Today, I woke up at noon and watched some television. Then, I went to the shopping mall to buy some new BZ-200's, since my old ones had a little hole in them. There's going to be a great game on today -- the San Francisco 49ers versus the Cleveland Trailblazers. It's going to be a great game. Tony Kornheiser always hustles. After the game, I'm going to go to McDonald's for dinner and then to Bally's to work out (after I go home to change into my workout clothes).
Then, when it starts to get dark, I'll get really excited because I like to go out at night -- it makes me feel 'dangerous' and 'exciting.' I'll probably go to a bar and drink Heineken (the really good stuff), but it'll be at night. Cool.
On Sunday I'll think about going to church, but decided not to go and feel guilty. Then I'll watch TV again, and maybe go to McDonald's again too. If the weather's nice, I'll celebrate by washing my car and maybe doing some yardwork, because it's important to keep your lawn looking nice. There will probably be a good Sunday movie on TV in the evening.
On Monday, my alarm will go off at 5am so I have time to make myself look good for work and the hour-and-a-half-long commute. I'll get in my car and drive to work. I don't mind rush-hour so much, because it's the only time I get to be alone. Also, I get to be inside my sexy, clean Mazda 4500, which I'll be done paying off in only another 6 years. My job is the best, because I earn a lot of money and can afford to buy a lot of things on credit, which keeps me motivated to keep working in a high-pressure, challenging, exciting job so I can pay all of my bills at the end of the month. Sometimes I have trouble with that, but the credit card companies never seem to mind too much if I just make the minimum payment; they're really nice about it.
I usually stay late at work, maybe until 6:30pm or so, because there always seems like there's one more thing to do, and I need to earn my salary. So, I get home around 8pm, and luckily that's just in time to catch my favorite show, 'The Comish.' It's almost as if things were timed that way; I feel really lucky, and as if someone's watching over what I do and taking care of me. It's a nice feeling. I'll keep on watching TV, sort of flipping channels, until about midnight. I'm really tired when 5am comes around, but it doesn't matter because I have all of that free time on the weekends when I can catch up on my sleep.
I used to think about retiring early, about saving money so I wouldn't have to work when I'm 60 or 70. But the problem is that there are just so many bills and things that I need, it's impossible to save any money.
When I'm 65 I'll retire, and have to move into an apartment. It won't be so bad, except for the roaches, which really only come out at night anyway. I'll watch a lot more television than I used to. Then I'll move into a rest home, and watch more TV. Finally, I'll get cancer and be moved to a hospital, where thankfully the doctors will fight to keep me alive until the very last minute. There a TV will be suspended over my bed. But it's ok. My bills are all payed. I'll have lived a good life, and I'm grateful.
Here is an exchange on the sdf bulletin board between the sysadmin and me, relating to my head injury:
Wow, it actually tells you to 'wait' for the changes to take affect when you make your changes .. Just read the text as it is displayed on your screen and you won't need to ask questions ;-)
:(
Some of us are poor readers.
In 1997, I sustained a traumatic brain injury in a motor pedestrian accident. I like to break down the residua thusly:
1. Explosiveness -- I can lose my temper really easily, as evidenced by the numerous holes in my walls ;)
2. Proneness to overstimulation -- if too many things are going on at once, i tend to shut down. This is especially prevalent at social gatherings and parties.
3. Memory -- just isn't what it used to be, although sometimes I think it's getting better.
4. Problems with fluid reasoning -- if circumstances are changing, I have trouble recognizing the new set of problems that needs to be solved, and end up being stuck on old ones.
And finally...
5. Visual tracking/processing -- makes reading very difficult for me (yes, even my own writing). Also, I can look within 6 inches of something and not see it; sort of a tunnel vision.
Just wanted not to give an excuse for not RingTFM, but just to give you some idea why an otherwise relatively smart guy has sine obvious cognitive gaps :)
Wow.. Thanks for the explanation. I'll try to go slow with you.
RTFM ('read the fucking manual') -- a response or attitude encountered frequently in unix communities and techy usenet groups that implies one should try to find information one's self in available documentation, rather than take up time, bandwidth, and intellectual energy asking silly questions. Related: STWF ('search the fucking web').
