Wise Words:
When life gives you lemons -- PUCKER UP!
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Friday, April 25, 2003
Got careers? Can it.
OK.... time for me to bitch. Ever notice how I blog when I'm pissed?
Earlier this week I received a call from "Leanne" @ the Temp Staffing Office. (I had applied to the TSO a long time ago just because I read an ad in the paper that one of their companies needed a multi-lingual adminstrative person; when "Leanne" told her female coworker that I spoke several languages and listed those languages, the woman replied very snootily: "Ahhhh . . . but NOT German." Well excuuuuuuuuuse me for speaking everything but der kitchen sink.) She calls to tell me that a company needs an adminstrative assistant that can speak, of all tongues, Chinese. Entirely befuddled by this news -- Why would anyone in the sleepy Palmetto State want someone who uses chopsticks as more than drumsticks? -- I blandly agreed to send an updated resume to her. Lo and behold, the company wanted to interview me, and so I agreed to meet the representative of the company, a woman named "Tonya," at 11 AM this morning.
Now. We all know that Ditto does not like waking early, nor does he like sharing roads with drivers more than reckless than he. (Hard as that is to believe, such people do exist.) But everything was fine until I stepped out of the house, turned on the engine, and tried wiping the previous evening's downpour from the windshield. For you see, the rubbery part of the wipers -- the part that actually makes contact with the windshield -- had come loose, and thus our poor Ditto had no choice but to drive with a besmudged, soiled windshield and a partially visible view. And as though that wasn't enough for ill-humored Fate: half an hour on the road and halfway to my destination, the weather took a turn for the worse and the gray clouds lingering above the stretch of highway I rode decided to let loose with wetness.
Il pleuvait comme une vache qui pisse.
And not only was the vache pissed. I was pissed, because that meant not only were the slow motherf*ckers on the road slowing me down, but so was Mother Nature. It wasn't the worst that could've happened, but it did freak me out because my family had a terrible experience once. We were driving home late one Sunday evening from Atlanta, GA, in the middle of a HUGE downpour, when our windshield wipers stopped working. They swiped the window one last time, laid down... and didn't bother to rise again. The wipers were evidently R.I.P. -- and we were getting there soon, if anywhere. We couldn't judge even how close we were to the cars in front of us -- not good at all. Very, very lucky were we when my mom spotted an exit sign through the rain; we made it safely to a gas station and called in a tow truck from there. It's a miracle my dad was even able to keep the car between the white lines.
Anyways, back to the present. Recalling from my sophomore days that a journey from my home to the abode of the Paladins took about an hour, I left just around 10 AM. My intended destination this time would be slightly closer to me than FU, so it would've been just about right time-wise. BUT by the time I reached the city limits of my destination, it was already 10:54 AM; at 11:12 AM I had given in, pulling into a parking lot just down the street from my supposed end-point and calling the office to apologize.
It doesn't end there. Hindsight is always best, of course; perhaps I should have told "Tonya" that I had car trouble, but considering that this was a company that sells car parts (help me: is this not an instance of irony?) she probably wouldn't have bought the alibi. I ended up telling her that I had trouble finding their offices -- but then yours truly -- yours truly stupid -- told her where he was, to which she replied, with a condescending snicker: "We're in the building just down the street."
Now then. It turns out that I wasn't supposed to meet with the name given me, with "Tonya" -- rather, I was supposed to meet with the President of the company, and he had already left for lunch by the time I called. Ahem. Thanks for letting me know that I wasn't just meeting with a supervisor, "Leanne" -- care to tell me next that the company really sold dog food instead of car parts? "Tonya" offered to reschedule; considering this was an appointment with the President of the company, and assuming that the President of the company would be a busy man for the rest of the day, I assumed that she meant that she would help me to reschedule a meeting for the coming week. And thus, thinking that I had done all I could for the day, I drove back home -- yes, the way back took a full hour -- undressed, and sight-read a Beethoven sonata movement, one that I've been working on with Yana (to be addressed in the next entry) for the past week.
It was JUST. MY. LUCK. that, back in my ordinary civilian clothes -- and, more importantly, back home -- "Tonya" called to ask me if I could make it back to the office within the hour. Yours truly knew that it would be amazing if he could even make it in an hour in the afternoon rush traffic, and thus told her that he wouldn't be able to make it. He also told her that he had to get his car fixed, and probably should have explained why (Ditto does not like dying). But she didn't seem interested, didn't really seem to give a damn anyway. Her last words to me were flavored with a mild but an incredibly, genuinely fake enthusiasm: "Well, best of luck to you."
(My last words to her: "Um . . . thanks?")
I'm willing to bet someone has put a curse on me and my employment opportunities. My first interview went very well -- but down the street from my proposed place of employment was a "Redneck Shoppe," I shit you not; along with the sign proudly proclaiming the name of the establishment was the Ol' Stars & Bars. During my drive to my previous interview, my right eye started to twitch and it stubbornly continued until I had returned home. (I'm sure the interviewer thought I was a drug addict.)
So either Lady Luck has something against me . . . or . . .
20:56
Sunday, April 13, 2003
I forgot to mention that I'm not happy that Leslie Cheung is gone. Watching Farewell My Concubine, I kinda had the feeling he liked drag... ok, no more humor. Leslie was an awesome person.... too bad I'm one of the diaspora that didn't get to see him on his tours.
Thanks to Fiona for posting about this tragedy.
And one more thing about China: it's a People's Daily article but interesting nonetheless.
(I personally don't like the sign; a different dictionary tells me it specifies the buttons on a Mao jacket.)
15:19
Has it really been nearly a week since I posted? Damn, what has happened to my blog ethic?
Unproductivity must be my second name, because god knows I do a lot of it.
I really should look for something to do over the summer. Or maybe right now.
14:35
Monday, April 07, 2003
BOOM! BOOM!
While I'm busying myself by being a general lazy ass, watch this music video. Even if you're not a fan of heavy metal, it's something worth listening to.
Windows Media Player is required for the above; for the video in Real Player format, click here, and for those who prefer QuickTime, here's the link.
Visit the artist of the video here.
16:58
Saturday, April 05, 2003
There's no point in keeping this oath any longer. Bush is throwing the weight of the United States around Iraq, demolishing buildings, families and, of course, lives. And since I am but a lowly citizen of this most powerful nation (well, at least currently) on the planet, certainly with no reins on our government like our dearest tyrant has -- I have no choice but to watch the evening news (diluted as it is) and wince that others in the world are experiencing this destruction of their national, civil and community infrastructure. I hate Saddam as much as the next person, but I sincerely don't believe that force is the way to get him out of Baghdad. AND ESPECIALLY WITHOUT THE CONSENT OF THE UNITED NATIONS. But what do I know -- I'm not following in my daddy's footsteps and I'm not trying to get my name in the history books. (Well, not yet.)
Anyways... time for me to get back on the blogging bandwagon. As if there's anything to blog about. One thing I ought to do is try revamping the page a little, if nothing but with some links. If I can get my ass to be productive. To be productive, to not give a fuck about the rest of the world and just worry about making money and getting the best job and the most ass-kissing...... sigh.
01:39
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