Parentheticals

Friday night M and I went out (around 8:30 pm, due to the fact that she had locked her keys in her car at work, and I had to take a cab and unlock her door for her), dinner of giant hamburgers (I had bleu cheese and bacon on mine) and a game of bowling (only a 104, but I didn't hit my stride until the 9th frame, plus bowled a few strikes for fun afterwards, and I'm confident that if we would have played another game I would have been in the 150-170 range, but I know that sounds arrogant and presumptuous, so forget it, I sucked it up and got a 104, ok?). Would have been a lot more fun if a certain third person had not been with us, a person who chose to suck all the energy out of the room by whining, near tears, about his overly-dramatic problems (Granted, I've been known to be a bit of a sensitivo myself, but this guy made me want to kill myself) and sulk when I beat him at bowling (with a fucking 104!) and hint at the fact that he would drink alone and not sleep when we dropped him off. Yeah, that was awesome.

Saturday we drove to a random neighborhood that M had read about in the newspaper. Supposedly it was part of the 'Ukrainian village' neighborhood, but instead it was rather run-down and had 62 Mexican restaurants. We did go into a 'witchcraft' shop, which had a few candles and phallic statuettes and a shelf of potions (one of which was called 'love sauce'). When we left the owner and her 9 year old daughter told us to come back soon, and that they would be getting in a lot of new merchandise for valentines day. The daughter shouted "love sauce!," which made me laugh and think of 1999/early 2000 when I referred to things of a sexual nature as 'sweet naughty sauce' (as in "Fuck, dude, am I ever going to get some sweet naughty sauce again?")

Then we drove north to a Menards, and failed to find a bookshelf that matched the 6 overflowing ones we have now (they no longer carry that brand) but I did buy some boards. Remember when we bought new bedroom furniture back in early Nov? Well we got our charming bed, and within a few days discovered that the three cross boards it had to support the box spring were an inch too short for the frame, so that sometime upon sitting down or movement of any other kind prompted one or more of these boards to fall out of place and occasionally send half of the mattress askew. I'm sure we could have complained about this, but instead we lived we in for a couple months. So at Menards I bought three boards and had them cut to my precise measurements (and in doing so felt quite macho, though I suppose it would have been better if I would have done the cutting myself, and possibly even better than that if I would have felled the tree with a single chop of my ax.) But the boards fit, and appear to be doing their job, though I don't have any sort of support in the center of the bed, and they will probably sag and break someday (when I'm getting some sweet nau...... aw, nevermind).

Now it was late afternoon and I hadn't eaten since breakfast. Here in Chicago there is a show on PBS called 'Check, Please' in which three random upper-class citizens all go to three restaurants, and then talk about them. We watched it last weekend and saw a mexican place in the far north suburbs called 'Wholly Frijole' which got unbelievably positive comments, and was also super cheap (nothing over 10 bucks on the menu). So since we were already on the north side, we decided to make the trip. We didn't know the exact address, so we turned the wrong way off the exit and ended up having to call information to find it. But, of course, because of the show the previous weekend, the place (which only holds 25 people!) was completely full with a line out the door and nowhere to park. A table for two would require an estimated hour and 45 minute wait, which wasn't possible, so we had to go somewhere else. We ended up stopping at a Greek restaurant a mile down the road called Psistaria (I'm guessing the P is silent). Neither of us had been to a greek place before, save for late-night gyros, so everything was new and exciting, which is what I like at restaurants. We realized too late that there was some appetizer that required the waiter to pour alcohol over and light on fire, prompting a flame up to the ceiling and a shout of something in Greek. I got a half-liter bottle of beer and a combination plate, everything was excellent and exciting (except my eyebrows felt insecure for the first time ever).

Meat post

Oh, does anyone have tips on how to use a broiler??? I've never done before, successfully. I have a gas stove that has a little broiling compartment underneath the oven, with a broiling pan and everything. Do I just put the meat on there, and then flip it after 4 minutes? Do I close the little broiler door or leave it open? Is there anything else I'm supposed to know? I bought something called 'london broil' from the store because it was on sale. It looks good, I don't want to fuck it up.

