RevSpork

Unemployment, Day Zero

Around 3:45pm yesterday afternoon, I punched out my timecard for the last time at the Evanston Borders.  Almost four and a half years at the gig, I punched in, did some retail crap, punched out, and went home.  This time I placed my timecard not in its regular slot, but in the adjacent column, reserved for those of ex-employees.  Tori met me at the store, I said my goodbyes, and we left. 

In the last year or so, I bought red velvet cake for departing managers, supervisors, or long-time employees, occasionally passing around a card if noone else had the time.  For my own departure, I received neither, nor did I expect them.  For the most part, I was a nondescript bookstore drone, working hard, being my obnoxious self, trying to get the merchandising done.  I asked little from my employees, and I received about the same.  I wasn't very popular; I had a reputation for being an inconsistent, somewhat bizarre alien force who tried to fit in but failed miserably.  I wasn't entirely unlikable, but I had my moments.

Not that I received neither cards nor cakes: Ross, my best friend at work and fellow Windy City Rollers fan, dropped by Friday on his day off to deliver a good luck card, and Tori had a red velvet cake (made at the Swedish Bakery) waiting for me in the fridge when we got home.  Oddly enough, yesterday I had received a postcard from a customer I had assisted with a special order that had gotten lost, thanking me for my excellent customer service.  Although my "excellent customer service" skills had been eroding quite a bit since the last holiday season, I was happy at least one customer appreciated my help. 

I had worked at Borders since early 2004; it was my longest stay at a full-time job.  I'm very proud I managed to remain at a job for so long, and satisfied that I left on my own terms.  I am now unemployed, the first time in five years.  I'm not entirely certain what to do or where to go next, only that it not be retail.  Retail sustained my financial being, but it did nothing for my professional or my personal growth.  Working at a bookstore can be a load of laughs, but it kept me a 25-year old - a balding, aging man trying to be young and goofy and flirty.  I love acting that way - I firmly believe my immaturity prevented me from sinking into cynicism and despair - but there are places for that behavior, and work isn't one of them.  My desire to be "one of the kids" and my painful awareness of the futility (and impropriety) of this desire coiled into a tightrope I was doomed to fall off of, day after day.  Now that I've freed myself from a job that was unhealthy for me, I have the opportunity to restart my life as a 37-year old. 

Could this have been done without quitting my job?  And having no job waiting for me?  Perhaps.  From the minute I made my decision to leave Borders, I knew I was taking a risk.  I'm essentially trusting myself to make considerable changes to both my professional life (at a time when jobs are scarce) and personal habits (never my biggest strength).  But I knew that as I long as I worked at Borders, I lacked the energy and resolve to do so.  My job sapped both. 

So for the next whatever number of days, weeks, months (hopefully weeks), I will be a househusband, cleaning up the apartment, cooking dinner, making lunches for the wife, and blogging like crazy.  In fact, I plan to blog daily for the next month.  Enjoy the extra fare.  I know I will between looking for work and cleaning cat poop.

Early in the morning

So what happens when I go to bed at 9pm?  I wake up at 2:45am and can't get back to sleep. 

This may be for the best.  The weather promises to be hot and humid all week, and to save money, we have A/C only in our bedroom.  The cats don't seem to care; they hang out in the hot apartment and stretch out, but I'm not made of strong stuff.  I hate humid heat and always have.  So what I may do is nap during the day in my air-conditioned bedroom and work at night. 

Nothing new on the job-search front.  I applied to four jobs in the last week but have heard no responses.  That's not much output for a serious job hunt, but I promise to pick up steam over the next week or so.

In the meantime, I'm getting my medical care taken care of before I lose my insurance.  I'm getting my meds set up next week, going to the dentist, all that schtuff.  The wife and I are discussing my being put on her insurance plan, but that promises to be expensive, so we haven't made a clear decision on that yet. 

So what's happening in your world?  No, really - what's up?

Hail, Giardia! And other observations

I'm going to mostly stick to other observations.  I got giardia from my cats three weeks ago, suffered mightily for a week, recovered for two weeks, and now I'm most likely sick with it again.  And in case you wish me to describe what the hell giardia is, go Google it on your own time.  It's too disgusting for me to discuss.  And when *I* say something is too disgusting to discuss, you know damned well it ain't a walk in the park.

