Working this job is like lighting two fuses; working this job is running out of excuses

I’m pretty sure I was just introduced to a new employee as “This is Amy, she makes copies.” Well, listen, I am SO GLAD my college education didn’t go to waste, and my mom will be SO PROUD OF ME. *preens* 

Me! Totally me! Only, not really me. I don’t have HUGE MAN HANDS like this, good grief.

(BTW, I also do other things here; I spend a substantial amount of time blogging, fixing the shitty low-rent copier we bought or maybe rescued from the street when it fell off a truck, checking my various social media networks, and also biting back sharp-tongued sarcastic remarks. But do you use THOSE tasks to label me when you introduce me, coworker? No, you do not. I am hurt. HURT, I tell you.) 

…so hurt.

Oh, I don’t know if I ever mentioned I had the anger-management meeting here, speaking of how much I love my job. Did I mention that? Probably I didn’t. So far, I do not have to enter anger management, but not because I don’t NEED anger management. I think it’s because they don’t want to PAY for anger management, or don’t know how to find such a place.

I don’t know why this is so hard. I found this totally-not-at-all-shady ad on the internet with a simple search. COME ON PEOPLE. Sheesh.

When I was asked why exactly I was so angry, I think they were confused by my answer of, “Well, it’s a little hard to keep a smile on one’s face when one is being treated like one is a member of the untouchable class from 8:30-5 daily, so sometimes I erupt in a volcano of righteous fury.” I’m not sure if it was the verbiage or the bluntness that flabbergasted them. I think they like when people are all kitten-rainbows here. I’m not…I’m not good at kitten-rainbows when someone is calling me useless or stupid. My kitten-rainbows are from 5pm to 8:29am daily. Then the little black rainclouds move in. ANYWAY, in the meantime, I was advised to “go have a cool drink of water” whenever I get upset; if I were to follow that advice here at work, my kidneys would be floating by 9am. Also, it confuses me why, if they are SO DISTRAUGHT BY MY ATTITUDE, they just don’t fire me. I mean, I come into work daily convinced I’ll be called into a meeting telling me to clean out my desk. Not that I ever put anything on or in my desk, not in six and a half years, because that way it’s easier to clean out once they do fire me. Sometimes I think it would be a relief, because then the other shoe will have finally dropped. 

Well, no one likes their job, probably, and there’s nothing more tiresome than job-moaning. Someday I’ll get off my ass and look for something else, but in the meantime I’m the Queen of Stasis and will sit here daily being introduced as the person who makes copies. As if I work at Kinkos. I mean, not that there’s anything WRONG with working at Kinkos. I just don’t. Work at Kinkos, I mean.

This seriously made me laugh so hard earlier today I snorted.

Anyway, ANYWAY, enough of THAT nonsense, work is work, who likes work? (If you decide to comment with a “I LIKE WORK, AMY!” I’m going to scowl at you, so yay, good for you, don’t rub salt in the wound, ok? Thanks.) There are worse jobs. What? There totally are. I could be on my feet for 8 hours a day. I could be dealing with customers 6 days a week instead of just one day a week at my part-time job. 

There are a lot of jobs I would not be good at, so on days when things are especially terrible here, I like to think of THOSE jobs, and think how much worse life would be were I to be one of those people. Here, let’s discuss some of those jobs. That’ll totally cheer me up, right? Right. 

