Yesterday, while talking with one of my relatives, answering the unanswerable question, “What do you want to do?” I realized that I have information about my work:
I am not going to be promoted.
A week and a half ago, I had a talk with The Manager. She wanted to know why I was cutting my hours at work. (I don’t want to work anymore than 25 a week.) I told her it’s because I hate the place and it’s making me hate the people I work with and I don’t want that. Why? Because she told me, when we found our Mr. Asshole was going to be our DM, that I had no chance of being promoted. She insisted she never said that. Then she insisted that, if in fact she had, it was a joke. Then she said that she didn’t know I wanted to be promoted. I said I did and asked what I’d have to do to get there. She said that no one in the store is going to be promoted until two shift supervisors are gone. Fired, quit, promoted, or demoted. What are the odds of that happening? Zero. But, she said, there will be a new store in The Town That Jack’s Son Built in nine months that’ll need supervisors, especially ones who know what they’re doing. I’m not movie to that town for an extra buck an hour, and I’m definitely not driving the 100-120 mile (I haven’t measured) round trip for shit pay. No one who lives in Cowtown is going to make that drive, and, probably, none of them want to move their either. Well, she said, they’re talking about opening a store in The Town of Jim in a year, probably. And then she suggested that I work there.
A year? I asked.
A year. I said.
And I walked away from her.
So, I am not going to be promoted.
Unless I wait a year, probably.
Monday, July 25, 2005
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
A Story In As Many Parts As It Takes, The Finale
Ada's Dance
Almost the End In the Middle Near the Beginning In the Beginning
“No worries,” said Chip, picking himself up and dusting himself off.
Ada couldn’t look away. She had run into Chip? How? Why? Was this supposed to be funny? She looked through the haze, but couldn’t see, what she was sure was, Derrick’s smiling--probably laughing--face. What a jerk. She couldn’t believe he would do something like this. She couldn’t believe she had come to this dance with him. How did that jackass convince her to come with him? Never again, she thought. She’d never, ever, do something like this for Derrick.
“Need some help?”
Ada blinked, “What?”
“Do you need some help up?” Chip asked, offering his hand to her.
“Uh... sure.” She took his hand--his firm, calloused, manly hand--and felt him pull her up. A chill ran though her body. This was it, her moment. Time to make him hers. “Thanks.”
“That was pretty wild, huh?” When she was almost to her feet, he grabbed her other hand.
“Sure.” She started to feel sweaty.
“The way you came crashing into, out of no where, you know?” His hands squeezed hers.
“Yeah.” Her stomach folded into itself.
“What happened? Did you trip?” He put one of his hands on her waist.
The music changed to a faster song. Ada’s heart beat was faster than the beat of the song. Three things were going through her mind: touching Chip; not blowing chunks on perfection in a black shirt; and how it was too dark to get a look at his eyes. She didn’t know what color his eyes were and wanted to know.
“Well, my friend, sort of--”
“There you go, back on your feet, right?” he asked, taking his hands off her. “Don’t I know you?”
“Yeah, we’re in, uh, math together.” She wanted to pull his hands back to her body.
“Right. You’re the smart one, right?”
“Not really. I’m more of a music--”
He eyed her in a way that made her knees wiggle and said, “You don’t look as fat here, you know? More pudgy than whaley, right?”
“Really?” She felt her whole body flush. “I didn’t think that you ever noticed me in class.”
“Sure, you always have your hand up and sit in front of me, don’t you? How could I have not noticed?” He started looking around the room.
“Actually, I sit behind you and to the--”
“Yeah, did you seen where Debbie went?” he asked, still scanning the room.
Debbie? Why was he asking about Debbie? Ada thought he should be focused on her, not some slut who only like him for his looks. He need some one who could look beyond his perfect hair, wide shoulders, and rippled stomach. He need someone like her. She knew she could look beyond those things, in time, and learn to lust after the rest of him as much as she lusted for what she could see.
“I don’t think she went down in the crash, do you? She’d have been under me, right?”
“You mean she hasn’t been under you?” Ada asked.
“What?”
“Nothing. I, uh, I don’t see her anywhere.” She admired the silhouette of his jaw as the lights from the DJ booth lowered.
“Your name, it’s like that song, right?”
“Uh--”
“Yeah, that song barbershops sing.” He started to sing, “Sweet Adeline, my Adeline. Right?”
