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Damn, Now I’m Gonna Have to Start Wearing Pants Again

Fly the friendly blog.

Well, I went and did it. I took a job.

Okay, that’s a bit misleading. I suppose I didn’t ‘take’ a job, per se. That makes it sound like I barged into some office, all commando-style, and ripped the employment away from some poor unsuspecting sap. Like I held him down and gave him a noogie, saying, ‘Stop firing yourself. Stop firing yourself.‘ and then stole his job away. But really, it wasn’t like that. Honest.

No, in truth, I was offered a job, free of charge. All I had to do was accept it, and write my name on the dotted line.

(Well, okay, it was really a solid line, if I’m going to be honest with you people. (For once.) And frankly, it’s been quite a while since I’ve seen a dotted line for signing. Where did this saying come from, anyway? Was there some shift from dotted to solid signing lines a few years ago, and the vernacular just never caught up?

Or was there a famous dotted line-containing document, and people just assumed they were all that way? Like the Magna Carta, for instance — did it have dotted lines for signing? That was for-frickin’-ever ago, too. Did they even have lines back then? Or words? How the hell did I get onto this topic, anyway?)

Okay, lost my place. What was I talking about? Ah, my brand spankin’ new position. Right.

(Not that it’s a ‘spanking position’, by the way. That’s just a figure of speech. I don’t expect any sort of ass-touching of any kind at this job, much less being asked to ‘assume the spanking position’, or asking others to do likewise. Oh, sure, there might be a little pat on the rump now and then for a job well done, and I certainly expect to do my share of ass kissing. But spanking? No. Not in the forseeable future. Sorry to get you unnecessarily lubed up over that. Down, boy.)

Anyway, it looks like I’ll start in a couple of weeks. In the meantime, I’ve got to get orientation taken care of, and go in for a checkup and some tests. My new employer’s a hospital, see, and so they want to make sure that no one who comes in is… um, sick. Even though a hospital is full of sick people, all the time. They know how to handle that sort of thing. So I’m not quite sure why the people working there can’t come in with a touch of pneumonia, or a bit of tuberculosis. I’d think that would be a fantastic way to recover, while you’re working. You could keep your mind off the yellow and black shit you’re coughing up by getting in a couple of hours of work in between the heavy sedation and painful treatments. I’d think they’d encourage that kind of thing, actually, rather than trying to eliminate it. Makes sense to me.

But I suppose some of the patients there are hanging on by a thread as it is, so it’s probably not a good idea to introduce any new scary systematic diseases into their lives, either. So I guess I can see both sides. In any case, I’ll have to go through the testing wringer next week. Hopefully, there won’t be any surprises.

(Lord knows I have enough crippling diseases as it is, without hitting the germy jackpot again. Those little bacterial bugs and viral vermin can suck on my Leftwich, you know what I’m sayin’?)

So, I can take the next couple of weeks to relax, and really let myself go. I can finally stop answering the phone again, and thank fuckin’ heaven for that. In the past two days alone, I’ve talked to twelve people trying to sell me shit, or convince me I’d won something, or looking for cash. Bitches, bitches, bitches — all of ’em!

(Even the Boston Globe called, for about the thirteenth time this summer. Those assmunchers just won’t give up.

Me: Hello?

Them: Get the Globe! Get the Globe! Only two dollars, for a limited time!

Me: No, thanks.

Them: But it’s only two dollars. Two dollars!

Me: Really, no thanks.

Them: Well, how about the Sunday Globe, then? Only seventy-five cents! Far less than newsstand price!

Me: Nope. Not today, thanks.

Them: But you can’t beat this price! It’s amazing!

Me: No. Look, just no, all right?

Them: Everybody loves the Sunday Globe! There’s comics, and local news, and all sorts of goodness!

Me: Look, I’m not interested, all right?

Them: Okay, but just Sunday? It’s a really big paper! You’ll love it!

Me: Damn it, no.

Them: All the cool kids read it! Try it, you’ll like it!

Me: Not gonna happen.

Them: All the cool kids read it! Try it, you’ll like it!

Me: You just said that. What are you, some sort of hypermanic Annoy-O-Bot or something?

Them: All the cool kids read it! Try it, you’ll like it!

Me: Look, no. I’m hanging up now.

Them: Get the Globe! Get the Globe! Only two dollars, for a limited time!

Me: Christ, the thing reset. Somebody plug this thing’s finger into a socket, would you? *click*

Really, I thought I was done with these fuckers a long time ago. Apparently, they didn’t read my last ode to the Globe. Oh, well. Guess I’ll have to finally get that air horn I’ve been thinking about, and blow it in their friggin’ ear next time they bug me. That should be fun.)

Okay, where the hell was I? Still talking about the job? That sounds about right.

So, it’s pretty exciting. Soon, the money will be rolling in again, and I’ll be getting up early like most of the rest of you poor saps, and re-entering the rat race. I suppose it’ll be nice to be a fully-functioning member of society again.

(Well, mostly functioning, anyway. No reason to expect a miracle to happen, right?)

But it should be fun, and ought to give me some more material for you folks, as I bumble and fumble around the new office, breaking shit and pissing people off. Really, it’ll be a laugh riot. I may be looking for another job soon, if I get my ass fired, but you people will be entertained. And really, it’s all about you, isn’t it?

(What, it is? Really? Damn.)

Well, that’s it for now. So, enjoy the weekend, and I’ll be back with more on Sunday evening. Hey, maybe I’ll have some good shit from my weekend trip, too. We’re going to a wedding my wife’s old high school friend is having, and I won’t know anyone there. Certainly seems like a golden opportunity to get plastered and be arbitrarily rude to people I’m never going to see again, doesn’t it? I just have to stay sober enough to remember all the kooky shit I end up saying to people. It’s a very fine line to walk. I’ll let you know how it goes. Happy weekend!