RTFM and cognitive disabilities don't mix well.
Cognitive disabilities are particularly hard to for society to swallow because they amount to a deficit in intelligence. 'intelligence' is a loaded word, and people who have had brain injuries are reluctant to say that they are dumber because of their experiences. They usually simply alter their own definition of intelligence so that it doesn't include whatever particular deficits they experience. I'm inclined to think of this approach as an example of succumbing to the 'no true scotsman' logical fallacy.
ian: no scotsman puts sugar in his porridge.
joe: but my friend angus puts sugar in his porridge.
ian: ah, but no *true* scotsman puts sugar in his porridge.
However, the definition of intelligence, unlike scotsman (one who is from scotland) is complicated and open to interpretation.
In·tel·li·gence (n)
1. The capacity to acquire and apply knowledge.
2. The faculty of thought and reason.
3. Superior powers of mind.
According to definitions 1 and 2 and the language I use (and my team of experts uses) to describe my own deficits, my intelligence has been damaged.
I have problems with acquiring some knowledge. Unix, html, the trumpet, ms windows, numerous software, and lots of philosophy were all learned after my brain injury, but if I'm not interested in the thing I'm learning it's much more difficult to 'acquire' it. Also, I react badly to people telling me I should learn something (and in general to any orders). The problem is, I know that this was always true of me (and largely everyone else), and I don't know to what degree my inability to learn things I don't give a shit about is a product of my head injury. As far as applying that knowledge goes, I think I'm all right at that. I can't think of any examples of a failing, anyway.
I don't have a problem with thought -- if anything, I think too much, over-analyzing everything and formulating theories to explain it. Reason is a mixed bag. I think I'm pretty deductive and logical about most things, especially when I write, and don't have to involve anything (emotions, interaction, physical movement, etc) except my own cerebral cortex. However, 'fluid reasoning' is a problem (the 'fluid' refers either to dynamic problems or the fluidity of the problem-solving thought processes). I'll give an example: if I have in my right hand my keys, and in my left hand the mail, and I see my wallet on the table that needs to go into my bookbag, then I'll sort of freeze up. It's like I can't go through the steps of what to do in my head. I'll imagine putting the keys down, but then I'll wonder where to put them, and then if I'll need both hands to manipulate my wallet, etc. My problems with fluid reasoning is related to a problem with over-analyzing things. This makes sense, since my right brain was the damaged hemisphere; I can't intuitively and 'fluidly' know how to resolve a keys/wallet/mail/bookbag situation, so I have to puzzle through it step by step. I need to use logic in ways that other people don't.
I've found that if I just say 'screw it' and simply act in a situation like that, I can avoid getting stuck. For example, I've learned to recognize that I'm about to get stuck, and simply do one thing, like put something down. Then, the complexity of the situation is reduced, and I can perform another step, like putting a second thing down. If I take it one step at a time, thinking no more than one move ahead, then the keys/wallet/mail/bookbag problem becomes solvable.
The more abstract a problem is, the more able I am to solve it. My brain functions well on its own, but if this is confounded with emotions and my motor cortex, problems start to evolve. This is one reason I think martial arts (specifically sparring) would be helpful to me (problem solving and fluid reasoning involving both emotions and the motor cortex -- ideal cognitive therapy).
As far as superior powers of mind go, my powers of mind are superior in some ways and inferior in others.
Here is my own definition of 'intelligence:'
Intelligence (n)