Underachievers, Please Try Harder.

Today at work I did the following: 45 minutes of actual work on my own, 75 minutes of training, and then rest of the day was spent reading about my HR and benefit info online, and pretending to do actual work or study if someone important came by. In two more weeks I can re-enter the exciting world of health insurance, which I heard is nice. But the premiums seem a bit high, and it just seems like I'm getting ripped off unless I get hit by a truck. Somehow, I've also been told that my first semi-monthly paycheck has been mailed to me, which rules. I'm someone who will do just about anything for twenty dollars, and so getting a check for an amount considerably more than twenty dollars just seems surreal. Granted, last week was no picnic, but today's laziness was quite agreeable, I rebuked multiple insincere lunch invitations to eat tuna salad sandwiches at my desk (the trick about tuna, if you don't know, is to buy the cans that are generic or store brands, the cheapest ones. The tuna inside is in bigger chunks and with much less water, if you get Chicken of the Sea or something it always looks like a watery paste.) and then I took a walk outside and looked at the buildings and pretended I knew what I was doing and had somewhere to go important.

Everyone left between 30-60 minutes early, so I followed (but only 15 earlier than usual, I seem to arrive the first and leave last most other days). The short days are nice. Next week I have some meetings and new special projects, my supervisor is setting me up to fix all the problems and do everyone's job within our small department, my plan is just to take on as little responsibility as possible, and just do everything well. Repeat for years and years, and then there's an awesome retirement plan that I read about. That's a quality life, right there.

So now it's the weekend, so it's time to see what all the hype is about. There might be a dinner out, there could possibly be bowling.

You can't deal with my infinite nature, can you?

'I ♥ Huckabees' is a fantastic movie, way better than I was expecting, saw it for an incredible three dollars Sunday at the University theatre. Very interesting mix of low brow physical comedy, mid-brow social commentary, and high-brow philosophical talk, and I laughed more than any movie I've seen in a year. I'm looking forward to watching it again already. Oddly enough, afterwards it sent me into a bit of a downward spiral and gave me the incredible urge to curl up on my living room floor and not move for at least 57 hours, mostly because I've been mired in my own existential crisis lately, which began last Monday, on my first day of work.

So I work in a big building at a large multinational company. There are computer screens in the elevator, which show daily headlines and fun facts. Today on the ride up the computer looked like it was rebooting or something, but everyone still stared at it. I work in a small division of a hundred people or so, we make no mention of the larger giant company when conducting our business, but we for some reason use about six other company names for whatever we are doing. We have Windows 98 on our computers, and no other software any newer than that, except for our bug-filled and insanely complex in-house insurance application. I had to do an orientation session via webcast, which taught me that everything is simple for new employees when they type their password into this special website, but of course I have no gotten a password, and their seems to be no record of my existence, and I'm concerned that I will not get paid. My supervisor talks to me for about 30 seconds per day, save for Friday, when I went into her office and complained about how my training was going poorly. Apparently I am being trained for five jobs at once, none of which are the job I was applying for, and by 'trained' I mean someone talking to me for 45 minutes about how I'm supposed to do 76876 different things, all of which are exceptions to the basic 298357 rules, but after awhile I'll memorize everything magically. Otherwise last week I worked relentlessly on a special project, (including making a template at home), basically because I had nothing else to do. This week my training schedule has dissolved to vague suggestions, and I spent the whole day today working on a spreadsheet while waiting for the person who was supposed to train me to finish what they were doing, which never happened. Tomorrow I will have nothing to do to waste time. Any knowledge I gain seems to be from my own observation, which any 'instruction' is given to me like I've been working in the next cubicle for the past 6 years. This week has gone slightly better than the night-sweat producing trauma of last week, but I still can't seem to picture working there beyond a couple days at a time. I am learning the difference between a mortgage bankers bond and a mortgage impairment policy and a mortgage originators policy, which I stupidly did not know on my first minute of work.

