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3/30/2005


I have to find a new job. Oh, I'm serious.

The chance of my brain actually falling out my nose has reached a critical level.

Yesterday, life-changing yesterday ...

An old woman approached me. I knew she was going to talk to me. I knew it was going to smell like Marlboros and I was going to be stupified by whatever conversation was coming up.
"Uh, say, I need you to run me up an X6-Slipper."

"We don't have any more X6-Slippers. Company policy."

"Jesus Christ! I mean ... For the Fuck of ... What The Christ? We are in the middle of a ... Jesus! Fuck MY ARM!"

Something snapped in my brain.

It was 8:00 in the morning and I was being cursed at by a woman who by time and excess nicotine had convinced herself that she was my superior. That, and she felt she was free to take the Lord's name in vain around me.

The yelling continued and all I could do is look at her bloody, chapped and yellow lips and think "What the hell am I doing with my life?".

I walked away in silence. I made it to my office without losing any organs out of any orifices. Then it was an hour on the phone with various managers explaining to them company policy.

"But what I don't understand is why I don't have it."

"Policy."

"But why don't I have it? Where are the e-mails? What about Feburary 7th?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You see, the policy means I need to be ..."

And on and on and on.

It used to be a joke, this office. Now, over a year later, it's a scary reality.

I have geared up the resume pumper again. This time I will not stop filling the offices of Seattle with the tales of my accomplishments until one of them offers me a job.

You hear me, World? I'm grabbing your tail again!
Violent Stick People
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