April 30th, 2008 Riley
I made it all the way to the car this morning before realizing that I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t work a single hour more in April of 2008. So, I got out of the car and walked right back up the stairs and inside.
This is no lie. On my WMC post, when I said it was all that I had time for, I meant that I was leaving for work. And, at the time, I really thought that I was. Then, I didn’t. Awesome huh?
So I came back to my computer, emailed my staffing agency and told them that I had the croup. (Not really. Too many details will get you every time. Keep everyone on a need to know basis. You can file this as a life lesson.) Then, I did some homework that was due this morning, because it seems that I will forever be taking a class or two for the sole purpose of redistributing debt. After that, I readied my Nicholl Fellowship application and printed out my script for the May 1st postmark deadline. No matter how many people say, “You suck, Riley LaShea! Stop sending us your crap to read,” I’m still convinced that this particular screenplay is the fuckin’ shit. Take that, you bastards. You will not keep me down!
I was able to accomplish all of this and still make it to Dave & Buster’s for their eleven a.m. opening, and you know what happened next? You won’t even believe it. I’m convinced it’s due to my growing muscles, which I can say with some certainty are all thanks to Budokon. I beat the record at basketball and won the big ticket bonus. It’s true. I did. With a score of 64 points. Then, just for good measure, before I left, I beat my own record with a score of 68 points. I felt so badass. We won’t discuss the fact that I got my ass kicked four out of six times at air hockey. Of course, I was playing with my left hand and I’m not left-handed. That’s no excuse. It’s fact.
When we left D&B, we busted the food budget and had a tilapia lunch. Now, tilapia is something we have the ability to cook at home, it’s true, and we may even cook better at home, but every time we make tilapia, we set off the smoke detectors. This has happened in every apartment we’ve lived in. You have to make some smoke to get that nice, delicious scald. The problem is, this new apartment has sprinklers, so in the pursuit of a tasty meal, we could literally destroy everything we own. Somehow it just doesn’t seem worth it.
In order to send my script to the Nicholl peeps, I needed some cardstock, because somehow I don’t have any in the house. This is not only unusual, it’s absurd. So, we go into Staples. Now, I only need two pieces, so we go to the little copy area and ask if they have any. They do. Then the guy says, “Are you going to use it here?” as in “in our copiers,” and I’m like, “No,” and, I kid you not, he says, “Then I can’t help you.” I was too in disbelief to come up with a clever retort. I do wish now, though, that I’d asked if I could print on it in invisible ink. I didn’t say I wanted it for a measly amount of money. I just didn’t want to buy a whole bunch of it. As it was, I left stockless. Then, I went to Hobby Lobby and got four pieces for fifty cents. That’s right, Staples! That’s fifty cents you will never see. Considering the economy, you would think they would be scrapping over every penny. Guess not.
In between these two errands, we made a pit stop at Whole Foods and got to hear a guy trying to explain the benefits of composting to a group of kids who looked maybe six or seven years old. The best part was that he was holding their pizza hostage while he did it. Talk about a captive audience. “You want this piece of pizza? Okay, well I want your solemn vow that, the next time you don’t eat all of your dinner, you will walk the scraps out to the garden and throw it in the pile.”
Classic.
Soundtrack for today’s voyage: Madonna’s Hard Candy
Thoughts on soundtrack: Still love Madonna, no matter what anyone thinks. Still think she’s a legend. Still think her ability to adapt to the music of the moment is totally impressive. Wish I liked more than two songs on the album.
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April 18th, 2008 Riley
I’ve received my anticipated spanking. Sadly, I didn’t predict the exact day that it was coming (yesterday), or I would have worn my French maid’s costume to make things interesting.
Aside from being smelly and apparently having no access to a hairbrush, my new cubicle neighbor is also a tattler. Not all that surprising. I knew it before I got transferred to this cell. Now, I could have changed my habits accordingly, but that just isn’t my style. So, instead, I kept doing my thing with the constant expectation of reprimand. When I get my hopes up for such a chastisement, it’s rare that I am disappointed.
