Loquacious

Let's talk about my job, which I usually don't do. An average day at work has me coming in and asking someone, hey, what do you need me to do? The important people at work are in meetings twenty-four/seven, and no matter when I come, I'm interrupting, so they tell me, "Let me find you in five minutes." Six hours later... it's time to go home.

Not that I mind coming into work and not working. It's my dream job, really. All I have to do is look busy in the event that someone comes to my little corner of the office — which is actually a lot of hard work — and make the occasional website update, eating about ten to twenty minutes of my workday. So you can imagine my disappointment when, on Tuesday, my supervisor at the theatre said his supervisor wanted to have a talk with me. She wanted to "discuss what I actually do around here." Damn.

So today I headed up to the big boss's office with my tail between my legs and a half-assed story about how the website requires maintenance and just because you can't see the changes I'm making to the website.... Well, whatever. Turns out there's a computer in the box office that refuses to be connected to the internet and the virtual private network simultaneously, and it's my job to figure out why. (I vaguely remember reading that the internet and VPN are incompatible, but I sort of need more info on that...) I head down to the box office to check out this intractible computer; too bad neither I nor Michelle, who's working down in the box office this afternoon, knows the password to log in. We've gotta wait for Tony, who owns the computer, and who I really want to talk about.

Because he is one of those people who won't shut the fuck up, and really ought to. He is an ac-tor. And, when he finally came in and logged into his computer, he has an Alias desktop wallpaper, which is just plain embarrassing.

Thing is that I find a lot of the people at the theatre off-putting, with their self-confidence, their easy-going blather, their goddamn irritating tendency to randomly break into song. It's especially irritating when the song their breaking into isn't a song so much as a radio commercial jingle or some Alias-retarded Top 40 song that played on the radio about three minutes ago. Seriously, Tony, does the planet really need that? Do we need you introducing this southern-drawl woman Wren by "she used to play shortstop on our theatre softball team."

Me: You guys used to have a softball team.

Tony: No, I just didn't want to say she used to work here.

Ass.

[There used to be a brief paragraph here mentioning that not all my co-workers (now former co-workers) were freakwads, but it got me fired. So screw it. They all suck. —Ed.]

I hope they don't read this.