Here's a question for you all: WHY THE FUCK DOES ONE FUCKING BOX OF KRAFT MACARONI AND CHEESE COST $1.29?  Yes, kids, a fucking dollar and twenty-nine fucking cents. (Of course, if you add Chicago's 10.25 percent sales tax, it now costs $1.42.)  For KRAFT macaroni & cheese.  Not the spiral shit, not dinosaur-shaped pasta.  Not Annie's 12-Cheese and Pomegranate Flavor organic crap, either.  Just Kraft mac and cheese.  You know, the Cheesiest?  The simple blue and orange box with the Kraft logo and the Cheeto-colored powder inside and the 39-cent price tag?  THAT ONE?!?  And no, I wasn't shopping at some yuppie grocery at Old Town, either, just my local cheap-ass grocery store.  A buck twenty-nine.  For one box.  Of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.  One fucking box.  And I'm not so fucking old that a 39-cent box of Kraft Mac and Cheese is the product of my childhood, because when I was a kid it cost twenty-five cents.  THAT'S RIGHT, ONE FUCKING QUARTER, NOT FIVE.  And only two years ago it cost me 69 cents for a box, so don't tell me it's gradual inflation.  This is fucking unnatural, as unnatural as the damned dinner itself.  I'll pay five bucks for a gallon of gas, but I'll be damned if I'm coughing up nearly a dollar and a half for some heavily processed cheesy pasta product, even if it is fucking yummy.  Fuck Kraft.

On a lighter note, I've been reading about Armageddon, and I had a thought: what if the Rapture happened just last week, and we didn't notice because only the crazy Christian bums who hollered at you on the street were lifted to heaven?  Boy, wouldn't that make the end of the world a fun little surprise.  "Yeah, Brad, I haven't seen that screaming lady with the bulging eyes on the Red Line in weeks either, come to think of it.  Say, what's that red stuff dripping off the moon?"

I got home at 3:30 in the morning last night.  Long night of drinking?  Snagged a young cashier to end Independence Day with a bang?  No.  I was going to leave Oak Park's fireworks display for home at around 11pm last night.  That was when my friend elmegil whipped out his wii.  I would estimate we played Boom Blox for over three hours before we realized we were two middle-aged men playing a video game past 2am and giggling like schoolgirls at a sleepover because we kept "losing our baby cows."  I also suspect that, about forty years from now, we'll be tired of discussing various poop-related problems and, after a few minutes of silence, one of us will blurt out, "all baby cows are lost!" after which we'll burst out laughing and not stop until we pass out from exhaustion.

Speaking of exhaustion, I'm going to bed.  Sweet dreams, kids.

Burning questions - 4th of July edition

1. A prime number is defined as a number divisible only by 1 and itself.  Why isn't 1 a prime number?  (Hint: mathematicians took the wussy way out.)

2. What will replace pomegranates as the next fad fruit?

3. Why in the heck do my cats have more health problems in two months than my previous pair of cats had in the three years I owned them?

4. Aw man, does this mean I have to eat Big Macs again in support of Mickey D's?

5. Could you imagine a better reason to vote Barack Obama into the White House than this?  (I'm sure you could, but you have to admit, this one has to be in your top 20.)

6. Do you think these people are totally cool or utterly horrifying?  And are you one of them?

53 months and I'm done

I turned in my letter of resignation today.  My boss will no doubt see it later today, we'll discuss it, I'll make it public, and that'll be the end of that.

I feel a little nervous because I'm taking a big chance.  I don't have a job waiting for me.  However, I simply can't take the stress anymore. 

You wanna know what I'm tired of?  I'll tell ya what I'm tired of:

- I'm tired of throwing out crazy people, rambunctious teenagers, and homeless people sleeping in the cafe.

- I'm tired of arguing with stupid people who want me to honor coupons they "forgot to print."  Do they do this at Jewel?

- I'm tired of the company's constant cost-cutting.  At my store, they've radically cut our payroll, cut our inventory by nearly half, and taken away a large chunk of holiday pay.  Hell, they've taken away the staff's free coffee and tea.  Yes, the company is in trouble, but *free coffee?*  Lemme tell ya, free coffee costs literally pennies to the company.