Leader of a country 

Listen, when you’re little, people LOVE to say, “You could be PRESIDENT someday!” but who the hell wants THAT job? Mostly, being the president (or king or chancellor or grand high poobah or whatever) means everyone, everyone, EVERYONE takes offense at SOMETHING you do. If you’re lucky, your approval rating is like 62% or something. That means that almost half of your country HATES you. You probably can’t turn on the television without someone making fun of SOMETHING you did, or taking offense at something you did, or saying they would have done something you did differently. Everyone’s watching you ALL THE TIME. Sure, there are perks, like you get really good seats at the theater (but look how that turned out for Lincoln) or you get excellent food (but look how that turned out for Taft, heh, sorry, low blow, had to) or you get gifts or jewels or kids singing for you or whatnot but is it really worth it? Is it really? I mean, look at your life, once you’re president of the United States. You get yelled at for four (or eight) years, you age INSANELY (I am always amazed at the photos of presidents on inauguration day, then four years later, then, if they’re re-elected, eight years later) and then for the rest of your life, you have to be followed around by Secret Service because there’s always the chance that someone wants to be the guy (or gal) that assassinated a president. You remain in the public eye even after things are over. Your KIDS remain in the public eye. People write non-flattering books about you. It is NOT AN EASY JOB. You go in all optimistic and you leave a bitter, twisted wreck (well, if you’re smart, you do – or maybe you leave breathing a sigh of relief that THAT’S over.) No, thanks. I’ll live my life of relative obscurity. I don’t want that many people looking at me. My hair’s always a mess and sometimes I spill food on my top. I’d be made a mockery in like a week. 

Here’s Obama then & now. 4 years in presidential time = 10 years in human time, I swear.

…and here’s my man (sigh) Clinton. Shut up, I am madly in love with ol’ Bill. Always will be. Look, this is less than 10 years later. Still a total hottie, though.

Character in an amusement park 

I know, right, you’re bringing JOY to like THOUSANDS of children. No. Listen. It is HOT.

Ugh, can you just imagine how sweaty it is in there? SO GROSS.

And kids are all screaming and touching you and some of them kick you because they’re ill-behaved. And if you’re lucky, you get to be Cinderella at Disney, but if you’re not, you get to be Dorf at The Great Escape.

What? Who’s Dorf? 

Well, when I was a kid, we used to go to The Great Escape (before it became Six Flags, boo, sellout!) which is in Lake George, kind of between where I currently live and where I used to live. It was a middle-of-the-road amusement park. It used to be Storytown (I’ve totally mentioned this before, I think) and so there was a Storytown section with these run-down concrete things like the Three Little Pigs house and Red Riding Hood with most of the paint chipped off her face so she looked scabrous. I loved The Great Escape.

Aw, I totally remember these! We used to get these at the gates and PLAN our ATTACK on the place. YAY!

Anyway, their mascot was this…I don’t even know. Thing? Called Dorf. I cannot find a single reference or photo of Dorf on the internet. It’s like Dorf has been scrubbed from existence. I don’t even know that his real name WAS Dorf. I wonder if my brother and I made this up? I can’t imagine we did, how would we have come up with something like that? That “Dorf on Golf” thing wasn’t even around then, I don’t think.

It was NOT THIS. (BTW, I love Tim Conway, but this makes me disgusted. NOT FUNNY TIM CONWAY.)

ANYWAY, he kind of looked like Goofy and kind of like a cowboy and kind of like a sewer rat? And he’d be in this huge suit that looked like it weighed a million pounds and was SO SO HOT and he’d bumble around and NO ONE wanted a picture with Dorf, no one. I mean, come on. No one even knew what he WAS, let alone wanted him in their vacation photos. He’d resign himself to photobombing just to stay relevant. One time we were eating in the picnic area and he kept BOTHERING us, all coming up and dorby-dorbing around our table and my little brother, who was like 7 at the time, was all, “God, stupid DORF,” very cynically, and that made me laugh SO HARD, and I still think of it once and a while (most recently, when I was reading The Fellowship of the Ring – sorry, sj, I know you love him – and Glorfindel came up? And his name sounded like Dorf? And then I was all, “God, stupid  GLORFINDEL” and then got the giggles for like twenty minutes, so from then on whenever they mentioned his name I would start off again and I’m pretty sure that’s not what was intended at ALL. This also happens on a regular basis when I think of the Carmina Burana, because of course it was written by Carl Orff. God, stupid ORFF. Don’t get all offended. I love the Carmina Burana. It’s just anything with an “orf” sound in it that does it for me. The Mighty Morphin Power Rangers were also an issue, back when people said their name a lot. Also Worf from Star Trek.) 

Anyway, WHOO, was THAT ever a tangent. I can’t even imagine dressing in a hot, hot costume and standing in the sun all day attempting to amuse children because I hate a., heat, b., characters in amusement parks because I can’t see their faces so I find that shady, and c., children (except for YOUR children, yes YOU, who’s reading this, and of course my nephew.) 

