12/30/12

The Department Of Motor Vehicles: Part II

DMV

This is the conclusion to my misadventures of getting my tags for my car. I wasn’t planning on this being a two-part entry but the first part of the story ended up being a lot longer than I had originally planned. Go back and read the first part. I went for an oil change and ended up spending over 300 dollars on my car. Pretty expensive oil change. This will be the last part. There is no need for a third. I promise. I will not stretch this out longer. The second day wasn’t as long as the first but it is still enough to talk about. Enough of me rambling. Let’s get to the story and finally let me get the tags to my car. I am determined to be that law-abiding citizen I’ve been craving so much.

When I left NTB, I was still needing my property tax records. I went to print them off but my printer was giving me some issues. I really dislike my printer. I should get a new one but really, who prints crap off anymore? Without the possibly of getting them printed off, I decided to stay home for the night and with the use of my store’s printer and internet, I’ll just access it from there. I really don’t want to head to the annex building to get the two forms I need. I don’t like it in there. It’s not as bad as them DMV but those ladies and usually that one guy are not very pleasant and would rather be somewhere else than at work.

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02/18/10

a fiction of work

This is an old post I made on an old forum I frequently posted on. I felt like sharing it. I will admit, some of it is fiction. Still a good post!


It has been a while since I last posted something of this magnitude. Today is the day it returns. Recently, I have come to discover that I really dislike my job. Elle Oh Elle. I shouldn’t really say “recently”. I have known it for a long time. I just couldn’t come to terms with it. It’s been like this for a while. I usually just shrugged it off as a bad day and cooled at home with a cold one. But the cold ones don’t work anymore. The shots don’t work anymore. The deep breaths don’t work. I even tried saying, “Hoochie Mama!” but that too, was not a fix. It just happens. We all get tired of our jobs and we need to move on.

I am sure we all have been there. We all hate our jobs at one time or another. Some of us hate our jobs since day one. It comes in waves for me. I will like it for a while. I liked my job when I first got it. I was fourteen. I was unaware of what I was signing up for. I practically wrote my name in blood when I signed that application. I remember that day clearly. How? I don’t know. I cannot remember what I did last week but I can remember what I did thirteen years ago. I was cleaning room. It was the big day. I was so excited. I was going to go in for an interview. I was going to win them over with charm and anything else I possessed back then. So I was cleaning my room. I found my way to the closet and started to clean that out as well. At some point, I fell asleep. True story. If I owned a Bible (which is laughable), I would swear on it. I sleep in the strangest places. I can sleep on stairs, on hardwood floors, my computer chair… I’ve slept at school at my desk….I got to tell this side story. I would sleep with my eyes open. Teacher freaked out. He thought I was awake the entire time. It wasn’t until he tried to get to join in on group discussion, he noticed I was sleeping. Okay, back to my strange sleeping patterns. I have slept on the school floor, at the lunch table, I’ve even slept while I took an ASVAB test. They didn’t like that much. Oh…I am not done yet. I’ve slept on bleachers, I sometimes sleep on the bed, I sleep on the couch, I have slept on concrete floors, I’ve taken a nap in the lawn, I’ve slept in an igloo I made, I’ve slept on a coffee table, and oh…I have slept at least standing up once. So it isn’t anything odd for me to sleep in the closet. I haven’t done it since.

Where was I? Oh. That’s right. The closet. (not that kind. I like girls). So I woke up. I combed my hair. I used to part my hair at the side and do this swooshing thing. It was pretty cool I thought. Now, I just wake up, and put on a hat. Or, I save time all together and just shave my head. I shave my head in the winter. But it’s cold! People always say that. Why then? Why not the summer? I started it up in high school and it stuck. So every winter I shave my head. I put on some nice clothes. I walk out and meet my mom at the door. She sighed and shook her head at me. “You can’t go looking like that? You want to look like trash?” She wants me to iron them. I get mad and run to my room. I take them off. Okay. I toss the clothes out of my room and into the hallway. “Iron them please.” And she will. That’s my mom. That’s how she rolls. I wait in room. I eye my room. Nothing was really cleaned. I kept finding things I forgot about and decided to look at them. Don’t you hate that? You really need to clean but find something you lost and spend the next 15 or so minutes looking at it. My mom knocks on my door. I get my nicely ironed clothes and put them on. My mom yells out from the hallway, “Don’t forget a tie.” A tie? Is she serious? I guess a tie will make a better impression. So I grabbed a tie. Amazingly, I tied it myself without any prior knowledge of knowing how. Ask me now how to tie a tie, I couldn’t tell you. I normally keep them tied and just put them on. It saves time. I take a glance in the mirror. I look dashing. Who is that handsome, well dressed man in the mirror? Why it’s me. Nice hair. Never change it. Keep the swoosh. I had style. There is no way they can say no to me. I got a tie on! My pants are ironed! I crack my knuckles and crack my neck. It is time for me make some money. My mom takes me down to the store. This trip was a mistake. I’m taking a ferry ride on the Styx. But what a boat ride it will be.