There are things I like about the building and the commute and working downtown, but I'll save them for later. Right now I just wanted to vent a bit. Maybe I'll eventually come around and love the 'job' and everything will fall into place, but not today.

I am so smart, S-M-R-T!

Well, yesterday morning I found out that I got the job. I start Monday.

So, what better way to spend my last few days of sloth, which happens to coincide with M having an unprecedented three weekdays off in a row, than by both of us being extremely ill? She started it, with her stoopid hospital germs. I'm going to eat toast and drink tea now.

Speak only in the second person from now on.

Well, today was the second interview over at G.C. (giant company), much less nervous this time out, unlike last time when I arrived I could actually see the top of the building instead of clouds, and there were no flying gargoyles with menacing glares. After a bit of confusion (I was sent up directly to the 17th floor, and they didn't seem to know who I was or who I was interviewing with) I met with a woman named Kim, she was nice ( and a UW alumnus) and unlike last week's babble-fest, this time she did most of the talking. So that went very well, and then I got a tiny tour as I was walked over to another office to meet with one of the three who I'd met last week. This was Mary, the one who's name I didn't remember after last time (I blogged it as Anne, I don't know where that came from. It's Mary, stupid) despite the fact that she was the nicest to me. So we talked for another 15-20 minutes, this time I asked all the questions, she seemed satisfied that I was awesome, and gave me some pretty flattering compliments. She talked more about the job and the workplace, it all sounded great to me, and it sounded very very much like I practically had the job. I just went home after that, didn't meet up with HR guy at all, I expect to hear back no later than tomorrow I guess, though they didn't really say.

Except...

Well, when I was leaving, and shaking her hand, I might have called her the wrong name.

Now, I'm not sure about this. In fact, I could just be making it up. She didn't seem to react weirdly, or correct me, she just turned and walked away. It's just when I was on the train home, I was thinking about the interview, and how great it had went, and for some reason I had the name "Sarah" in my head. Not Mary, not even Anne. Where did Sarah come from??? I don't know. I don't want to know. But, then, later at home, I wondered if maybe I had said "Sarah" instead of "Mary" when I was leaving. Maybe she was so startled she didn't correct me, and rushed off thinking "If he can even remember my name, how can he do this fancy job?"

So, no matter what name I called her, if I don't get the job, I'll just assume it's because I called her the wrong name. If I do get the job, either I got it right or it didn't bother her. Maybe she thought, 'well, he can call me anything he likes', and licked her lips. I just assume that's what most women do.

Beyond Belief

Well, I suppose my interview couldn't have gone that badly; I got a call late yesterday afternoon, have a second one scheduled for monday morning, with two other people that I have no idea what they do. So, counting the HR rep, I'll have been interviewed by 6 different people all total. That seems like a lot for a lowly entry-level position. I'm at the point now where if I don't get the job I'll be crushed, I haven't applied for anything new since Christmas. I can't seem to shake the desire to be a low-level office drone.

I want you to want me!

Today I had my interview, and to mark the occasion the gods decided to assail the city with a nasty 'wintry mix' of precipitation, if only to give my interview day the apocalyptic feeling that it deserved. I took a train downtown an hour early, then read a chapter of Lolita while I waited in the station. I walked the 2-3 blocks to the giant building, got my 'security clearance,' took an elevator to the sixth floor, as instructed. Then I got a bit confused, because the door to the reception area seemed to be locked, so I milled about aimlessly, trying to figure out where exactly I was supposed to go. Finally, I was let in to the locked door, and waited on an expensive looking couch and pretended to read a magazine. After about five minutes the guy I was supposed to meet showed up, Pete, the same guy who I've talked to on the phone about 4 times in the last month and a half, and he escorted me up to the 17th floor before bolting, where I was interviewed by 3 people at once. There names were Anne, Sam, and Veronica. I believe one of these people (Veronica) would be my immediate supervisor if I was hired, and the other two explained to me what they did, in great details that I understood about 2% of. The interview was a lot different from what I was prepared for, mostly in that they didn't ask me many questions. They asked what I was looking for, what I liked and disliked about my last job, and about my film major. I honestly can't remember what else, if anything. But, for each of these questions, I flew into an ill-advised ten-minute monologue in which I'd contradict myself four times, pause a few times midsentence when I realized I had no idea what I was talking about, and stop speaking at an awkward moment as my cheeks flushed and sweat seemed to pour from every crevice of my body. I may be exaggerating, but I'm not sure. Nearly half of the interview was spent listening to them talk about the company. I asked a fair amount of questions, and received some knowledge as to what exactly I'd be doing and how the hierarchy is structured. But I also received two separate ten minute lectures about how the company worked, involving impromptu charts drawn on notebook paper, filled with circles and lines and abbreviations that held no meaning for me. It was during these times that I felt like I was on a disappointing date, with someone who was, while smoking hot, also flaky, or stupid, or a republican, in which I could only smile and nod and say 'Oh, I see' and furrow my brow at times, while in my head I was humming a jaunty little tune.