Ada grimaced, “Right, but I go by Ada.” Because she hated that song. That song was the number one thing she hated most because people had been singing to her since her birth. Every new teacher she’d had sang it. Every person her parent’s introduced her to sang it. Every friend she’d ever made sang it to her when they first met, except for Derrick. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if people actually knew what came after the line with her name. Maybe.
“Sure. Yeah, I remember. Yeah. Where is she?”
“Were you dancing close?”
“Huh? No, she said she’s not big on slow dances. She likes the stuff where she can move, you know? She says it’s the way dancing should be.”
If I tits like hers,thought Ada, I’d be afraid of falling out of my dress. Of course, that may be just what she wants.
“That’s probably why she didn’t get knocked over.”
“I guess.”
“I’m surprised you weren’t dancing close together. It seemed to me that she liked to push her body up against yours.” Ada took a small step toward Chip.
“Yeah, sure.”
“So, would you, um, like to, uh, dance with me?” She took another small step.
“What?”
“Just until she gets back?”
“Okay, sure,” he said and started to move.
To Ada, it looked like he was trying not to vomit while holding in an enormous crap. She was a bit scared, but wanted to dance with him. She started to move. Who cared what other people thought, she was dancing with Chip, every girl’s dream. This girl’s reality.
“Chip!” A shrill voice came from the darkness behind Ada. “Where are you? CHIP!”
She stopped moving and turned around. Debbie. Shit. Debbie, with her carefully mussed blonde hair and a Wonder Bra, walking to where she and Chip were dancing together. The only person who could ruin the moment short of Jesus coming back and bringing the end of the world with him.
Ada stepped back, trying to hide in the darkness as Debbie strode up to Chip.
“Where were you?” she asked, shoving him.
“What?” he asked as he stopped dancing. “I’ve been right here.”
“‘Right here’?” She shoved him again. “You should have been with me.” She stepped close to him. “Some geek in a Garfield tie pulled me away and danced with me. With me! Without asking!” She put her arm around his neck. “Don’t let that happen again!” And she kissed him, hard, on the mouth.
“I won’t.” He kissed her.
“Promise.”
“I promise, alright?” They kissed again.
Debbie started to grind her hips into his. Chip started to grind back.
Ada’s eyes felt heavy, but she wasn’t going to cry. Not over him. Not over the guy who picked her up from the floor. Not over the guy who wanted to dance with her. Not over perfection. She breathed in a ragged breath. She wouldn’t cry. Not her.
She wanted out. Her vision was blurry, she couldn’t see where she was going, but started to walk anyway. She bumped into a couple, stumbled through a circle of people, and got a full on blast of fake smoke before she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Ada?”
“Derrick?”
“H-here,” he said, putting her coat over her shoulders. “L-let’s get out of h-here.”
Almost the End In the Middle Near the Beginning In the Beginning
“No worries,” said Chip, picking himself up and dusting himself off.
Ada couldn’t look away. She had run into Chip? How? Why? Was this supposed to be funny? She looked through the haze, but couldn’t see, what she was sure was, Derrick’s smiling--probably laughing--face. What a jerk. She couldn’t believe he would do something like this. She couldn’t believe she had come to this dance with him. How did that jackass convince her to come with him? Never again, she thought. She’d never, ever, do something like this for Derrick.
“Need some help?”
Ada blinked, “What?”
“Do you need some help up?” Chip asked, offering his hand to her.
“Uh... sure.” She took his hand--his firm, calloused, manly hand--and felt him pull her up. A chill ran though her body. This was it, her moment. Time to make him hers. “Thanks.”
“That was pretty wild, huh?” When she was almost to her feet, he grabbed her other hand.
“Sure.” She started to feel sweaty.
“The way you came crashing into, out of no where, you know?” His hands squeezed hers.
“Yeah.” Her stomach folded into itself.
“What happened? Did you trip?” He put one of his hands on her waist.
The music changed to a faster song. Ada’s heart beat was faster than the beat of the song. Three things were going through her mind: touching Chip; not blowing chunks on perfection in a black shirt; and how it was too dark to get a look at his eyes. She didn’t know what color his eyes were and wanted to know.
“Well, my friend, sort of--”
“There you go, back on your feet, right?” he asked, taking his hands off her. “Don’t I know you?”
“Yeah, we’re in, uh, math together.” She wanted to pull his hands back to her body.
“Right. You’re the smart one, right?”
“Not really. I’m more of a music--”
He eyed her in a way that made her knees wiggle and said, “You don’t look as fat here, you know? More pudgy than whaley, right?”
“Really?” She felt her whole body flush. “I didn’t think that you ever noticed me in class.”