1. The firing of electrical signals in the brain.
2. Abilities in pattern recognition, creativity and memory.
As if my password-protection didn't reduce my blog traffic enough, here are yesterday's unique IPs. I've x-ed out and eliminated bits of information, since I Care About Your Privacy (and don't want to get yelled at by my friends for posting their IP addresses):
| ip address | reverse DNS | whois | conclusion or guess |
| 162.119.64.xxx | none available | kaiser permanente medical care program in walnut creek, CA. | walnut creek is close enough to sanfran that I'm thinking it must be one of my contacts there. However, who do I know that works at kaiser permanente? Possibly anna, peter's wife? She's a nurse. Or it might be a family member there. Or it might just be a coincidence. The funny thing is, this person, 162.119.64.xxx, is one of my most consistent readers. I'd be curious to find out who it is. The last hit came at 6pm EST, after I enabled password-protection. However, if this person had simply left their browser window open, then I don't think .htaccess would have prompted them for a password. The first hit from 162. Was at 7pm on the 17th, EST (password not enabled). Then, a series of hits from 162. Came around 6pm on the 18th, EST (I'd estimate I enabled the password at around 3 in the afternoon yesterday). So, this person either is 1. A stranger who left his/her browser window open for 24 hours, or 2. An acquaintance who knows my gf's first name. I feel like I'm going crazy. |
| 24.241.206.xxx | ip-wv-24.241-206-xxx.charterwv.net | charter communications in charleston, WV. | this is ana. Not only do I recognize her IP address on sight, but she's told me her IP is charter. |
| 213.39.144.xxx | c144xxx.adsl.hansenet.de | RIPE network coordination centre in amsterdam, NL. | interesting, because the reverse-DNS resolves to a .de address (germany), but whois tells me 'the netherlands.' conclusions drawn from reverse-DNS are always as or more specific, though. I wonder if this might be dennis, a german friend I met at SIGGRAPH, and whom I keep abreast of internet projects. |
| 128.110.27.xx | mmac-xx.mlmc.utah.edu | university of utah in salt lake city, UT. | i wonder if this is maddox. Hehe. That'd be funny (he's in salt lake city). But really, I have no idea. It seems this hit came on march 18th at 00:05:53 UTC, so 7pm on the 17th EST. This was before I password-protected my blog, so if it is indeed maddox, I'm going to lose his readership. Bummer. |
| 216.15.50.xxx | gth.md.cable.rcn.com | RCN corporation in princeton, NJ. | this is nick. Not only do I recognize his IP address on sight, but he's told me his IP is RCN. Also, reverse-DNS comes right out and says 'gaithersburg.' |
| 129.252.168.xx | none available | university of south carolina in columbia, SC. | i fantasize about this being esr, who I know has some electronic connection to the U of SC (his blog is hosted there, for one thing). Another reader who's going to be lost to the password, if indeed it's not someone who knows me. |
| 52.159.30.xxx | eurx.dupont.com | dupont in wilmington, DE. | god, who knows. This is creepy; it's probably some chemical weapons contractor. I'll be happy to lose this reader. |
| 69.140.238.xxx | nrockv01.md.comcast.net | comcast communications in rockville, MD. | I'm 99% certain this is my friend's sister-in-law. |
Now I'm all upset again about my blog password. I hate losing readers, but I have no other choice, since I've been applying for jobs lately. The only other option I have is to remove the link on my main site to my blog (I've already taken my name out of this blog). Actually, I think I'll do that. Then, when google crawls this site again and removes my name from its cache, I'll take off the password protection. Let me add that to my .htaccess note. Now, I'll remove the link to my blog on db.net. Mwa ha ha ha...the corporate stooges will never find me now.
To Whom It May Concern:
I saw ____'s ad in the ____ this morning, and I'm interested in filling the position of administrative assistant. I have had several years of office-administrative experience, and am eager to support an ____ company, with which I feel my ____ background would mesh well.
I recently graduated with honors from UMBC with a degree in Imaging and Digital Arts, receiving the Visual Arts Award for Academic Excellence in 2002. Additionally, I've received numerous other commendations over the years for both academic and work performance.
From browsing your website, I see that ____ is a small but growing ____ company with a vested interest in both its employees and the community; an organization that hasn't forgotten its "small business roots." I would enjoy working for you.
Thanks for reading and considering.
Sincerely,
A Supplicant
God damn it -- so close and yet so far.
I re-enabled .htaccess, which protects my blog from unwanted readers (specifically, people who don't know my girlfriend's first name, or how to spell it backwards). I was thinking that since I just applied for three jobs today (!), a hiring decision might very well be impacted by the presence of 'i hate everyone I want to kill humans die die die' or my extended resume (which actually doesn't portray my job performance very fairly or accurately) in my blog.