We pull in the parking lot. My mom asked, “want me to come in with you?” Sure mom. Why not? Maybe I get this job, you can work along side to make sure I am okay. I walk in alone. It was amazing! Look at all the busy people working. They must be so happy having a job. They have to love it. They are all smiling. Joy and happiness was beaming from them. No company would ever tolerate fake smiles. I can smile. You don’t even have to pay me for it. That was then, this is now. You want a smile, hand me a check.

It wasn’t the job I wanted. It was the money. The money was all I wanted. I want money. Money will make me happy. I can buy things. I was 14. I could buy the world! Okay. Maybe I couldn’t really buy the world. Whatever $4.25 a hour will get me, I’ll buy it. Back then, that was a lot of money. It was going to be life changing. I take a seat where the interviews were being held. I glance around. Damn. Why is he wearing a tie too!? What if he gets the job? I check out his pants. He’s got a good chance. His pants were ironed too. But my pants looked nicer. There was another guy with a tie on. What the hell? Does everyone know about the tie trick? But upon further investigation, I noticed he was wearing shorts. No pants on this guy. He lacks the slacks. That’s a plus one for me. There were some ladies there, people older than me and people around my age or just a little older. I sit quietly. My foot is beginning to twitch. It shoots all the way up my leg. Now my whole leg is twitching. It has been a problem for years. My leg twitches. I put my hand on my thigh to get it to stop. But no. It keeps going.

The manager calls some people over. He shakes their hands and looks over their applications. I catch some kid staring at me. Please stop staring at me. It’s really annoying, not to mentioned, really creepy. He must have read my thoughts cause he stopped. Or, I have the power to control minds. Either way, he stopped looking. The room is dwindling down. No one is jumping for joy. Did he tell them no or were they just keeping their cool? I heard my name get called. It shocked me. Okay. It’s time. Here I go. It is time for me to impress this guy and get myself some of that money. I took a seat across from him. He shook my hand. I wasn’t the freak I am now with people touching me. Had I been then, I probably wouldn’t have got the job and probably wouldn’t be writing this for you. He asks about my family. What does your mom do? What does your dad do? School? Why I want a job? I figured those are normal questions in interviews. I was 14. I was a virgin to the working world. The interview was over. It was quick. We parted way and shook hands one last time. The guy who hired me still works there. I am like his greatest achievement. When we had store holiday parties or if the grip and grin tour would come through, he would bring me up. “I hired him. He was only 4 foot and weighed about 75 pounds. Now he is 6 feet and weighs 75 pounds.” He still says that today. He still hold a grudge with me leaving that store.

I told my mom on the way home how it was going to be amazing! A job! Mom! I might have a job! You know how cool that is going to be!? I was on cloud nine at the time. Nothing you could say would faze me. I was sure I was getting the job. I was honest in my interview. I kept eye contact. My mom told me that. Always keep eye contact. So I did. I just had to wait for the call back. I wanted the job. I was so hoping they would hire me. I had a tie on! My pants were ironed! My hair was combed all swooshy like. There was one thing I didn’t thing of. Did he notice my ironed pants?

I cannot recall how much time passed before they called back. But they called back. That means only one thing. He did notice my pants. I was sleeping when they called. The phone startled me. I woke up and answered it. They asked for me. I was all, “Yes. This is me.” I was asked to come in for orientation. I told my mom. She was so happy for me. I got dressed. Ironed pants? Check. Tie? Check. Nice shirt? Check. Swooshy hair? Check. It was time to be a working man. I thought I would be a grocery boy. I figured I would sack groceries. Maybe run and grab carts or something. They had other plans for me. They wanted me to wash dishes. Dishes? Are you serious? Don’t they have women for that sort of job? If washing dishes gives me money, then hand me a wash cloth and point me to the sinks.