“Sure, you always have your hand up and sit in front of me, don’t you? How could I have not noticed?” He started looking around the room.
“Actually, I sit behind you and to the--”
“Yeah, did you seen where Debbie went?” he asked, still scanning the room.
Debbie? Why was he asking about Debbie? Ada thought he should be focused on her, not some slut who only like him for his looks. He need some one who could look beyond his perfect hair, wide shoulders, and rippled stomach. He need someone like her. She knew she could look beyond those things, in time, and learn to lust after the rest of him as much as she lusted for what she could see.
“I don’t think she went down in the crash, do you? She’d have been under me, right?”
“You mean she hasn’t been under you?” Ada asked.
“What?”
“Nothing. I, uh, I don’t see her anywhere.” She admired the silhouette of his jaw as the lights from the DJ booth lowered.
“Your name, it’s like that song, right?”
“Uh--”
“Yeah, that song barbershops sing.” He started to sing, “Sweet Adeline, my Adeline. Right?”
Ada grimaced, “Right, but I go by Ada.” Because she hated that song. That song was the number one thing she hated most because people had been singing to her since her birth. Every new teacher she’d had sang it. Every person her parent’s introduced her to sang it. Every friend she’d ever made sang it to her when they first met, except for Derrick. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if people actually knew what came after the line with her name. Maybe.
“Sure. Yeah, I remember. Yeah. Where is she?”
“Were you dancing close?”
“Huh? No, she said she’s not big on slow dances. She likes the stuff where she can move, you know? She says it’s the way dancing should be.”
If I tits like hers,thought Ada, I’d be afraid of falling out of my dress. Of course, that may be just what she wants.
“That’s probably why she didn’t get knocked over.”
“I guess.”
“I’m surprised you weren’t dancing close together. It seemed to me that she liked to push her body up against yours.” Ada took a small step toward Chip.
“Yeah, sure.”
“So, would you, um, like to, uh, dance with me?” She took another small step.
“What?”
“Just until she gets back?”
“Okay, sure,” he said and started to move.
To Ada, it looked like he was trying not to vomit while holding in an enormous crap. She was a bit scared, but wanted to dance with him. She started to move. Who cared what other people thought, she was dancing with Chip, every girl’s dream. This girl’s reality.
“Chip!” A shrill voice came from the darkness behind Ada. “Where are you? CHIP!”
She stopped moving and turned around. Debbie. Shit. Debbie, with her carefully mussed blonde hair and a Wonder Bra, walking to where she and Chip were dancing together. The only person who could ruin the moment short of Jesus coming back and bringing the end of the world with him.
Ada stepped back, trying to hide in the darkness as Debbie strode up to Chip.
“Where were you?” she asked, shoving him.
“What?” he asked as he stopped dancing. “I’ve been right here.”
“‘Right here’?” She shoved him again. “You should have been with me.” She stepped close to him. “Some geek in a Garfield tie pulled me away and danced with me. With me! Without asking!” She put her arm around his neck. “Don’t let that happen again!” And she kissed him, hard, on the mouth.
“I won’t.” He kissed her.
“Promise.”
“I promise, alright?” They kissed again.
Debbie started to grind her hips into his. Chip started to grind back.
Ada’s eyes felt heavy, but she wasn’t going to cry. Not over him. Not over the guy who picked her up from the floor. Not over the guy who wanted to dance with her. Not over perfection. She breathed in a ragged breath. She wouldn’t cry. Not her.
She wanted out. Her vision was blurry, she couldn’t see where she was going, but started to walk anyway. She bumped into a couple, stumbled through a circle of people, and got a full on blast of fake smoke before she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Ada?”
“Derrick?”
“H-here,” he said, putting her coat over her shoulders. “L-let’s get out of h-here.”
Monday, July 18, 2005
Potter
I tried to resist, but I couldn't.
Yesterday, I bought the new Harry Potter book. It was only $15.78 at Wal*Mart and they only had four copies left.
I had a total of twenty minutes at work to read it, that got me to page 25.
I got off work at 1:00PM.
I finished it at 11:36PM last night.
If I hadn't taken two hours to eat and watch a movie with my parents, I would have been done sooner.
It sucks when 650 pages isn't enough.
Yesterday, I bought the new Harry Potter book. It was only $15.78 at Wal*Mart and they only had four copies left.
I had a total of twenty minutes at work to read it, that got me to page 25.
I got off work at 1:00PM.
I finished it at 11:36PM last night.
If I hadn't taken two hours to eat and watch a movie with my parents, I would have been done sooner.
