Tales from a Tiredling
Beloveds,
I'm sorry for the lax blogging, but this job has sapped me out of all energy, yea, all LIFE as it were, and I am too tired most of the time to even think of writing. Here is a quick synopsis of my life in the past two weeks:
I enter the Office of the Living Dead and sit at my keyboard for 4 hrs, typing nonstop. Then, 30 mins for lunch, which I spend at the Holy Land of Starbucks, then back for another 4 eternities of typing in strings of numbers, which have to be right, or people don't get their paychecks. This task is made all the harder by the woman next to me in the cubicle who, without any exaggeration, is a striking composite of some movie characters.
1. All day she talks to herself—think of the guy in "Office Space" who goes on and on about his stapler, except in her case, it's about a filing cabinet, which I have been forced to assault, due to directions from our boss, who wanted me to alphabetize it, since the woman in question doesn't know that 'Active' comes before 'American' in the alphabet, and other such delightful things.
2. Frightening as that may be, scarier yet is when she does the same in whispers. Hour on end, she whispers "Jesus, oh Jesus" and other such pearls to herself, while sounding and looking unnervingly like the Gollum/Smeagol pairing from "Lord of the Rings."
3. This of course, isn't enough. This week she has added moaning and grunting to her repertoire. She sounds like Moaning Myrtle from "Harry Potter", and she does it constantly. Awwwwww-ooooooHHH. Awwwww-oHHHH. It is an awful sound. I can only describe it as she has swallowed Rodin's sculpture of the Gates of Hell, and it's the moaning of the damned that is issuing out of her.
Through this cacophony of noises, I have to concentrate on entering this vital payroll information. Last week I got strep throat, and was at work with fever all week. My head already feeling like it was filled with hot cottonballs, while someone was slowly sauteeing my brain over a kerosene fire, I had to listen to the chorus of the dispossessed. I can sympathize with them fellers in hell.
Now, I've had my share of crappy-ass jobs. I worked at a burger joint where, after a 12-hr double shift the manager would have me pull the grill off the wall and wash off grease an inch thick from the back wall and range hood, while hot grease dripped into my eyes and hair. I did that for six months. I worked for "Pizza Hut", "Ham-Sweet-Ham", you name it. And lemme tell ya, this is somehow worse than all those gigs. The sheer insanity of the place and my cubicle-mate, the monotony of the job, it's... I dunno. It's bad.
Today, I tried earplugs. Two different kinds, in fact. It seems that my ears are just wickedly tiny, and I couldn't get them working right. Sound was slightly muted, but not enough. What do you think, would they allow me to wear those construction site earmuff thingies? Heheh.
To top it all off, my boss, who is actually very nice, told me I was doing a great job. As I was about to leave for home today, she presented me with an offer letter for a permanent position. Instead of running screaming for the hills (my first reaction), I thanked her politely, and said I would continue on until she found a permanent person, or until October 25, which ever comes first. I explained that I was an actor, and I was doing temping to pay the bills in the lag times between gigs. She was disappointed, but sweet. And for me, my dears, there is LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL. Counting the days, hours, minutes, seconds, till my freedom.
XOXOX,
Anniina
I'm sorry for the lax blogging, but this job has sapped me out of all energy, yea, all LIFE as it were, and I am too tired most of the time to even think of writing. Here is a quick synopsis of my life in the past two weeks:
I enter the Office of the Living Dead and sit at my keyboard for 4 hrs, typing nonstop. Then, 30 mins for lunch, which I spend at the Holy Land of Starbucks, then back for another 4 eternities of typing in strings of numbers, which have to be right, or people don't get their paychecks. This task is made all the harder by the woman next to me in the cubicle who, without any exaggeration, is a striking composite of some movie characters.
1. All day she talks to herself—think of the guy in "Office Space" who goes on and on about his stapler, except in her case, it's about a filing cabinet, which I have been forced to assault, due to directions from our boss, who wanted me to alphabetize it, since the woman in question doesn't know that 'Active' comes before 'American' in the alphabet, and other such delightful things.
2. Frightening as that may be, scarier yet is when she does the same in whispers. Hour on end, she whispers "Jesus, oh Jesus" and other such pearls to herself, while sounding and looking unnervingly like the Gollum/Smeagol pairing from "Lord of the Rings."
3. This of course, isn't enough. This week she has added moaning and grunting to her repertoire. She sounds like Moaning Myrtle from "Harry Potter", and she does it constantly. Awwwwww-ooooooHHH. Awwwww-oHHHH. It is an awful sound. I can only describe it as she has swallowed Rodin's sculpture of the Gates of Hell, and it's the moaning of the damned that is issuing out of her.
Through this cacophony of noises, I have to concentrate on entering this vital payroll information. Last week I got strep throat, and was at work with fever all week. My head already feeling like it was filled with hot cottonballs, while someone was slowly sauteeing my brain over a kerosene fire, I had to listen to the chorus of the dispossessed. I can sympathize with them fellers in hell.
Now, I've had my share of crappy-ass jobs. I worked at a burger joint where, after a 12-hr double shift the manager would have me pull the grill off the wall and wash off grease an inch thick from the back wall and range hood, while hot grease dripped into my eyes and hair. I did that for six months. I worked for "Pizza Hut", "Ham-Sweet-Ham", you name it. And lemme tell ya, this is somehow worse than all those gigs. The sheer insanity of the place and my cubicle-mate, the monotony of the job, it's... I dunno. It's bad.
Today, I tried earplugs. Two different kinds, in fact. It seems that my ears are just wickedly tiny, and I couldn't get them working right. Sound was slightly muted, but not enough. What do you think, would they allow me to wear those construction site earmuff thingies? Heheh.
To top it all off, my boss, who is actually very nice, told me I was doing a great job. As I was about to leave for home today, she presented me with an offer letter for a permanent position. Instead of running screaming for the hills (my first reaction), I thanked her politely, and said I would continue on until she found a permanent person, or until October 25, which ever comes first. I explained that I was an actor, and I was doing temping to pay the bills in the lag times between gigs. She was disappointed, but sweet. And for me, my dears, there is LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL. Counting the days, hours, minutes, seconds, till my freedom.
XOXOX,
Anniina
Labels: Harry Potter
posted by Anniina | 9:08 PM
5 Comments:
It is ONLY 39 days untill I come :)
But you DID get that memo on the TPS reports, right?
I'm sorry your place stinks. I take comfort in it though, that mine isn't too bad ^^
Sorry that your work is so bad. But if you ever plan on writing a book you could always incorperate the person in your cubicle as one of the characters. They sound interesting to say the least. But anyway, I'm sure you'll get through it ^^ Take care of yourself~
Yeah, Mark, I'm CLEARLY management material :P And yeah, Katja is coming on October 29th, and things are always better when she's here, cause we do fun stuff and she's my bestie :) Mophia, glad to be of service. And Riy, I thought about that... seriously thought about that :P
Post a Comment
<< Home