I Don't Think I Want To Work At Douchebags 'R Us Anyway

Had a really simple job today; just a guy who had a job interview that didn't go well. We'll call him Ken. So Ken ends up in a bar, drowning the sorrows, or at least holding their heads down in the water long enough to scare the fuck out of them. I think that sounds like a more appropriate metaphor anyway. You can never kill your sorrow completely, just contain it, hold it off or drive it away. Think of every beer as one head dunk, like in the war movie torture scenes. And be reasonable, because if you do it too often, you'll become a monster.

Anyway, that's a nice segway, because he described the interview like it was torture. No questions about his experience or skill, just a lot of figurative stress questions, scenarios he had trouble speaking to because they didn't really relate to his his experience. "Give an example of how you handled a project going awry because of an internal mistake."

"He wasn't being very specific," said Ken, who writes for a travel magazine. "And every time I would try to answer, like, 'Well, one time a tourism company wouldn't approve the fact check on a coverage article by press time-"

"No, I mean something internally."

"We just don't have issues like that. We sit and write. And every time I tried to think of something, he'd go, 'No, that's not the sort of thing I mean.'"

"Look at it this way," I said, "Would you want to work for someone like that?"

"Actually, no. I'm just really unhappy where I am."

"Yeah, that happens. But that doesn't mean everywhere else you go, it's gonna be better. You're better off holding out for a better opportunity then working for that fucktard."

"Yeah, I guess so," he said, not a hundred percent sure, but at least in a better place than when I found him. I still felt bad for the guy. Not everyone can have a dream job like I do.

Enemies: A Functioning Mutual Respect Story

Sashial and I went to see the bombers today for the first time this year. It was against Chicago, so Suzanne came with us too. I made sure to sit between them because I was afraid Suzanne would agitate Sashial. Sashial doesn't really hate anyone per se, but I think Suzanne's bubbly demeanor is the sort of thing she'd avoid if given the choice. When Suzanne showed up wearing a Chicago shirt, Sashial looked a little annoyed. "Isn't it insulting for her to walk into our house with that on?"

She was still learning ballgame etiquette. "Not if it's for the guys we're playing. If you're just supporting your team it's ok. Wearing rival colors for no reason is out of line."

Later on, Sashial kind of turned the tables on me when they made the safety announcement. At the beginning of every game, they give a warning that sections close to the field may susceptible to balls and various equipment flying into the stands, so stay alert. I said to Sashial, "If I made that announcement, it would say, 'If you have enough money to be sitting in a section close enough to be hit with a ball, then screw you, you probably deserve to get plunked in the fucking head every once in a while you rich motherfucker.'"

She wasn't laughing. "That's a fucking horrible thing to say. Having money or a better seat doesn't make you any more or less worthy of existing without misfortune, you know that." I told her she was right and apologised, and just then Chicago made a strong defensive play that got a cheer out of Suzanne. Sashial leaned in and asked, "Is she gonna fucking do that the whole time?"

"Well, she is from Chicago," I said, "it's her prerogative."

She shook her head. "Fuckin' 'ell."

Turned out it wasn't much of an issue because the bombers went on to destroy Chicago in a big time blowout. The big surprise was at the end, when Sashial, buzzing from the victory, said to Suzanne, "You should come with us next time!" When I gave her a confused look, she said, "What? She brought us luck!" Well, Suzanne is an angel, after all.