I mean I wake up in the morning and my pajama top is bunched up around my neck exposing my supple yet stunning breasts to the bright morning sun. Blankets and sheets are unceremoniously ripped off the bottom of the bed and laying on the floor. And then my bedspread is somehow wrapped around my head like a giant Carmen Miranda turban.
I mean WTF? How does this happen? I don’t go to bed like that. At night, I’ll have everything all tucked in. I’ll be reading my “Art in America” magazine in bed with my teddy bear. Guardcat will be up on the windowsill blinking complex secret codes into light beams sent down by aliens….
Truth is, I’ve been trying to become a responsible citizen. I started a new job today. Well, not exactly. I went to the orientation of a new job at the ungodly hour of 8:30 a.m. You mean people are actually awake at this time? That’s just freakin’ weird. I don’t think I’ve been awake that early since my art conference last May.
Now don’t get all excited. Its just a very very very P/T job, as in I’m not exactly looking on the internet to buy a new house or anything. In fact once I tell Section 8 I’m working like 7 hours a month they’ll probably lop $100 off the money they pay towards my rent. And food stamps will cut me off. And Medicaid will raise my spend down by $300. And then I’ll be poorer than when I was on disability. The government punishes you, when you make an effort. See how that works?
Anyways, I was called by the woman at the Crazy Crazy place last week. I went in for an interview Thursday. I wasn’t all that thrilled or interested in working with mentally ill people again. That was one of the reasons I had originally left my other job. I wanted to work amongst the healthy, hoping that maybe some of their healthy might rub off on me. But then that didn’t work out. And I’ve been unemployed for over 14 months now. Yay me! 🙂
So I went to the interview last Thursday sorta like you’d go on a date with somebody you’re just being nice to. I mean it actually felt like when I went on my one and only date with Harold the Geek. You know, all polite and nodding. Did I feel guilty about doing that? A little. Do I feel guilty today after going through all the orientation stuff? Absolutely. But wow, somebody actually wanted to hire me…I better hurry over!
Have you ever heard anyone sound so apathetic? Me either.
So I went down to the orientation this morning. I was pretty much Dawn of the Dead material. And the H.R. person was one of these chipper high energy people handing me piles and piles of papers in numeric/alphabetical/astrological order to read and sign. Did I know what I was reading? Barely. And everything was timed down to the absolute second. She’d say, “Okay, I’ll let you read this and be back at 9:42 a.m.” And I’d nod at her, faintly smiling and then she’d leave and I’d look at all these things that said stuff like “quarterly audit summaries…director of continuous quality improvement….natural person operator.’
What’s a natural person operator? I’d much rather be an unnatural person operator. Bwauhahaha! Because I had absolutely no idea what all this corporate double talk meant. I take drugs, lady. I could only be the director of continuous quality improvement if you gave me like 1000 mg. of ibuprofen and 3 massages a week.
I did get a pee break about 10:04:57, thank goodness. And got to get a cup of water and a slice of banana NUT bread (get it?). Although I was really nervous, since the ever vigilant HR lady was watching me slice it and I was all touching it and pieces were falling on the floor and I think I licked my fingers….right after that video about germs. Gah!!
I finished at 10:54: 32 a.m. and got a letter from the HR chick detailing all the things I STILL had to do, like fingerprinting and TB testing. My god, I felt like I was getting a job at the frickin’ Pentagon.
Next stop? Getting stuck with a needle. Of course finding the place in the basement of the state building was problematic. So why not take another pee break? Great idea, witty! Unfortunately, it was a dark, dank bathroom and I was suddenly aware of some rather urgent grunting and heavy breathing in the next stall. At first I thought, well, you know. A little two finger rumba. But then when I started feeling angsty and hurried out, I saw a cleaning woman in there. Gee, I never made those noises when I worked at the yuppie grocery store. How gauche.
So I started searching for the Health Department. I thought it was room 30, but it was locked. I was frustrated and tried banging on the door. People were walking by looking at me weird. Finally some filipino cleaning guy stopped and said, “You…paper”. And I’m like “What?” Him: “You!…paper!” Me: “wha-tt-t-t” and I happened to glance down and there was a long roll of toilet paper trailing out of my pants.
If I were an astronaut, there would have been a very distinct “Houston We Have a Problem” and then I would have just opened the hatch and flown off into space in total embarrassment. How long had it been there? Since my most recent trip to the bathroom with grunty woman? Or since the orientation and my nutbread snack with the HR dominatrix?
Fortunately, it was a fairly dark hall, so I just snatched that errant shameful piece of Charmin out of my delicate yet sexy buttcrack and crinkled it up and of course, recycled it, since, well, you know, we’re all green, in these parts these days.
So I finally found the Health Department office and sat with all the pregnant teens and wino guys for about 5 minutes reading a New Yorker. I figured reading a New Yorker would at least put me back on the road to relative coolness. Baby steps, people. Baby steps.
And then I had to go get finger printed, fercrissakes. Can you imagine? For a 7 hour a month job. Its not like a stole the Mona Lisa or anything. Although I’d probably steal a Frida Kahlo. I’m so much more into Frida Kahlo.
And of all places to get finger printed? The main mental hospital in town. And could I find the office? Hell no. Its a big place. I drove around the block eight times. First I had the address wrong. Then I realized, hey, I couldn’t even see the addresses. Then all the parking lots had no parking or we’ll tow your ass signs. And then I asked a cop where the office was. Him: “Second building.” Me: “Second building from what?” Him: “Second building from the right.” Me: “The right of what?” And then he points…like towards California. Me: (to myself) “Forgeeeeetttttt it!!!!!!!!!!!” and screeched off like a total asshole.
I finally ended up parking about three blocks away and walking in snow and what do you think? I get there and the one paper I needed was back in the 300 page orientation package in the car. So I trekked back to my car and just drove over to the damn security office whose cops I think were extras from “Reno 911”. The guy doing my prints, told me according to my thumb print I was going to have a long life. Ummm, ok. See any rich husbands in there, Sylvia?
Anyways, it was finally all over by about 1:30. I still have to cough up a high school diploma and see if I have TB (just no cable) and see if my fingerprints will somehow lead them back to my blog. Because we all know how much employers love reading their employees’ blogs.
All this for a job, I’m not sure I want. Dang, what have I gotten myself into now.