A Case of the Mondays.

Sorry, Office Space.

Today I woke up late, as I do most Mondays. And, since I no longer have a cable box I had no idea what time it was while I was getting ready, so luckily I looked at my phone while I was eating breakfast and realized I should have left four minutes ago.

I talked to Sir Riddle all the way to work. We really didn't have the chance to talk all weekend since he had a birthday party in Stonington yesterday. We didn't even get the chance to say goodnight. He said that he had a dream about me last night from when he was in Technical School, and I was in uniform with a button shirt, skirt, and heels (how dream impractical of me). I told him that I started a blog, and dread him to try to find it (he can't). I told him about the code names and he asked if I took acid (so what if I did) (I didn't). I told him about some of the things I made. Sometimes I feel like I do too much talking. Like...I feel like I dominate most of the phone conversations. I love hearing his voice (save for the times he's road raging against someone in the Capitol City), but I just have so much to say and not enough time to say it.

I switched hours with my good friend Lady Craft, so I get out a bit early on Thursday. Stupidly, I asked Sir Riddle what he was doing on Thursday, thinking maybe we could spend time together. It may be the paranoia from this acid, but I swear he's starting to COME UP with lame ass excuses as to why we can't hang out. I mean, seriously? Not ONE DAY in three weeks you can find in your busy life (in which you get out at 11:00 AM two days a week) to spend with Miss Mused? Hmmm...I'm starting to think the acid has a point.

Anyways, I got a couple of phone calls from places I have applied for jobs. It's a better response than I got the last time I tried this, about two or three years ago, but then again perhaps I have that "experience" those places claimed I didn't have all those numerous years ago. Honestly, I can tell you that I don't have a lick more experience than I did three years ago, but whatever makes these recruiters and HR Managers sleep at night. Funnily enough, I had a place that I had applied to because they had openings for administrative assistants within their company- and I dunno, something about this company really rubbed me the wrong way. I applied, and then the next day I get an email from the President of the company, stating that he had recently relocated from Kentucky (say whaaaat), that he had multiple openings and pays for training and to contact his secretary SHYLA for more information. It's just odd. I mean, I'm used to companies that send you a cursory email saying "we've received your resume, and will be in touch with you if you meet the requirements of the job." NOT one that says "Hey, we liked you, now contact my secretary." Anyways, I didn't get this email until Friday night, so I figured I would contact them on Monday. Negative. On Saturday, as I'm driving with my parents to see Grammie Mused, SHYLA calls me. And she asks me if I'm free to talk to her. I wanted to be like, lady, SHYLA, it's Saturday. I'm doing my own thing. Buzz off. But I said that I would contact her on Monday when she and I were back in the office, and today she sends me an email saying that they had interviewing sessions that they were scheduling on Wednesday from 9:30 AM-2:30 PM. I wanted to be like, a) thanks for the short notice, and b) yeah, that totally works with my work schedule, everyone knows that the Inferno industry is only open from 12:00 AM to 6:00 AM, so that's perfect. I just made up some thing about being offered a job opportunity and sent SHYLA on her way. The company, I think, is most likely a scam. Or some sales job that I most definitely do not want.

Another place contacted me though, that is in the Goblin City, so I'm a little excited in my drawers about that one.

Funny enough, I thought about telling SHYLA that the Inferno had given me the promotion that I had been wanting as one of my lame excuses, and I get pulled down to one of the (fifty) Vice President's office with my Manager at about 3:30 PM. And as I'm walking down behind my manager, I'm thinking that:
a) they finally read all of those emails between Sir Riddle and I, and are canning my ass.
b) they are tired of me bitching about the health insurance and want to school me on how "great" it is.
c) the Vice President wants to talk about some more Maine restaurants (he spent a half hour earlier today bending my ear about it. What does that mean, anyways, bending your ear?).
d) they are, actually, finally (after five and a half goddamn years) promoting me.
It turns out that it was (kinda) option D. Although I'm not sure if it's a little too little, too late at this point. But the Vice President told me that he has plans for my department, and things that he would like to see me do in preparations for those plans, as then I could move into a better position. I hope that means both better position as I don't have to talk to all these uneducated assholes all day long, as well as I get paid better than a manager at a fast food restaurant (which, sadly, I have considered doing since I make ABOUT the same amount, and I have a freakin' degree). But I have my doubts, since I've heard this whole song and dance from the previous regime. Although they did tell me some things that made me feel better about previous gripes that I had- people that have been promoted, people that get the employee of the month, etc. Basically, both of these people (the promoted-s and the monther-s) are both so far up all the higher up's ass, the higher ups could probably taste their boogers. And that's not me. I mean, I'm nice and I'm helpful, but I'm no kiss-ass. Perhaps this is my problem within the corporate realm.

I also had to pull out the bitch guns with my PCP's office today. I had called them on Friday because I wanted a referral to see a gastroenterologist for some...butt problems I've been having (thank you Signor Nookie) since February. I had surgery for the problem at my PCP's office earlier this year, and have had problems ever since there, off and on every couple of weeks. So I thought, hey, maybe there's something I can do since I'm so close to this $1500 deductible on my health insurance plan, so if surgery is needed this is the year to do it. But, they never got back to me on Friday, and today when I called they said they needed me to come into the office.

I'm sorry, do you think I'm faking hemorrhoids? Do you think that I want to go see a gastroenterologist if I don't have to? Do you think I just have surgeries all the time on a whim? Like, hey, you know what I could really use, is a triple bypass. I mean, this shit is ridiculous. Who do I need to blow to get a fucking referral? You know I have them, you fucking cut one off of my ass earlier this year, so just give me a goddamn referral. But all these doctors only care about the almighty buck. He just wants to get his piece of the pie before this other doctor does. Well, guess what my friend, you're not getting a PENNY more out of me after this. So good job.

Anyways, I'm off to talk to Mister Wit. I want to see how his pioneer weekend, and if he has any more witch-like suspects. ;)