I don’t remember all the other people who were hired the same as me but two. I remember those two cause they also got suckered in to the washing dishes thing. One of those two, was the creepy kid who was staring at me. But this isn’t about him. I will save that for later. This was going to be the start of something great. I have a job! I was fourteen and I got a job. This can never get bad.

I was wrong. I was so very wrong.

I spent ten years at that job. I have seen so many people come and go. I watched people leave and laughed. Why would you leave? This is such a great job! I get to eat all day and I am getting paid for it. I should have paid for the food, but never did. It wasn’t like I ate a full meal. I snacked a lot. That was the best perk of this job. I met some great people I am still friends with there. I met my first girlfriend there. She later dumped me. You’re probably wondering why. Or maybe I told you before in a past post. But she broke up with me because of work. Ouch. Work can ruin relationships. That’s not good. I almost died at work twice. Not only did work ruin my relationship, it also is a hazard. I missed a lot of family functions because of work. I worked every holiday. This isn’t what I signed up for. Can they maybe put how disastrous this can be to a person in fine print; I would have never agreed to work here. But no one reads fine print. Like when you have to read all those boring RoC’s or agreements to forums or programs, we all just scroll and click, “I agree.” No telling what those things say.

I am now beginning to see why people hate their jobs. Those people I saw when I walked in for my interview…those so-called smiles? Those weren’t even real. I was suckered in to what I thought was a happy environment. But the money was good. I was getting raises every year. A few times, I got two raises. I was their golden boy. I would come in when they wanted me. I stayed late. I would come in early. Looking back now, I was getting taken advantage of. I feel dirty. I was being used. All I look forward to was Friday. Friday meant payday. The checks just kept getting bigger and bigger.

Soon came full time. Wow. That means I work 40 hours a week and get even more money. But the money wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I wanted more money. So I took on a second job. Two checks paid to me now. I was living it up. I watched my bank account grow. But money wasn’t making me happy. Sure money is nice but it wasn’t making me happy at all. What was making me happy was the people I worked with. They kept me there. As the years passed, I watched them all leave. They switched jobs or quit cause it sucked. Who is the sucker now? I was getting to hate my job a lot more now. I had no one there to talk to. I did but I didn’t like them. They weren’t my friends. It was about time for a change. Maybe something different will make me happy. So I take a chance and put in for another store. I just had to do another interview.

I had everything I needed. I walked in with the confidence that the job was mine. I mean, It was an easy job. I was to stock meat. Anyone can do that. I know it was something that wasn’t challenging enough for me. I just couldn’t deal with the stress the other position gave me. I’m young. I’ll leave the stress for the older people. I have been stressed for too many years. While some kids were playing tag or football, or whatever the hell it was that kids played, I was working. I never had a childhood. I decided to work. That was a bad choice on my part. But working is good. I just think I started a little too early. I am sitting outside the manager office. I am looking at the pictures of the corporate people. I look at the positive, “smile” and “be nice to the customer” signs. I never saw those at my old store. Maybe that’s why no one at my old store did either of those things. They did smile but it wasn’t real. So we’re not going to count that one.

He calls me in the office. Now remember my last interview? The questions about my family, my life, school? Yeah…he didn’t ask those. He asked different questions. Lots of things have changed in 10 years. He asked the questions that are handbook style. He wanted to know who I work for? (the answer is “the customer.”) He writes my paycheck. That’s what I hear all the time. He’s not paying me enough then. The manager wanted to know what the must important thing is. Again, the answer was the customer. This went on for about another four or five questions. I was going to ace this test. I mean interview. He asked about my goals. I don’t have goals. I don’t know. Not to die this year? That has been my goal for the last few years. It’s an easy goal. He wanted to know where I see my self in 5 years. Five years is a long time. Then he asked about 10 years from now. If I didn’t know where I would be in 5, I sure as hell won’t know where I will be in 10. The ‘not dead’ answer, didn’t go over very well. I try my best to make light of all situations ar work. I work with the more boring people. They have no sense of humor at all. Or if they do, it surely isn’t my style of humor. Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to joke in the interview. The interview was over. He leaned back in his chair and relaxed. He put his arm behind his head and stretched. Now we were going to be friends. Just two guys kicking it back and chatting. It was now a “you know this person?” thing going on. We got in the topic of my first manager. He was a really nice guy. He was married. He had a little girl. He ran a great department that made money. He was a really nice guy. But it turns out nice guys like blow. He did some bad things. He held up a gas station and now is serving time in an Iowa jail. I don’t know if he is out yet. After hearing about all that, he is still one of my favorite bosses. After our little talk of the past, he shook my hands and I thanked him for his time.