On a positive note, I did seem to convince them that I was some sort of genius, or at very least, an idiot savant. A hard-working one, at that. After nearly an hour of this, the interview was over. I went back to the sixth floor to see Pete again, who basically asked me how it went, and what I like about what I'd heard. He refused the list of references I had brought, but took 'my application,' which he emailed my late yesterday afternoon at the last minute, I had to print and fill it out, including the spot where I was forced to confess having an arrest on my otherwise spotless record, a drug-related one, at that. He briefly paged through this as we were talking but did not bring it up. I was told that a few more people were going to be interviewing, but then he'd contact me by next week Tuesday, to either set up a second interview with someone else, or to tell me to fuck off I guess.

I seriously don't know how impressed they were, I would not be surprised if the 3 interviewers said 'What a waste of our precious time' when out of ear-shot, or if they said 'Well, he looks like he would be a valuable addition to our team.' No idea. I've only had a few job interviews in my life, and I was hired on the spot at 3 of them, and rejected by two more (Including WalMart, 1998). They did say that what I'd be doing wasn't too far of from what I did at AmFam, which should mean good things, but who knows what will happen; this is Chicago, the City that Always Blows. Get it?! Because it's windy?! Ha ha ha ha.

"Do the interns get glocks?" "No, they all share one."

The most boring New Years Eve ever ended with me going to bed, sober, at 12:30, the only human interaction coming from drunken phone calls from the MPLS crew and a series of calls from M. The next day I had planned a spectacular yet low-key birthday celebration for my post-call domestic partner, involving take-out, cake, flowers, a crazy-expensive bottle of champagne, and Garden State on DVD. These plans were ruined by M's father and sister, who decided among themselves to show up, drink more than their fair share of champagne, and claim the roses I bought as roses I bought on their behalf. I was reduced to getting drinks, and being everyone's butler, including running down to the first floor to buy some diet coke out of the machine, because the half-dozen beverages in my refrigerator did not include soda. My lone moment of triumph came near the end of their visit, when the scrabble game we were playing turned suddenly in my favor ('stanza' with a triple letter on the 'z' plus double word score, 68 points) and our guests were left to sulk with their non-victories.

Sunday I finally got to see "The Life Aquatic," in a very ill-maintained downtown theatre. I had high expectations that were not met, though there were plenty of good moments (early David Bowie in Portuguese, unpaid interns, dolphins with cameras strapped to their heads) and the film is worth seeing on the big screen (and you better hurray, cuz poor box office means it won't be around for long). But, overall, the worst Wes Anderson movie to date. I'll see it again if it comes to the cheap theatre in a couple months, and get the DVD, but I'm not foaming at the mouth about it.

Now I have a college football party to make an appearance at tonight, and then tomorrow is my interview, which has been moved to 11 am I guess. I read/skimmed an entire book about 'how to have the best goddamn interview of your life' last night but am reluctant to make any notes or think of answers in advance. I've decided I will simply tell them I am the best person for the job and not hiring me would be the biggest mistake of their petty insignificant lives. Then I will emit a stream of tobacco juice into a nearby spittoon, which will land with a puncuating 'ping.'