- I'm tired of my manager bitching at me and the other supervisors on the sales floor.  That's beyond tacky. 

- I'm tired of not getting a pay raise, which I haven't received in over two years. 

- I'm tired of feeling there's no future at the store or the company.

- I'm tired of the company's brass, who arrive at the company with no experience in the bookselling industry - or even an interest in books - and who think selling books is just like selling any other widget.

- I'm tired of being so stressed at work that I carry it home with me, even dreaming about the bookstore when I go to sleep.  Sometimes I'm afraid to  sleep because I don't want to go back to work. 

- Finally, I'm tired of constantly mutating work shifts that take me away from my wife and friends. 

These nine grievances normally don't bother me at once; sometimes it's four of them, other times six, other times two.  Nowadays, however, it's all nine weighing me down, making me tired and depressed.  Sometimes all it takes for my energy levels to drop is walking through the front door.  It's not fair for me, and it's not fair for Tori, and it's not fair for the people around me.  I simply can't live like this anymore. 

This month I will be busy looking for a new job.  I'll update my resumes yet again, write cover letters (which I *hate*), get my teeth and suit cleaned, and engage in job hunting-related activities.  I'm financially stable enough to hold out for a couple of months, but I can't afford to sit on my butt. 

My last day will be Saturday the 26th.  Anyone wanna party?

In my opinion...

1. ...there is no South Side of Chicago.  I prefer to call that particular segment of northeastern Illinois West Gary, although I'm not totally unopposed to North Joliet.

2. ...I'd like to see Prohibition come back, if only so Wrigleyville might find something else to do.

3. ...George Carlin is in heaven, and he's totally pissed off about it.

4. ...George W. Bush and Dick Cheney are traitors to the nation, and should be tried and punished as such. 

5. ...never, not even in the case of opinion #4, should the death penalty be used.  The state should not murder murderers any more than they would rape rapists.   

6. ...we really, really should consider selling Florida back to Spain.  Heck, we could throw in a case of merlot and Alabama to seal the deal. 

7. ...the United States is the most neurotic country in the world.  What else can explain purity balls and Tila Tequila? 

8. ...the main difference between dogs and cats is that cats have pride but no dignity; dogs have neither. 

9. ...if women have to cover their chests in public, so do men.  I don't care how hot it is.  Get your shirt on, dammit.

10. ...the best sports team in Chicago aren't the Cubs or the Sox, the Bulls or the Bears: it's the Windy City Rollers, and if you disagree, well, you suck. 

More fun with iTunes

A couple weeks back, I specifically forbade Tori from using my account to download Journey songs, especially the horrid power ballads like "Faithfully," which are so full of wretch and poo, I'd probably tolerate "MacArthur Park" over such dreck. I put my foot down in the interests of musical purity, which made her all the more surprised when she discovered I had downloaded some Cheap Trick tunes. Amk I being a hypocrite, or is Cheap Trick simply a hundred times cooler than Journey, 70s/80s pop rock-wise?

In the meantime, if you like your podcasts, try these out for size:

- Best* Church of God - less than ten minutes long, the sermons are nevertheless hilarious. Pastor Dave's attacks on menstruation and yeast (yeast for bread), and his description of heaven are priceless. Lest you take Pastor Dave seriously, his church services can be attended Sunday mornings at Danny's Skybox here in Chicago - yes, at Second City. Check out http://www.bestchurchofgod.org/ for more info.

- The Bugle - Join John Oliver (Of "The Daily Show") and Andy Zaltzman for their riotous weekly British podcast. If you don't laugh at least once during their half-hour shows, you're not alive. Go to the (London) Times website to tune in.

- Don't Quit Your Day Job - A spinoff of the uproariously funny "We're Mean Because You're Stupid," Melanie and Jerry's podcast is nerdier but somewhat more mature version of the former show. You like sci-fi/fantasy/writing about sci-fi and fantasy? Welcome aboard. Their geekiness, however, is very genuine and thus entertaining, especially if you're a geek. Don't deny it.

- Remember When - speaking of geeky...Parris and Jay are possibly the geekiest people on earth. Listen to them argue about movies, movies, comic books, Voltron, and movies. The podcasts are very long (usually more than an hour) and could use some editing, but P & J's rapport is undeniable. These guys are True Nerds and True Fans of their nerdy interests, which makes the whole thing just bearable enough to listen through. And I'm glad I'm not the only person who tears up towards the end of "The Iron Giant" when the robot meets his "doom."

