Have Some Food.
4 September 1998
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Have Some Food.
4 September 1998
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I'm tired, cranky, distracted, and depressed. Nothing particularly bad has happened today, but there's just something in the air that makes me want to shut it all down.
A friend of mine, by contrast, got into work today at 7 AM, only to be called into a conference with everyone else in the company at 8. There the employees were told that, sorry, we don't have any money to pay you. So you're all fired. Right now. Bye!
A moral is left as an exercise for the reader.
It's Overheated Fellow Weekend and this place is empty. Well, it's always empty by 9 PM, but it's been empty all day, that's the point. One of the newer employees, explaining why he was here, said "I'm surprised they don't declare Burning Man an official company holiday." Why do you think they give us Labor Day off? As a great man once said, "The word capitulation comes to mind."
It's been nice. Music on at audible levels. When you walk in just as Dino begins to sing "Volare", you know the correct mood is in play. Managers and other troublemakers left early if they came in at all, no new projects, no silly questions.
Naturally, I have had an attention span the size of a gnat.
I don't get it, you know. Two perfectly good tickets to see They Might Be Giants, and I can't get a single bite. Two! It's not date bait, geez. Take them and go pretend you found them on the street, I don't care. The people I know, I don't know about them.
If there are things inherently depressing about spending time online, this could be one of them. When you don't have a social circle to begin with, out in The World, the "online community" can at first seem to be a big improvement. But you don't have a social life for a reason. Nothing is going to stop that reason from playing out on the Web just as much as it does face to face. That you end up in a shallow simulation of friendship, or a voyeur to the dizzying social whirl of others - this is not unfamiliar, it is not a Net-only thing.
Chitter chitter. I'm trying to finish this sandwich, honest. The donuts, however, they are piling up. In greasy white paper bags. Along with the 350 little two-packs of crackers that I've accumulated with the at-most 4 cups of soup purchased from Happy Donuts since I moved to this new desk. I feel so bad about throwing them out, though. What if there was an earthquake, and I was trapped here, and I needed food? Those crackers would look mighty good. That always happens in books. "The only thing we had to eat were some stale saltines from Janet's desk."
The real problem is that this is a Hip Door/Desk, not an actual desk that has bourgeois luxuries, like, oh, drawers?????????? Ah, sorry. Unless you are the one that started this trend. In which case, come over here and get these crackers, damn you.
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
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All names are fake, most places are real, the
author is definitely
unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
© 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff. The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne. | ||||
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