For the sake of self-pity and more interesting writing, I often exaggerate the 'bad things.' for instance, I don't think anyone who knows me thinks I'm anywhere near as psychotic as I appear in my blog. When I sit here, thinking through my fingers onto my unix terminal, I tend to get really angry. A few weeks ago I theorized something about how social isolation leads to egomania which leads to aggression, and I think that theory might have some merit -- internet geeks tend to get really belligerent and angry when they rant and rave alone in their blogs, on usenet, in chatrooms, or on bulletin boards. There's something about the internet that turns people (especially simpering, acquiescing nerdy people) into angry assholes.
Well, actually, let me rephrase that: there's something about real life that turns people into grinning softies.
When one see another human being, one often reacts with happiness. We can't help it -- it's programmed into our socially adapted DNA to react in a friendly way towards other people, so we can foster interpersonal cooperation. Of course, it's also programmed that we act in a competitive way. I guess we react both ways -- 'friendly competition'? I dunno, I'm stretching here. But it's largely impossible to be as belligerent a prick in real, face-to-face interaction as it is on the internet. This might be because there could be physical consequences to being that belligerent in real life, which are safely avoided while sitting behind a monitor.
This all reminds me of the discussion of whether depression is a sickness while happiness is the normal state, or perhaps the more reasonable assumption that depression is the normal state ('life is suffering' -- buddha) and happiness is a bit of chemical trickery to fool us into not lying down in the middle of the road in a puddle of mocha-mint and tears when we drop our ice cream cones.
People don't like this theory: that something like depression, suffering and misery is the norm, and happiness flies in the face of any logical reaction to external circumstances. But I'm afraid it might be true. I've read online from several sources that the percentage of americans who HATE their job is 70%-90%. HATE. That's a great deal. One must work, subjugate one's self to hierarchy, debase one's self and relinquish all pride and ideology simply not to starve or freeze to death. Our loved ones die, our bodies fail, violence and hatred soak the very fabric of society to the bone, and our earth is slowly dying.
What more logical reaction to all of this than 'life is suffering'? Buddha on prozac -- that's a thought. What if the buddha had been a 'glass is half full' kinda guy? Then the necessity for his spiritual solution to the pain of existence never would have been created. Similarly, kierkegaard never would have written _sickness unto death_, nietzsche never would have written _thus spake zarathustra__, etc. So maybe the fact that life is suffering makes us all stronger, smarter, and more spiritually advanced. We can, with our strength, transcend the fact that life is indeed a miserable shithole by simply accepting that it is.
One of the sources of suffering, I've found, is thinking about the future. For instance, if I analyze what I'm doing THIS VERY INSTANT IN TIME (typing the letter 'c'), and I wonder to myself 'did I suffer at that instant?' the answer is 'no, silly.' when I think about taking the garbage out, I might dread it. I might consider trudging into the kitchen, fishing the bag out of it's stinky cubbyhole, tying it up, getting some rotten and fetid brown sauce on my fingers, and toting the bag outside. But if I stopped, during the very instant when I bent over to fish the garbage bag out of it's can, felt the stretching of muscles in my back, looked at the colors in the garbage, wondered about the smell of the garbage, and heard the buzz of the dishwasher while electric light gently warmed my shirt, and asked myself if I was suffering, my answer would be 'no.' suffering is a product of the illusion of the future.
Buddha said that suffering is a product of desire. That wanting something, and then dwelling on this wanting -- covetousness -- is the root of misery. I think dwelling on desire and not living in the moment are likely the same thing.
I wonder if anyone will email me for the password to my blog.
Now it's too cold. I don't mind the cold (or for that matter the heat) per se, but when moisture is introduced into the air it makes either unbearable. Hot seems even hotter, cold seems even colder, and the margin for experiencing the climate as 'just right' narrows to a hairline. It's damp right now, and so it seems even colder than it is. I love the feel of a cold, crisp day (i think 'crisp' means 'dry,' actually), but cold, damp days seem to penetrate immediately past my skin and seep into my bones.