So, within my talking to, I was on the receiving end of a line that I get a lot from employers.
“It’s been noticed that you have been working on other things. I don’t know what you could be working on, but…”
Of course you don’t know what I could be working on. If there isn’t a TV, a stack of tabloids, or a six pack in my cubicle, what on Earth could I be doing?
My new plan? Work so slowly, it’s like I’m working backwards. This morning it took me 2 hours to do 15 minutes worth of work. I’m pro at this. I don’t have to be doing something to do nothing.
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February 26th, 2008 Riley
When I arrived at work today, my badge to get in the door wasn’t working. I called my boss and someone was sent down to let me in. I questioned whether or not this was a fluke, because when I recently moved, I didn’t get a home phone, so my staffing agency had no way of reaching me if they so chose to call and fire my ass. Later in the day, I decided it really was just a fluke, because my boss came by to tell me that my badge should be working again.
At the end of the day, though, the boss stopped by my desk again to tell me to call my staffing agency. Oh ho… I don’t believe in two massive, and highly connected, coincidences happening in one day without reason. I was sure that I was going to be relieved of my duties. So, I called before I left work.
They didn’t fire me!
I was told that my boss is concerned about my attendance, because I’ve been leaving early a lot to meet presidents and such. According to the staffing agency chic, they are quite happy with my work though. They don’t want to lose me. I do a terrific job when I’m there.
Are these people on crack?!?
Because they are right. I do a good job when I am at the office. But I don’t do THE job. As in, the one they are paying me for.
Somehow, I managed to keep it together, because in my mind our conversation went a little something like this:
STAFFING CHIC: They said you do a great job when you’re there. They really don’t want to lose you.
ME: Heh.
STAFFING CHIC: I’m sorry?
ME: Nothing. Please continue.
STAFFING CHIC: So, if you could just commit to working the forty-hour week for the next few weeks.
Thinking about how I am being begged to allow them to pay me for even more hours that I don’t actually work, I try to suppress my mirth. Unable to contain my glee at my rebel greatness, a snicker pops out.
STAFFING CHIC: Did you just laugh?
ME: No?
STAFFING CHIC: Okay. You’ll work forty hours?
ME: I’ll be here.
STAFFING CHIC: Great.
Judging by the fact that she allows me to get away with not actually answering the question, I determine she is an Obama-supporter and promptly end the conversation.
After I hang up the phone, I gather my belongings and head out of the office, only to return once again tomorrow…
Because, clearly, I, Riley LaShea, am fire resistant.
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February 8th, 2008 Riley
This morning we were supposed to have a meeting at eight sharp. It took place. I wasn’t a part of it. I got here at like six after eight, which, for all intents and purposes, is eight sharp for me. That’s the one great thing about temping - quarter hour rounding. It gives you seven minutes on either side of your start and stop times, which, if used regularly and flawlessly, could conceivably provide you with an extra twenty-eight minutes of pay daily which you don’t actually have to earn. I don’t actually use this trick as often as I would like to, but if I get to work six minutes late, you best believe my time sheet still says right on time.
So, I arrived six minutes late, and, naturally, the eight sharp meeting was already in progress, because everyone else was on time. So, instead of slipping into the meeting six minutes late, which quite honestly had nothing to do with me and I had no desire to sit through anyway, I just took a pass.
I did send the supervisor an email saying that I arrived late and didn’t want to disrupt the meeting. True, this was partly to make sure he knew that I was here so that he wouldn’t hesitate to sign my time sheet later today, but I still thought it was considerate.
Remember, being a rebel does not mean that you have to be impolite.
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December 21st, 2007 Riley
It’s happened. I didn’t know if it would.
I’ve been trying to be a naughty little worker ant and using every technique I have been taught by Shawna, the work slack master, to give myself the internet… to no avail. They are not dumb enough at this office to a) not have the internet password protected and b) use dummy passwords. The internet access here is a veritable Fort Knox.