It sucks when 650 pages isn't enough.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Saturday, July 09, 2005
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Britain
We live in a sucky world, don't we.
For those who don't know, London was bombed today. Here's the AP's account and here's Reuters's account.
Somewhere toward the bottom, the AP says, "Terrorism experts agreed that the explosions had the hallmarks of al-Qaida." Of course, al-Qaida is mentioned at the top of both articles.
Yes, I feel horrible about this, but my cynicism immediately went off and shouted that now no one, or very few people, are going to care about about the letter between Bush Jr. and Blair about there not being chemical and nuclear weapons in Iraq, but intelligence can be doctored. And then there's the whole bizarro thing with the G8 summit in Scotland. Oh, and then the whole British opposition to the occupation of Iraq and how it's going to crumble because they're hurt now.
Should the British people be angry? Hell, yes. I just don't want them to lose their heads and jump into blindly doing everything the government says after this morning.
I'm sad so many people died, but relieved that it was a small number compared to what it could have been, being rush hour and all.
I wish that something positive will come out of this, but I'm pretty sure that only more hatred and violence will be the result. Neither of which seems to be helping the world at all.
For those who don't know, London was bombed today. Here's the AP's account and here's Reuters's account.
Somewhere toward the bottom, the AP says, "Terrorism experts agreed that the explosions had the hallmarks of al-Qaida." Of course, al-Qaida is mentioned at the top of both articles.
Yes, I feel horrible about this, but my cynicism immediately went off and shouted that now no one, or very few people, are going to care about about the letter between Bush Jr. and Blair about there not being chemical and nuclear weapons in Iraq, but intelligence can be doctored. And then there's the whole bizarro thing with the G8 summit in Scotland. Oh, and then the whole British opposition to the occupation of Iraq and how it's going to crumble because they're hurt now.
Should the British people be angry? Hell, yes. I just don't want them to lose their heads and jump into blindly doing everything the government says after this morning.
I'm sad so many people died, but relieved that it was a small number compared to what it could have been, being rush hour and all.
I wish that something positive will come out of this, but I'm pretty sure that only more hatred and violence will be the result. Neither of which seems to be helping the world at all.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Attack
Yesterday, I saw the dipshit DM in the store. So much for the two promises The Manager gave me. (To review, the first was that I wouldn't be scheduled when the dipshit is scheduled to visit and the second is that he wouldn't just drop in.) No one sure why he came, but her was there. I saw him, turned around, walked outside, and sat with my back to the door so I wouldn't have to see his goatee bearded face. Jackass.
I knew I shouldn't go to work today. I should have called in sick. I could tell as I walked out the door that this wasn't a day for working.
I got to the parking lot twenty minutes before work (11:55 AM) and just sat listening to music. I didn't want to go in, but I did. That's when I felt the tightening of the chest, the closing of the throat, and the clammy palms. All the warning signs of a panic attack. All except one time, when I've felt this way, I walk away until I feel better. At parties, I head home or at least outside into the air where I can get some good air. At school, I'd pick up my bag and head out. In my car, I pull over and get out. At work, I couldn't see a way out, so I started working.
I was put on drive-thru and just stood over there and stared out into the parking lot taking deep breaths and telling myself I'd be okay. When I felt worse, I walked into the back room and sat on the step ladder until I didn't feel too overwhelmed.
On my break at two, I just sat there. Assistant Manger #2, who was in charge, asked me if I was okay and I said that I wasn't. She asked me what she could do and I said she could send me home. She laughed. I looked at her and said that I meant it. She said I could sit back there for as long as I wanted. I looked away and played with my headset. When my break was over, I went out front and started taking orders again while staring out into the parking lot.
Eventually, TGMM came in and started talking to me. I wasn't talking back. She asked me how I was. I said bad. She asked what could be done to make it better. I said I should go home. She went and talked to #2 and then came back to say I could leave. So I did and felt bad about it, which made me feel worse.
I sat in my car for ten minutes until I felt like I could safely drive and then drove at least five miles under the speed limit the whole way.
When I got home, I crawled into bed and stared at the wall and ceiling for the next three hours.
I'm feeling better now.
I knew I shouldn't go to work today. I should have called in sick. I could tell as I walked out the door that this wasn't a day for working.
I got to the parking lot twenty minutes before work (11:55 AM) and just sat listening to music. I didn't want to go in, but I did. That's when I felt the tightening of the chest, the closing of the throat, and the clammy palms. All the warning signs of a panic attack. All except one time, when I've felt this way, I walk away until I feel better. At parties, I head home or at least outside into the air where I can get some good air. At school, I'd pick up my bag and head out. In my car, I pull over and get out. At work, I couldn't see a way out, so I started working.