I like discreetness in environmental elements. For instance, imagine a muddy field, covered in puddles of murky water. The air is misty and overcast, and bits of industrial pollution as well as actual droplets of water are floating around in the air. The light is perfectly diffused throughout the scene, and everything is a uniform shade of grey. Something like this:
Now imagine a crystal lake, it's shores lined with cliffs comprised of angular, sharp rocks. The sky is impossibly blue, and the thin air facilitates visibility for miles. Something like this:
I like the latter environment better because land, sea and air are clearly defined from one another, and don't seem to mingle in a fetid pool of conceptual category confusion. Even if you took out the industrial pollution (i stuck that in there to somehow mix air and land), it would still be f-ing gross.
I think I need to live in the mountains. In the mountains, the environmental elements are as discreet as they're going to get.
Of course, if you follow the 'discreetness in environment' thing too far, then you end up with a computer-generated landscape, which would be sort of bizarre to live in. Maybe just a little, tiny bit of category-confounding is nice, on top of an overall level of discreetness. But really, I don't like too much confounding.
Living plants and trees are not discreet when they come into bloom. I vastly prefer the appearance of a skeletal tree in winter, carving clear shapes in the negative space against the blue sky. I don't enjoy bushy complex jumbles of leaves against the drenched Maryland summer air.
Anyway, it's cold and damp today, and I don't really feel like biking out to the post office. But I will, and I will perhaps buy a treat for myself with the leftover money.
Gotta live for somethin.
I was reluctant to blog today, because my extended resume was just so cool, and I wanted to make sure the focus was on that. Today nick and I went out for a bike ride. I just bought ana a secret present at a secret location, and I'm about to wrap it. I wonder if there' s anything good on TV tonight.
Summer is most definitely here. I biked around the lake twice, in fact, and this morning I saw gnat clouds. It doesn't seem fair, really. No relief until October, from this point on. What a miserable shithole Maryland is. Well, it won't start getting really hot until may. May - October, or exactly half the year, is unbearable. What a way to live your life.
I was supposed to go find jobs today, but I didn't. I should go tomorrow. But it's just so disheartening.
Here is my resume. This week's blog is a little bit fatter because of it. As far as rate of pay goes, the jobs range from $5 an hour (hardee's, friendly's) to $15 an hour (temping, pizza hut), except for shady grove hospital and c&o canal, which was/is volunteer. The dates of employment span from summer 1991 to the present, and the jobs are pretty evenly spaced within this period. A few jobs lasted only a day, notably cutco knives and little caesar's. Most others were a matter of weeks or months, except for jobs at texaco and pizza hut, which I held for at least a year.
| employer | supervisor | job duties | reason for leaving |
| hardee's in gaithersburg. It was close enough to ride my bike to work. It later became a roy rogers, and later still a mcdonalds. | the general manager was named bill glensor, and the millers and I egged what we thought was his house, but what was likely some other person's house. We were probably drunk. There was also steve, who molested an employee in the backroom freezer, and kevin, who told mark and peter, 'your mom is nice looking, but your daddy got a big old frankenstein head,' and who would clock employees out if he saw them momentarily stop sweeping the parking lot to talk to someone. | this was my very first job, held before I could drive. I worked there with mark and peter. I remember after my first day on the job, I dreamed all night about pushing the buttons on the register; it was the first time I'd caused repetitive stress injury to my brain. I remember eating a lot of illegal chicken nuggets and curly fries. Once, a customer asked me to put a few extra wings in his box of 'hot wings,' and I told him that I couldn't do that. 'I'll kill you when you get home' was the response. |
i started to hate it, and gave a computer-printed '3 day notice' to management, who were amused. |
| friendly restaurant in gaithersburg. It was torn down, and an 'eckerd' now occupies the property. | a deformed redneck-woman named donna. Also, this is where I met ron, who later moved into our house and didn't ever pay rent. He was missing several teeth. Generally speaking, friendly's was very hick-oriented. I remember feeling threatened by some pick-up driving hoodlums. | I worked in the back, scooping ice cream. My forearms got very strong, and very sticky. | they played one of those tricks where they don't schedule you for weeks and weeks, and then eventually you stop checking the schedule and sort of assume that it's all over. Of course, if there's any issue, they can claim, months later, that they scheduled you and you didn't show up. I gather that this is a fairly common management technique in the service-peon sector. |