So, I have been able to write, the thing I like to do most in place of working at jobs, but I haven’t been able to surf, which sucks, because I use the internet for research and fact verification when I am writing, and also to, say for instance, post to my blogs. But, alas, I was having to make do without.
Then, suddenly, out of the mist… er… from around the cubicle wall rather came an angel… er… a chic from the IT department. She said that she just needed to set something up for me real quick, kneeled by my keyboard and proceeded to give me internet access. Then, she looked at me, said “Shhh” and winked. How awesome is that?
Bless the IT chic who encourages my bad behavior.
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December 12th, 2007 Riley
It wasn’t recently. It was once upon a time, when I had another name, another life, another belief system. But it did happen and I do have the picture to prove it.
Just eating breakfast with the ambiguously gay duo hardly qualifies me as a rebel though. This is the rebel part…
I won this breakfast with Bert & Ernie by writing a letter. In the letter, I told Bert & Ernie how watching them on TV saved my life. It’s true that I was sickly as a child and did my time in the hospital, but I would call the notion that I owed my life to Bert & Ernie’s healing influence a bit of a stretch. It appears my aptitude for largely exaggerated scenarios began at the age of five.
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December 7th, 2007 Riley
… is that of a klepto. When times get tough, I want to steal stuff. During a quick stop at a giant discount retailer the other day, the gum rack was so tempting, it made me giggle with juvenile glee. The idea of pocketing a pack of Juicy Fruit nearly brought me to my knees with rebellious ecstasy. The thought of doing hard time for gum kept my desire at bay though. But it doesn’t make me any less klepto. It just makes me think bigger. There are things worth doing hard time for.
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December 4th, 2007 Riley
Last year, when the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show aired, guess who wasn’t watching?
Is it because I find women parading down a runway in next to nothing offensive? Is it because I have no interest in watching such a flagrant showcasing of skin? Is it because I find the majority of the models too skinny to be attractive?
Not if they get paid well. Uh, no. And yes, but that’s not why I wasn’t watching.
I wasn’t watching because I was living in Nashville, Tennessee, and that good ole southern moral majority decided for me that it was in my best interest not to view lingerie-clad foreign chics in my own home. Well, kiss off Nashville. I’ve moved north, where we like foreign chics, lingerie, and the awesome power of digital television that has the ability to bring it all into our living rooms with crystal clear clarity.
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November 9th, 2007 Riley
Chalk this up as one of those things you don’t want to find out about yourself unexpectedly. I went to renew my NY state driver’s license recently only to discover that my license is suspended. Why? Maybe, just maybe, I have an unpaid parking speeding ticket from 2005. Now I have to do some unsuspending of myself so that I can legally drive again. And, of course, I haven’t been driving without a valid license for the past two years, because that would have just been wrong.
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November 7th, 2007 Riley
Buffy has her stakes. I have my Ortho Home Defense Perimeter & Indoor Insect Killer.
Over the weekend, we were leaving the house and it was pointed out to me that there was a spider the size of my hand on the door of the garage. Now, there were two options here.
One - We could have left the spider alone, knowing it would crawl inside, spawn babies that would grow to the same size and would one night descend upon us, in a well-planned strategic attack, and devour us while we slept.
-or-
Two - I could walk up to it, with lethal intentions and what was left of the Ortho Home Defense Perimeter & Indoor Insect Killer, and hope the spider didn’t jump onto my face and lay its eggs in my nostrils.
Badass that I am, there was only one option really.
So, I went inside and I got the spray. I approached with stealth, Insect Killer in one hand, cell phone in the other. I was planning to take a picture to impress people with the feat later, but the closer I got, the more I realized just how gargantuan this particular arachnid was and how it would be kind of like David putting aside his slingshot in order to sketch Goliath before the big showdown. I realized it might be in my best interest to give the beast my undivided attention.
So with trembling hands but a steadfast soul, I took on my eight-legged foe. It took all that was left of the Ortho Home Defense Perimeter & Indoor Insect Killer, but, in the end, I emerged victorious, which is how I became known as Riley the Spider Slayer instead of Riley the Spider Incubator.
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