I was put on drive-thru and just stood over there and stared out into the parking lot taking deep breaths and telling myself I'd be okay. When I felt worse, I walked into the back room and sat on the step ladder until I didn't feel too overwhelmed.
On my break at two, I just sat there. Assistant Manger #2, who was in charge, asked me if I was okay and I said that I wasn't. She asked me what she could do and I said she could send me home. She laughed. I looked at her and said that I meant it. She said I could sit back there for as long as I wanted. I looked away and played with my headset. When my break was over, I went out front and started taking orders again while staring out into the parking lot.
Eventually, TGMM came in and started talking to me. I wasn't talking back. She asked me how I was. I said bad. She asked what could be done to make it better. I said I should go home. She went and talked to #2 and then came back to say I could leave. So I did and felt bad about it, which made me feel worse.
I sat in my car for ten minutes until I felt like I could safely drive and then drove at least five miles under the speed limit the whole way.
When I got home, I crawled into bed and stared at the wall and ceiling for the next three hours.
I'm feeling better now.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
War of the Worlds
Saw War of the Worlds today and enjoyed it.
For those who may be curious, while watching it, I couldn't help but think of the whole attack as a cross between September 11th and what the US is doing to Iraq. Pictures of missing family members posted on fences and walls reminded me of the walls in New York after the towers fell. And it was made clear that the alien had come to Earth for something they wanted and just rolled over the native population. Of course, in the end Earth is freed from its conquers, I don't see that happening to Iraq anytime soon.
How does it stack up to the other versions? It's not as good as the book, but that almost always is the case, isn't it. It's better than the 1953 movie. And it's really different from the Wells radio broadcast.
Heard lots of people complain about the ending, but other than the fact that Boston is nearly untouched (I guess even evil aliens are scared of the rich people who live in Brown Stones) and another thing that may ruin something if I wrote it here, I liked the end. It was the end of the book, which is a great twist, if you don't know what it is.
I'm being careful not to spoil this movie for you, but I do want you to know that I had other problems with the movie, but not enough to destroy my enjoyment.
Oh, one that I can tell you about is Morgan Freeman doing the voice over at the beginning and ending of the movie. They could have found a more intense voice actor for the roll. My choice would have been Keith David (Goliath in Gargoyles and Spawn in Spawn), he has one of the best voices out there.
If you want to know more and don't mind spoilers, let me know.
For those who may be curious, while watching it, I couldn't help but think of the whole attack as a cross between September 11th and what the US is doing to Iraq. Pictures of missing family members posted on fences and walls reminded me of the walls in New York after the towers fell. And it was made clear that the alien had come to Earth for something they wanted and just rolled over the native population. Of course, in the end Earth is freed from its conquers, I don't see that happening to Iraq anytime soon.
How does it stack up to the other versions? It's not as good as the book, but that almost always is the case, isn't it. It's better than the 1953 movie. And it's really different from the Wells radio broadcast.
Heard lots of people complain about the ending, but other than the fact that Boston is nearly untouched (I guess even evil aliens are scared of the rich people who live in Brown Stones) and another thing that may ruin something if I wrote it here, I liked the end. It was the end of the book, which is a great twist, if you don't know what it is.
I'm being careful not to spoil this movie for you, but I do want you to know that I had other problems with the movie, but not enough to destroy my enjoyment.
Oh, one that I can tell you about is Morgan Freeman doing the voice over at the beginning and ending of the movie. They could have found a more intense voice actor for the roll. My choice would have been Keith David (Goliath in Gargoyles and Spawn in Spawn), he has one of the best voices out there.
If you want to know more and don't mind spoilers, let me know.
Saturday, July 02, 2005
Favorite
Probably my favorite line from the musical version on The Producers is when Max is in jail singing a song that recaps the play. It's near the end of the song and he says, "Just like Julius Caesar was betrayed by Brutus / Who'd think an accountant would turn out to be a Judas."
The reason that I like it so much? Judas was an accountant. Funny stuff.
PS Finally it's July and the temp here is cresting above 100. I'm looking forward to the amazing sunrises and sunsets fire season brings with it.
The reason that I like it so much? Judas was an accountant. Funny stuff.
PS Finally it's July and the temp here is cresting above 100. I'm looking forward to the amazing sunrises and sunsets fire season brings with it.
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