Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Do you remember?

For no reason that I can think of, a weird childhood memory popped up today. See, when I was in elementary school, I was always one those kids who became the teacher's pet. I helped other students, picked up the teacher's mail from the office, got to decorate the bulletin boards, helped grade papers, etc. But the absolute best part of all was getting to make the copies, and the magical device that I was taught to use: the mimeograph machine.

I can clearly remember the multi-layered original copy, and the drum/wheel thing that spun around. And who could forget the blue/purple ink that detailed everything in childhood, from math worksheets & language arts handouts, to coloring pages? Taking the pages up too soon would leave you with smudges on your fingers, but you didn't care because the paper was still slightly damp from the fluid, and you could get a good, long sniff.

What was the deal with that smell?!? I don't think I know a single person in my age group who doesn't remember avidly snorting mimeograph fluid-scent off of paper. I can say for damned sure that I don't get the same kind of reaction and pleasure from photocopies.

So, I have no idea why this is on my mind. If I wanted to analyze myself, I'd probably say that it has something to do with a yearning for the innocence and simplicity of childhood; but, I don't really wanna go that deep. I'd rather just think of it as an odd, but happy, memory that smacked me across the gob this morning.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

The straight skinny

I have a secret informant at work, and it sounds absolutely silly, but it's my groundskeeper. Might as well dork out and call him "Willie". When New Boss is in town, she always brings one of the maintenance guys from her home property with her, so he can help out around here and do things that Willie can't do.

The thing is, though, Visiting Handyman (VH) is always around New Boss, and knows way more than I do about the secrets and information going on at home office. And luckily for me, despite his beard and good ole boy charm, VH is a chatty Cathy who can't keep anything to himself. So while they're working together on projects, VH always tells Willie about stuff that even I don't know about. And I work for the fucking company, while Willie is a temp, for chrissake!

(Pushing aside resentment that a handyman gets more information that I do....) What no one seems to realize, though, is that Willie and I have developed quite a rapport over the last 7 months of his assignment here. Seeing as we're the only ones here most of the time-- and we're talking roughly 4 days a week, people-- we've HAD to learn to get along and depend on one another. So as soon as New Boss and VH leave, Willie pulls me aside and tells me everything he's been told. I love men who can gossip.

The news today ain't so great. Apparently, the buyers asked New Boss how much money I make, and in an attempt to help me out a bit, she inflated my salary a smidgen to give me some bargaining room. It completely backfired. The "word on the street" is that the buyers feel that my salary is too high (hah!) and so they won't be asking me to stay on. So, it looks like July 25th will be my last day as a gainfully employed person.

I know it's "not done" to talk about money, but I'm going to do it anyway. I make crap money, completely crap. I fall into the category of Americans who are 2 missed paychecks away from poverty. So it's completely astounding to me that the buyers think my salary-- even only slightly inflated-- is too much. And when you add in the fact that I know from my brief conversations with them that they would be greatly increasing my duties and responsibilities were I to be retained by them, I am again dumbfounded. I really wonder what kind of a pittance salary they had in mind for someone in my position.

Oh, and to add insult to injury, the buyers don't even have health insurance. What the fuck?!? That's the one redeeming quality of my current job: I don't make any money, but it's at least compensated for by the fact that the company fully pays for health and dental insurance for its employees. No infertility coverage, of course, as you know from previous rants, but I'll take crappy insurance over NO insurance any day.

So, no health insurance/benefits package, ridiculously low salary, greater responsibilities, and they expect to pay someone less that what I make now. The really sad thing about it is, they won't have a problem hiring someone, because it's just that crappy of a job market here. The Pollyanna in me thinks I should stay positive, and hope that they make me an offer, even if it's a crappy offer, because a job right now is worth two in the bush. The snarly realist in me is already wondering how much you can get in unemployment benefits, and how long my bank account will survive if it takes a while to find something decent.

I'm thinking of putting up a happy, jolly ticker to countdown my days until unemployment and poverty. Maybe something with rainbows and butterflies. What do you think?

Monday, July 09, 2007


I have absolutely no idea when the axe will fall. First, I was told that my own personal D-Day was July 11th. Now, I'm being told that 7/11 is when the loan money goes hard (don't you just LOVE business-speak?!? I have to admit I snickered a bit), but that the closing won't be for another two weeks after that. In summary: I either have a job for 2 more days, or for two more weeks.


In vagina related news, I am on cd 11, and I'm starting to feel the ol' ovaries twinging and gearing up to ovulate in about a week. No u/s and trigger this time around; this is a semi-"break" cycle. Yep, I'm just tossing some baby-batter in my hooter, and waiting 15 days to see if I make a bloody mess in new white panties.

And who says romance is dead?