Heh. Yep. This.

Food Service Worker 

None of our employees got fancy chef-hats, yo. We wore stained red ballcaps. It was NOT CLASSY.

I did this for a while in college. I worked in the dining hall. It was the WORST. It was HOT and people were RUDE and you went home smelling like rotting food and that never quite went away, no matter how many times you washed your hair. For a few months, I got stuck with the dishwashing shift for breakfast. ZOMG HOT TIMES A MILLION, plus it was AMAZING to me how gross people were. They’d build little towers on their trays and they’d come back in through the conveyor belt and there would be ketchup pools and napkins all torn up and towers of waffles all stuck together with syrup and I totally had to clean that shit up before putting it in the dishwasher and that dishwasher was about a zillion degrees hot. Also, once when I was working the hot food line, a girl threatened to wait for me outside and kick my ass because we were out of chicken parm, and one guy threatened to get me fired because I pronounced manicotti “manicotti” and not “manigot” like the ITALIANS do, and the last time I checked, we weren’t IN Italy, we were in a college in downstate New York and that wasn’t a fireable offense. The only thing that kept my sanity there was my friend R., who is STILL my friend (and the mom of The Baby Formerly Known as Baby Girl Awesomesauce who is now known as CeeVee.) R. made me laugh and laugh and we had the best time mocking people and singing along to the music the cooks played in the kitchen (R.! Do you remember me totally rocking out to Meatloaf? “I would do ANYTHING for LOVE! But I won’t do THAT!” Hee!) and then on our way out we’d secretly put peanut butter cups from the candy section in our work hats (shh, I think the statute of limitations for pilfering has passed, don’t you?) and then we’d eat them outside and recap our hot, hot, HOT evenings and laugh. R. made that job bearable. But I wouldn’t go back to that for anything. Gack. Also, I’d be a terrible waitress, because I’m quite unfriendly and no one would ever give me a tip and also I’m clumsy and would fall carrying food to the tables. 

Sanitation worker 

Seriously, I can’t even imagine working around garbage all the time. Can you even imagine this? It’s mind-boggling to me. Like, imagine being one of those people who has to ride on the back of a garbage truck. The SMELL would KILL me. I couldn’t even deal with that.  

This would be the worst job ever, right? I mean, seriously? I feel terrible for these people.

In related what the hell news, where I live, there is a garbage area. I feel like I told you this. Did I tell you this? Eh, if I did, pretend I didn’t. It’s huge, and there’s a place to dump your garbage, and then also a place for your recyclables and such. It’s under a big roof-thing. I’m not sure why. Maybe so birds don’t get in, I don’t know. Anyway, people are CONSTANTLY leaving couches and furniture there, because you have to pay to dump garbage at the landfill, and no one watches the garbage area. So it’s become a well-known fact that if you’re moving in the area (not just where I live, but all around) you can bring oversized garbage there and dump it and no one seems to care, even though there are signs that are all NO OVERSIZED GARBAGE. So there are always couches and mattresses and chairs and armoires and shit outside the gigantor dumpster. I swear this is going somewhere. ANYWAY, lately, this man has been SITTING ON THE COUCHES and reading a book when I come home at least 3-4 nights a week. Those couches are a., probably filled with bedbugs and all manner of vermin, and b., RIGHT NEAR AN OVERFLOWING ROTTING DUMPSTER THAT HARDLY EVERY GETS EMPTIED. You have to hold your nose to walk PAST that thing. He’s sitting probably a foot away from it, all kicked-back on someone’s sketchy potentially-infested garbage-couch, reading a book and relaxing in the shade of the garbage-roof. It is SO WEIRD. Who does that? He doesn’t seem to be homeless. I assume he lives nearby? Are his nasal passages either blocked or malfunctioning? Is he fighting with his roommates and/or wife? WHY IS HE HANGING OUT A FOOT FROM A DUMPSTER, READING? It’s not like there’s not a laundry room and a mail room, both air-conditioned, less than a parking-lot length away, that he could hang out in. I do not get this at all. 

