Until today, I worked Monday through Friday from 2:45 in the afternoon until 11:45 PM. No reality television for me, which is fine since I don't care which struggling actor or ambiguously gay elementary teacher gets voted out of the leper colony. Once, I got lucky and made it to the midnight premiere of a movie I had been looking forward to. I think I even got there in time for the coming attractions. By the time I got out of work on Friday nights, the band at the corner bar was packing away their instruments and all of the cute girls had already paired off with the date rapists.
Until today.
Monday, I start 1:30 to 10:30 PM. Still no reality television, which is still fine, but now I can take in a late movie or catch some good live music at the local bar. Until I clock out tonight, though, I'm taking calls for the somethingth-largest telecommunications corporation in the United States. If one wants to see the worst in humanity, this is the job to apply for. In one ear, I have customers lying to me, throwing every colorful metaphor in the book (which is published by Random House, I think) at me to describe my sex life and my mother, and even going so far as to threaten me. Apparently, they don't realize I'm looking at their account information as they are allowing their mouths to excrete this insurmountable amount of shit. In the other ear, I am hearing a supervisor remind the call center that customer services representatives who transfer customers to supervisors will be fed to ravenous skinheads. I didn't need the extra incentive not to dump the pissed-off, vaguely racist white trash mom into my supervisor's voicemail. I try to resolve their problems. Not out of any sense of altruism, mind you, but because I don't want her calling back and possibly collapsing a Doral cigarette-blackened lung to yell at me twice as loudly. I couldn't live with that on my conscience.
If I were more industrious, I'd sneak in a flask and share it with the janitors. They are the only people in the whole building making an honest living. I've got aspirations of being published as a writer, so I am well-suited towards obfuscating the truth from the public, who might be dissuaded from contributing to my commission by our competitor's advertisements. It's a living. I'd much rather languish here in obscurity than live high on the hog off of the sweat and blood of others, like so many aspire to. I have been here for a few years, and I can see the bloodlust in some of the new hires' eyes. They'd cut my throat and bathe in my blood for a chance to be middle management. Bloody savages! I will fight them off and thwart their efforts to become the next big thing by remaing complacent in my low level customer service job. Sure, some will pass me by, but others, not understanding that I'm not applying for management positions, will not even put their own names in the hat because they think I will beat them out.
Ha! The janitors and I drink to your misery, prep school graduates.
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