Days pass.

So I am at my job and they call. I got the job. I am 14 again. I got more money. A raise came with the transfer. More money is awesome. Now I can even better things. But will the money make me happy? Will this job make me happier? How the hell did I get it anyway? My interview sucked. Was it my tie? I’ll go with that. The tie is an amazing tool. The last week I was there, I had not a care in the world. I really didn’t. I walked around like I was king. I was getting out this joint. The other store is seen as the better one. All the good people go there. I counted the days down till the very last one. I got there and did nothing. Not a single thing. I just shrugged and was all, “okay. I don’t care.” I clocked out, [fngr] the store and headed home. It was a sad day leaving. I miss a lot of the customers I served. They got me a card and all signed it. Nice to know I was noticed by someone.

Tomorrow was going to be the start of a new day. The start of a better and less stressful job.

The only thing that sucked about the new job was being the new guy. You don’t know anyone. It could be a good thing too. I knew a few people but we worked at opposite ends so we hardly so each other. As the days passed, I got know people. They didn’t seem that bad. They were a lot friendlier than the other people at the other store. To make things better, my job was great. I got there and did my job and left. I didn’t have to stay over to finish things. I didn’t have to come in to play catch up. I did my thing and left. I even had weekends off. Those weekends are all a blur. Lots of alcohol was consumed. My boss began to really piss  me off. He would have me filled something one day. The next day, empty that same one, move it somewhere else and refill it with another product. The next day, I had to do it all over again. This went on for months. Stop moving the crap around and people will find it. Everything should be in its place.

That was always my saying. I said it all the time. My friends thought it would be funny to screw with me one night. I passed out one night when they came over. They went wyld and moved things all around my apartment. I found my microwave in the tub; my clothes were on my bed. Papers were taped or thumb tacked to the ceiling. I had a Boba Fett life size stand up board…he was lying on my bed. I love star wars. Best movies ever. But I lost Boba Fett. I got in a fit of rage one night and tore it to pieces.

One of my couches was turned over. The TV was turned around. Oh…my silverware and all utensils were sprawled out on my dining table. Needless to say, I was pissed. Nothing was in its place. Things need to be in their place. Even if they are shoved under the bed, I know where it’s at. Don’t touch my things.

After six months, I began to hate it. It was boring. It was the same thing everyday. My manager noticed my lack of enthusiasm and asked what I wanted to do. I’ll go back to doing what I did before but do it here. And that is what I did. It was like I never left. I jumped right in. I didn’t forget a thing. Things were looking up. My manager was great. He was blow free. I have worked with 8 different managers. He is like my fourth favorite. So I was back to doing what I hate. I left that crap cause it brought me stress. At least I was stress free for six months.

He ended up leaving. They decided to make me acting manager. I did the acting manager thing before. I hated it. But thanks for giving me this opportunity to have stress again. I missed it. The new manager came in one day to check it out before he started. He met me for the first time. He told people I looked like I was white trash. Okay. So maybe I didn’t do the swooshing thing with my hair that day. Maybe I didn’t shave the 4 hairs on my chin. I can take that. He had this mole on the back of his head that was almost like a third eye. Oh…and he had this gap in his teeth. That’ always irked me. He was always concerned about me and him. He always thought I was mad at him or that I hated him. He was at least right with me hating him. He was the kind of person who offered you gifts and money to buy your friendship. He was also the one who was telling me I couldn’t leave for my grandpa’s funeral. “Why!” He had this real whiny voice when he wasn’t getting his way. “Cause I never really saw him when he was alive. I figured it would nice to see him when he’s dead.” He called me heartless and stormed off like a pissed off princess. He liked to touch people. Not like a bad touch. I think he was the icing on the cake for the “don’t touch me” thing I got. I can’t discuss it…it is too traumatic. What he did was horrible.

He left. I cheered. He asked if I would miss him. “not really.” Then I walked away. I haven’t seen him since. Life is good.

Things were somewhat looking up. I liked the people I worked with. We all got along. We had fun together. New boss arrives. Everyone is on their toes. We normally are when a new boss starts. Is he going to be a jerk? Will he be cool? Turns out, he was/is the coolest boss I have ever had. The blow boss was great to work with, but this guy. Coolest guy ever.