I need to take a photo of this guy for posterity the next time I see him even though I totally have a thing against taking photos of humans in order to mock them because I’d hate it if someone did that to me. 

Anyway, ew, no, I would not want to be a sanitation worker, the smell would kill me dead in a week. 

Oh, and this has NOTHING to do with ANYTHING but this morning, there was a very very VERY loud noise on my porch and I was all WTF is it a killer? And I was all peeking out and saw nothing so I seeeecretly opened the porch door and there was a squeaking noise and a scuffle and guess what it was? A scruffy squirrel with half a tail!

Not my squirrel. Mine needed a bath and a snack. Hobo Joe was totally the squirrel your momma warned you about.

He chattered at me like I was HARSHING his BUZZ (apparently the loud noise was that he was knocking over my turtles I keep on the porch – what, you don’t keep three large garden-turtles on your porch because you don’t have a garden and they are the hear no evil see no evil speak no evil turtles? Well, that’s your problem, now, isn’t it?) and then he made himself LOW and FLAT and limboed out under my porch railing and went over to the neighbor’s porch. When I peeked over, he was watching me with a VERY angry scowl. Hee! I will name him Hobo Joe and leave him some sunflower seeds! He is my new pet! 

See? Now don’t we all feel better? Look at the worse jobs I could be doing! This has cheered me immeasurably. I could never write a totally long blogpost while doing any of those jobs, and plus at least it’s air-conditioned in here. 

I mean, I’m still going to go get a drink of cool water because I’m cranky as hell, but at least I’m not FURIOUS. That’s a total win, right? Right.

About lucysfootball

I'm not the girl with the most cake. Someday. SOMEDAY. View all posts by lucysfootball

29 responses to “Working this job is like lighting two fuses; working this job is running out of excuses

  • Cara V. (@fictionalchick)

    Totally have a job to add: Dog Semen Collector… now this job is- in part- kind of interesting because you get to be all scientific and shit… but WHAT THE FUCK? I worked as a photographer in the AKC and ended up helping one of the trainers with a bunch of dogs since most of his dogs were my clients (haha dog clients- better than people, yes). SO… one day he’s like “I need your help with Little John, I have to have him collected.” And I didn’t even focus on what he said… was just like help? I’ll help… (I’m helpful).

    Little John was a big French Mastif- for the record. Anyway, we go into this creepy ass lab and this chick is in there and she’s all cheerful and shit… she’s like “who’s holding the teaser bitch?” and Lenard (the trainer) was like “Cara will.” I’m like Cara’s doing what? Who am I holding?

    THE TEASER BITCH… and that’s exactly what it sounds like- a bitch in heat used to get male dogs going. I had to hold a female dog in FRONT but JUST OUT OF REACH of poor Little John… who… is not fucking little- AT ALL. GROSS GROSS GROSS. So this chick is just like… oh awesome and BAM just goes to work jacking the dog off… IN FRONT OF ME.

    I couldn’t even process the thoughts as they were rushing into my head and back out far too quickly… I just knew I felt like I was being violated in some way- not sure how… clearly Little John was NOT being violated… he was all kinds of happies.

    So after that was over- she goes about her business of what ever she does… while Lenard told me to go WALK LJ OUTSIDE TO HELP HIM CALM DOWN. So now I’m stuck outside with a dog in full on boner mode… smiling at passing traffic… awesome.

    So my question is this… who goes into the line of work? Who’s like, “yeah I totes want to be a dog semen collector… sounds awesome.”

    Alright I’m done adding to your already hysterical blog post… carry one, my dear.


    • Andreas Heinakroon

      Hrmf! Professional dog semen collectors use an electric rod that is used rectally to induce ejaculatory contractions without having to arouse the animal. What kind of amateurs where they?!


    • lucysfootball

      I wouldn’t even have known how to react to this. I’d have a frozen smile on my face the whole time. It sounds like it was a sorority initiation rite. “If she can do this and not freak out, she’s IN!”

      (You know, I actually thought of something similar to this when I was making this list? Because where I’m from, up in farm country, people have to collect horse & cow semen and drive it around and artificially inseminate animals, and I thought, that’d be worse than my job! Then I thought, nope, I’d actually like that more. Because at least you’d get to work with animals. I REALLY have to get a new job. It’s sad when you think artificially inseminating livestock is better than what you do, it really is.)