- Mr. Deity - The show is currently between seasons, but the three-minute video podcasts are not to be missed. There are twenty episodes total at mrdeity.com, and you should watch them all. The show is composed of four characters: Mr. Deity Himself, a neurotic, gray-haired fellow who is far less omnipotent than he thinks; Larry, his assistant/universe architect, without whom the universe would be more screwed up than it already is; Jesse/Jesus, the likably dumb actor who's really not into the crucifixion thing; and Lucy, who runs Hell and whose on-and-off relationship with Mr. Deity keeps him confused and her frustrated. Don't miss how Mr. Deity actually brought light to the universe.

Well, that's it folks. I'm going to finish my Sedaris book.

Hillary's hardcore supporters - the new Freepers

They're a leeeeeetle bit crazy.  At shown here, the last of the Clintonistas obviously have some issues.  This forum (not endorsed by Clinton or her campaign) is literally Chock Full O' Nuts, whose paranoia, false hopes, and logical mazes make Freepers seem like the epitome of sanity. 

As a result, of course, my wife is addicted to the forum.  She loves reading the Freepers for the same reason she loves Maury Povich: the entertainment value.  The Hillary Clinton Forum injects a whole new shot of electronic fun for her, and if it weren't for the lack of air conditioning in the office, I may never see her again. 

Take, for example, this thread linking Obama supporters to cultism.  Yes, all you Obama supporters: you are the member of a Kool-Aid drinkin', possibly Satan-worshipping, virgin-slaying cult.  Why, Tori and I, who have supported Obama since before he ran for the Senate, are the high priest and priestess in our neighborhood Obamabot cult.  (Wonder why Edgewater's pigeon population has dropped this year?  I'll never tell in a public forum; you'll just have to sign up, preferably using your severed pinky that serves as our donation fee.  No virgin blood, please; our fridge is already overstocked.)  Tori can't get enough of these folks with their all-caps spluttering about a conspiracy in the Democratic Party, their determination to vote for McCain, their increasingly-strained hopes that Senator Obama will be caught on tape, for example, taking thousands of dollars from NAMBLA or fellating a goat, allowing Hillary Clinton to rescue the Democrats just in time for the Denver convention in August.  Then again, she does like watching Maury Povich.

What worries me about these wackos is that if Barack Obama (or his wife Michelle, also a target of the hardcore Clintonistas) is the victim of an assassination attempt, it will be these people, not ultra-right wing Freeper Republicans, who may be inspired to try.  Fed by seventeen months of an extra-long primary march, defeated by whom they consider a second-tier candidate, betrayed by Hillary Clinton herself, with a dash of increasingly hard-to-conceal racism, more than a few of these tired souls may snap.  I don't worry about the Republicans - they have their candidate, they're becoming used to him, and their animosity towards Obama strikes me as typical GOP/Dem bashing - but these orphans have no candidate (aside from McCain, whom some waste no time latching onto merely for the fact that he's not Obama), the slightest of hopes, and a bitterness thick enough to deflect both reason and acceptance.  And when Hillary addresses the Democratic convention in August and fully throws her weight behind Obama, some of these folks might not be able to endure the strain. 

So it's funny now, all these loonies dribbling about conspiracy and comparing Barack Obama to Hitler (oh yes, they've done that too), but to be honest, I hope it stays that way.

Like Harry Potter ... with fewer kids

In what could be our store's last hurrah, David Sedaris will be reading and speaking at my home away from home.  The store itself has been going through a major decline in the past year, and given all the staff cuts, this may be the last major event our store gets.  I, of course, will be working that night, but I won't have time to listen to Mr. Sedaris, as I will be busy containing the crowds and hoping chaos doesn't break out.  And if you wish to be part of the chaos, pick up your wristband at 2pm the day of the reading.  And buy the book.  And wish me luck.

Mimi.

Mimi, the Slightly Less Evil One. Oh, but she's still evil. Don't let that sleepy cute look fool you. She loves food, food, and Tori giving her food.  And food.  And her mousie.  And trying to poop in my basil.