I decided to apply for a different job. Same store, different position. I was in my normal nice shirt and tie and my nicely ironed pants. No swooshing hair this time. I had it shaved off. It went well. At least I thought so. He asked the questions about goals and where I see myself in so many years. He made his decision that day. I was at home and he called me. I didn’t get it. I was a little mad but it passed. What he said to me, sent me into a rage I still have for him and for the store.

Him: You work tomorrow?
Me: Yep.
Him: So….uh…we’ll see then, right?

He thought I was going to quit. When I quit, I think I would go out in style. I need to make it something they will always remember. I had one guy quit with a text message. Then forgot he quit. Why would my manager say that? Did he really think I was going to quit over not getting a job? Thanks for having faith in me.

So my current boss is leaving. I see why. So I figured maybe it is time for me to leave too. I decided to start looking around for other jobs. I applied at a few places. It is a big decision to leave. I’ll won’t be making the same amount of money. As much as I say money isn’t important, it is. Money is always important. My mom always says it isn’t. Why would people want millions of dollars? I bet they aren’t happy. No mom. I bet they are. It’s like when she watches, “deal or no deal’, she likes to figure in taxes. “Why are they so happy? They aren’t getting a million. Think of what it’ll be after taxes.” I can figure it out. It’ll be a lot of money still. Money is important. It was important to me when I was 14 and it’s still important 14 years later. Which is why I have this problem. Do I suck it up and stay at my job and be unhappy making good money or leave and go somewhere else and be happy with less money? I luckily found a place that was offering a little less than what I make now. It seemed like a job for me. There is no food involved. That is always a plus. A job where I don’t have to cook will be like heaven. I’ll never get to experience heaven, so that’s the closet to the feeling I’ll ever get.

The interview went nice. And you know what? I didn’t even wear a tie. They liked the job experience I had. They liked how I have stuck with the same job/company for so long. They want people like that. Should I have told them you’ll get at lest 14 years out of me before I hate it? I didn’t. I left that part out. The guy was really nice. I kept eye contact with him too. But eye contact now, is a lot harder than it was before. Now my eyes like to wander. Plus, when I stare at people so long, I began to look through them. I need to look away. So I did that. He room was pretty bare expect for some award crap on the wall and a picture of a waterfall with a rainbow over it. I liked his tie though. It was green. Green is a nice color.

You know they asked that question in interviews sometimes? They ask what your favorite color is and you can be wrong. True story. I was told a lady was asked that question and said “red”. She didn’t get the job because of that. Thankfully I like Green. Green is the color of money and everyone likes money.

I waited a few days and got a call back for a second interview. I didn’t even know people do second interviews. But oh well…it works for me. I told some people at work about it. They are upset that I might leave. The managers don’t know. I don’t feel like telling them till I decide. Then it will be their problem. So I am back at the place for my second interview. It goes over well for the most part. They can’t pay me what they said they could. They said I need a little more experience and time before they can review me and maybe, maybe being his keyword. Maybe, give me a raise to what they originally offered.

I got really depressed hearing that. But it was the best offer I have got at all the places I applied at. I applied at lots of places. “We can’t pay you that!” One lady, chuckled and said, “Most of our managers don’t even make that.” The guy said he would make a decision and call me back later that day. I don’t know how many people applied but hopefully there wasn’t many. I was leaving his office and heading out the front doors. That’s when I decided to not take this job. It took me a minute for my brain to click, but I knew the guy walking in. Of all things, he was wearing a tie. He looked the same. He was just a little heavier. Remember the kid I told you about who had ESP and was reading my mind? You know….the kid who was staring at me! Yes! Him! The dude walking in was him.

I said hi. He said hey. He works there. I said I was applying. He was all, “cool! It’s a really great place to work.” We said our goodbyes and parted ways. Damn. I don’t like that kid. Not one bit. If I come here, I am going to be unhappy still. I will not work with this kid or around him. So I waited for the guy to call me back. Sure enough, with the luck I have, he offered me the job. I declined it and told him that an opportunity has opened up at my current job that I am filling.

So my job hunt will continue. I need to find a job where no one will know me. I want to be the new guy again. I want to start fresh. I know too many people. Too many people know me. Oh well…it’s just a job. I am just going to suck it up and make the best of it. If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t have had my mom iron those pants. Oh…I would have kept the swooshy hair cause I still think that’s stylish.