    • mylifeisthebestlife

      This was a truly amazing addition to the list.


  • sj

    I laughed so hard throughout this post.

    I got YELLED AT by squirrels at our last house. I’d go outside and tell them to SHUT UP because they were the loudest, and they’d yell back and shake their furry little squirrel fists at me. I swear.

    Also, thanks for the shoutout and now I can’t stop giggling at STUPID GLORFINDEL.


    • lucysfootball

      Squirrels are totally the teenage kids smoking behind the school bleachers of the animal world. They have ATTITUDE, yo!

      Hee! Stupid GLORFINDEL. :) I’m laughing right NOW.


      • sj

        STUPID GLORFINDEL! Look, even though I totes heart Glorfindel, I’m going to say that from now on. So – thanks for that.

        Also, the Zuul copier? Made my (otherwise shitty) day. <3


        • lucysfootball

          Hee! Yay for Zuul copier! I wish I knew a way to reprogram mine. Unfortunately, no one in my office would get it. I’d get an email from them, all, “Amy, the copier says it’s Zuul, what does that mean?” and I’d headdesk so hard I’d concuss.


  • Andreas Heinakroon

    Ok, first: I feel like an asshole now, complaining on Twitter about my job not having any good ice cream left and that it’s less fun playing darts on my own. There are worse things. (Although those Magnum Gold ice creams are vile. VILE!)

    Secondly: “There is no paper only zuul” had me laughing! Oooh, I so want to hack the copier at our office to say that for when everyone is coming back from holiday! Can you imagine? (I guess some people wouldn’t get it at first, but that’s what Google is for, isn’t it?)

    Thirdly: When I take over the world I will introduce incarceration for anyone making fun of me, or thinking that they could do things better. Just for their own safety, you understand. We have to protect these people from themselves.

    Fourthly: I wouldn’t really mind being a dustbin man; you start early, finish before noon and have the rest of the day off. Plus you get to drive a big honking truck with a crusher. Nice! Re that man sitting reading by the rotting dumpster: the poor fellow probably suffers from anosmia.

    And lastly: Squirrels are dirty dirty creatures! DIRTY! Don’t pick it up, it will bite you and give you herpes or something. Or lice. Or ringworm.


    • lucysfootball

      Andreas, you could murder puppies while wearing a clown suit, and you’d still not be an asshole. You’ve got a free pass with me.

      I KNOW! Isn’t that Zuul thing the BEST? That’s one of my favorite movie quotes of all time, and when I saw that I just laughed and laughed. (If they don’t get it, they’re FOOLS. Fools, I tell you! Hack your copier!)

      I can’t wait for you to take over the world. Can that be a law for people making fun of/acting superior to me, too? Or is that just a you-thing?

      Well, the guy COULD be anosmic…or he could be crazy. I’m going with crazy. He has weird eyes.

      I won’t pick up Hobo Joe. He never came back. I don’t think he loves me like I love him. *sniff*

      (I totally caught ringworm once from cuddling a stray kitten, I’m not even kidding. I’m such a dummy.)


      • Andreas Heinakroon

        I think murdering puppies dressed as a clown is more or less the definition of being an asshole.

        No one would dare making fun of my Minister of Literacy – no one!

        (I’ll look into that copier error message thing.)


        • lucysfootball

          Maybe for SOME people it would be the definition of being an asshole. Not for you! For you, it’d be ok. Free pass! FREE PASS!

          (I’m really quite loyal to my people.)


  • Charleen

    I heard once that the thing about politics is that the people who would make REALLY GOOD presidents are the ones smart enough to not want the job. Although I was at a bar a few weeks ago, and Deep Impact was on the one TV not showing sports, and my friends and I decided that Morgan Freeman should run for president.

    Oh, and the squirrel thing reminded me of this tweet by Juliana Dever. I love her, she’s so adorable. (She’s the both the real life and on-screen wife of one of the detectives on the show Castle.)


