy are paying their way right now, but when they finish college with their degree in art history and can only get a job as a waiter and live on their tips, then, and only then, will they maybe look back on their sordid college life and think that, if they had tipped better, their karma wouldn't have caught up with them.

i didn't really care too much, though, because my first delivery had a $10 tip attached to it. sure, it was way outside our delivery area, but it was a $10 tip! made up for the lousy tips i made later on in my shift.

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awww: (written on thursday) i was buying beer and pop tarts (don't judge me) and was in line behind an older gent. he was buying flowers and what looked like the makings for a nice dinner. it made me smile a little and almost forget how much i hate this "holiday".

it also reminded me of a conversation i had with my friend rachel about 8 years ago about how we hate this day as singles, but if we were in a couple, it would be a different story, no matter how much we say it won't make a difference when we're single. and it's really kinda true. the only v-day i was in a relationship, it was nice, and we did make a little fuss about it. of course, the memory of the day was ruined once i found out that he cheated on me just a couple of days after.
bah humbug?

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complete fiction: i keep having this dream that clay, the cute dispatcher/driver, calls me to awkwardly ask me out. (this mostly stems from him calling me about a week ago to see if i could cover a shift for him, which i could not.) he's totally cute, and easy to talk to (as are most people at work), but i find him attractive, which by the laws of mando attraction, means he must be obviously straight or, if gay, in a deeply committed relationship.

ahem. the dream is obviously a subconscious ploy to remind myself that i am so not relationship material right now. my act is still not completely together. stable does not me. but it's good that i know and actually acknowledge this, that way the next time i get sulky about being single i can just slap myself into reality.

ha.

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equivalence: am i the human eustace? is eustace the dog me? for some reason, i thought about that this week. we are both largely hateful of most people, yet rather fond of leanne. he and i grudgingly get along, but he'll lash out at me sometimes, much like most people i'm largely similar to.

hmm...

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kiss of death: so the replace smoking girl who started talking to me this week? canned! maybe (maebe?) it's me...

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so jane: there's this girl in my training group that's been reminding me of someone. i didn't realize who she reminded me of until thursday night. she looks like a hispanic version of laura silverman. she really does! it's uncanny. now that i realize who she reminds me of, i want to go up to her, make a T with my hands and say "jane, we can't use that."

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bi-ly thoughts: we have a lot of repeat customers at my delivery job. which is nice. it's nice to see the same faces sometimes and try to make a connection about what they're ordering and how it relates to how they are as a person. and while several of my repeat customers are very hot guys (the dazed and confused quote "i get older, they stay the same age" is starting to be strangely relevant to me), there's this one girl that's so cute. i've made several deliveries to her, she always pays in cash, and she's so ... cute. she reminds me why i had a bi phase.

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rerun: after our tests on thursday, it was a repeat of last week; names called, go to cafeteria, come back at a certain time. and sadly, the exact same reality tv references were made again. very deja vu. the only thing that was different was one annoying douche exclaimed "we made it!" like we had just graduated high school or college or something. at first, i thought "goback" (ala diane court), then i settled on wanting to yell "get oooooouuuuttt!!!" (ala maya rudolph's donatella versace).

yeah.

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the importance of being snackish: the other day, the other driver on duty talked about how he needs to snack on sugary stuff during deliveries because the food we deliver usually makes him hungry. i concur with the thought, but responded with "i just smoke away the hunger." maybe i should start snacking.

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i can't cuuuuuuuuuuuum when you fuck me: lately i've been channeling my inner writer (um, obviously), but now i look at every thing (re: every work thing) and how i could possibly write about it. maybe i've just been reading too much rakoff lately.

i keep hoping to have a margaret cho moment where someone will tell me "you know what, just don't write about this on your blog," which i will proceed to do.

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sigh: on thursday, no deliveries of condoms or lube. i guess people were prepared.

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fuck. this.: (written friday) yeah, fork. me. done. and by done, i mean with the seasonal job. today we had our new employee orientation/laid off paper work session. it was such crap. there's paper work to fill out about paper work! some in triplicate!

plus, we have to get permission to keep a job we may have had before we started there. fuck! you! i don't know. the more and more they talked about working there, the more and more i just wanted to run out of there the fastest i could.

and i know this is really nit-picky but ... they do paper time sheets! this is a major federal agency, and, you know, they do so much shit on paper. it's ridiculous! this is fucking 2008. we're on computers all the time, but virtually nothing can be submitted via computer. it doesn't make sense to me.

oh, and apparently, when we're at work, all we can do is work. no internet access. no fun whatsoever. but you can lightly chat with your co-workers. no dice, man.

so yeah, i think i'm going to spend the next two weeks trying to find a second part-time job to complement my delivery job, because i really, really do not want to go back to the seasonal job. it's so ... soul-less.