Listening to the A Clockwork Orange soundtrack in the car has always made me a bit of a reckless driver. I just can’t help myself. That little surly teenager surfaces. This habit hasn’t caused any wrecks…yet. I just go a little too fast given the road and traffic conditions—I’m too busy paying more attention to the music than I am my surroundings. Listening to certain songs by the Wedding Present causes the same problems. I blame CSP for playing this really great recording of Beethoven’s Ninth the other night when we went to bed. So, if I die in some fiery crash this week, go arrest him.
Before getting in my car this morning to zip in and out of traffic on that whole one-mile commute I have (yes, I realize it is shameful to drive to work when I could walk or ride a bike, but have you seen that hill that sits between my place and the office?), I found myself, in my head, listing books I hate. I think this stemmed from a friend’s call-out on Facebook to give him some reading recommendations, and someone suggested Banana Yoshimoto’s Kitchen. I hate that book. I hate that book so much that the person who gave it to me to read stopped talking to me, because I was that vehement in my hatred (so many angry red-inked notes in the margin!). Thus, here is Grumples’ Reviled Book List:
- Kitchen, Banana Yoshimoto
- White Oleander, Janet Fitch
- Rubyfruit Jungle, Rita Mae Brown
- Glass Castle, Jeannette Walls
- Atonement, Ian McEwan
- The Lovely Bones, Alice Sebold
- Life of Pi, Yann Martel
- Water for Elephants, Sara Gruen
- The Pillars of the Earth, Ken Follett
These books were all recommended to me, and in most cases actually given as gifts. I often give my favorite books to my friends as presents, and I’m well aware that there are books I adore, books that are as close to me as family and friends, that people despise (like The Time Traveler’s Wife and Master and Margarita). That’s just the way it is; so, if you love the books on my list, eh well, we can still be friends, I will only make fun of you a little bit. By which I mean, a lot, but only behind your back, and only a little to your face.
Here we are, eight hours later. It was a tiring day. People kept calling, and annoying the snot out of me (I’m full of allergies, so only a small poke will get the snot flowing). Here are three fine examples of who I have the pleasure of working with on a daily basis:
Employee: I was supposed to get a supplemental check.
Me: Okay. Did you get it?
Employee: I don't know.
Me: Have you checked your bank account?
Employee: No.
Me: How about you go do that, then call me if it's not there.
Employee: Okay.
Me: (silence)
Employee: Alright. Bye.
Me: Bye.
Employee: There are some changes being requested to the form you created for us.
Me: Cool.
Employee: I thought I could just go in and make the changes myself, but, um, the Excel form you created is far more advanced than my skill level.
Me: Uh huh.
Employee: Can I sit down with you and tell you what changes need to be made, and you make them for me?
Me: Fine (heavy sigh).
Employee: I guess we should do that at your desk.
Me: Obviously. (This person makes $25.87/hr more than me.)
Employee: Oh, hey, here's something you'll be interested in!
Me: Hmmm?
Employee: I was at a Paul McCartney concert a few weeks ago in Chicago...
Me: (blink a few times)
Employee: And this woman next to me had each of the four Beetles tattooed on her forearm!
Me: That's disturbing.
Employee: No! It was beautifully done.
Me: All the same, that's creepy.
Lately, I’ve been so resentful at work. All of the above really illustrates why. There are many wonderful people at my job, but I rarely get the chance to interact with them. Instead, I get the above fun good times. The first one would have been amusing if the other two had not also happened. The second one is the most frequent insult. I work for an organization that prizes longevity over actual skills, and thus someone can make $25/hr more than me, and yet can’t manage to modify a form in Excel. Pathetic. The last one is the hardest in that I know people are just trying to be friendly, but fuck, I just don’t give a shit about your encounters with tattooed people. Why would I possibly care about a stranger’s creepy portrait tattoos? Sigh.
Thus, after extending the pain of my day a bit at the grocery store, I came home, made mac-n-cheese from a box (thanks to some fond reminiscing with Nauticalina over such orange delights), and started my first episode of Parking Wars, because it is important for me to watch other people with shitty jobs to validate my own life.
This shit is about to get all turned around with a Skype date with Meggles in seven minutes. I can always count on her to make me feel warm and gooey on the inside.
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