    • lucysfootball

      You’re completely right. Who’d want that job? I mean, sincerely? I mean, you might think you could make a difference, but bright-eyed optimism can only go so far.

      I am quite sad. Hobo Joe has not come back. *sigh*


  • Rich Crete

    True fact: I had a basset hound named Worf.
    He was uber stinky but he meant well.


  • elaine4queen

    i have so much to say about all of this.

    but first, be careful of your little rodent friend, because dumbcat will surely kill him in front of your very eyes, or else, worse, bring his corpse to you as a present.

    i can’t comment on ALL THE THINGS so i am going to choose smell. i have a very sensitive hooter. i think i should have been a professional ‘nose’. maybe it’s connected to us both being migraineurs? i do think, though that women have a finer sense of smell than men. and that is based on NO SCIENCE WHATSOEVER! because i don’t have a fancy science fellow. but you do…. andreas! what’s the story?


    • lucysfootball

      Dumbcat is scared of rodents. He likes to find them, then come to me all, “MOM MOM MOM I FOUND A THING!!!” and I’m like, “Dumbcat, you’re supposed to kill that thing, it’s what cats DO” and he’s like “IT IS MOVING WITHOUT ANY EXTERNAL STIMULI EEEEEE!” then hide his head under the couch. He’s…sigh. He’s so broken, that boy.

      I also have a sensitive nose! Ooh, I wonder if it IS related to our migraines? Andreas says that the scales are slightly tipped toward women, but it’s pretty evenly balanced, men and women both, with the good senses of smell.


  • jbrown3079

    I have been the guy who fixes the copier. It turned out nice, because I could take as long as I wanted and nobody would dare say “I could do that quicker.’. Then they would be the copier person. It is like tag.


    • lucysfootball

      I don’t know how I became the copier person. I’m totally good at it, though. I mean, as long as it’s a paper jam, or something like that. I don’t know how to fix mechanical stuff. OK, I take back that I’m good at it. I’m only good at in relative to the fact that the rest of my office is HOPELESS at it, and stand there flapping their arms and saying “Um…um…BROKEN! BROKEN!” when it jams. It makes me sad for them.


  • Handflapper

    I quit my last two jobs I hated in very unprofessional, un-grownup, hateful ways because I AM TOO OLD TO PUT UP WITH OTHER PEOPLE’S SHIT FOR A MILLION HOURS A WEEK. The first job I just kept calling in sick (I had told my hateful bitchtastic boss who was making me smack-dab frothing-at-the-mouth I-am-going-to-start-cutting-myself crazy to feel free to start looking for a replacement me because I was looking for a replacement job) until they told me I didn’t have to come in anymore (via registered letter, Whoo, I felt important that day!) and the second job I didn’t even bother calling, I just quit going. And that seems to have pretty much soured me on jobs for now, because now I just stay home and dick around on the interwebs and play with Hellbaby and break sewing machines.


    • lucysfootball

      Oh, I want to do that. My dad told me tonight that he hopes the book makes me a million dollars because with my attitude I’m probably going to be unemployable soon. THANKS, DAD. Wonder who taught me my “damn the man, I hate being told what to do” attitude? Oh, wait, that’s right, DAD DID.

      Nah, that’s not true. I don’t mind “the man,” as long as the man’s not wearing an asshat and riding in a douchecanoe, you know?


  • lahikmajoe

    Work is for the working class.


    • lucysfootball

      Dammit. When’d I become the proletariat?

      Oh, when I was 13 and got my first job, I suppose. Sigh.


      • lahikmajoe

        We really need to work on arranging for you a benefactor, so you can develop your #idling skills.


        • lucysfootball

          Yes, please. They are really broken, my idling skills. I don’t even know how to idle. I haven’t idled efficiently in probably a year or more. I wouldn’t even begin to know how. Plus, whenever I try, I feel guilty. Find me that benefactor, ok? You’re a big-shot now, you know people. MAKE IT HAPPEN.


  • mylifeisthebestlife

    And now I TOTALLY need see no evil hear no evil speak no evil turtles. Or maybe some other animal so it’s not blatant plagiarism of your idea? Raccoons? Macaws?


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