| shady grove hospital in gaithersburg/rockville area. Pesh still works there, as hospital security and a front desk person. | i have no idea who our supervisor was. It was possible her name was 'mary.' | we sat in a little construction booth outside the emergency room and 'greeted' visitors to the hospital. In reality, I don't think we did anything whatsoever. I remember a working with a paid employee named alfredo (who also did nothing), and he telling pesh and me about his dog 'tuti' who ran away. | i can't remember. |
| crown books in gaithersburg, which was later to become 'pet center.' | a quiet, mousy, chubby spinster-type woman who hated boys. | worked the register, fiddled with the shelves. Very low volume, low pressure. I remember someone (jason lepeonka) in my senior class coming in and buying a hustler magazine from me, I guess to celebrate turning 18. | i left for college. |
| st. Mary's college library in st. Mary's city, Maryland. | this pregnant lady named becky who was really, really nice to the point of being weird. I forgot about work one day, and she said 'next time just call us, ok? No big deal.' bizarre. My first experience with publicly funded salaries. | i was supposed to go examine the shelves and put back mis-shelved books, and I tried to do this to some extent. But a lot of the time, I would just go upstairs and nap. | i attempted suicide. |
| the library of congress in SW DC. I took the metro in every morning at 5am so I could leave at 2pm in order to make these idiot group therapy sessions. | a fat, parasitic (but very kind and motherly) civil-servant named dianne lipscomb, and a comically intense, pretentious man called mr. Dunn. Hung on his office wall was a 6-foot canvas of abstract art that he had painted himself. He got mad at me once for typing 'set on fire' on a set of binding instructions, but made it clear that he understood the vigor of youth that led to such a jolly prank. | i would take a book from a cart next to me, look at it, and type up some binding instructions based on some qualities of the book, like pictures, narrow margins, etc. It was very easy, and I would fill my quota very early in the day and then spend the rest of the time talking to elaine, sleeping in the lounge, etc. | it was a temporary appointment, but if I had been more proactively competent, I think it might have been extended for me. |
Herman's sporting goods in gaithersburg. My one and only experience working in a shopping mall. |
a 'type-a' OCD freak with a YMCA mustache who practiced his karate kicks on his employees; a serious asshole. I don't remember his name. However, I do remember the music -- herman's had a store video/soundtrack that repeated all day, every day, and madness quickly threatened. I remember mentioning it, and the karate kicker saying 'well, this way you always know the song!' | this was never actually made clear. As far as I understood, I was supposed to literally walk around the store all day, for eight hours. This was pure torture, especially since my feet are uncomfortably arched. Once, I caught somebody trying to shoplift some stuff, and eagerly reported it to my manager, for some reason. | i was sort of fired from this. A manager (not karate kicker) summoned me to his office and asked if I wanted to stay there anymore, because it didn't seem like I did. This was puzzling, because they never told me what I was supposed to be doing in the first place. I guess I didn't have a 'can do' attitude. Anyway, I confirmed his suspicions, and left. |
| parker heating and AC in a burnt-out industrial area of gaithersburg, somewhere around the metro station. | john navarro. He invited me to his house to smoke and play guitar a lot. I would hang out with him, and this other employee named dan, who was bisexual, in his 30s, and maybe the stupidest man I've ever met. | telemarketing. I sold '19 point heating and air conditioning maintenance checks.' some people actually bought them. | i can't remember why I quit, but I did. Maybe john and dan were starting to creep me out too much. |
| traveling teachers. I think I had to drive somehwere in the silver spring area to meet with the owners in their home. | i dont remember their names. I met the woman once, when I 'auditioned' for her. I got the sense she would have hired me no matter what I had played. | if I had stayed on with them, my job would have been to drive around giving guitar lessons. | this was kind of funny. I freaked out because of the contract I had signed. Fearing that I was now under contract to drive around and work for them even if it turned out to be horrible, I wrote them a quitting letter in legalese. I wrote that the letter served as my notice of quitting, and within the 2 month period of contractual employment that remained, I could only teach students between 10pm and 3am, or something like that. |
| little caesar's in germantown (i was living with my dad at the time). | some dude who hired me on the spot without an interview, but never did any of my employment paperwork. | delivering pizzas. | i had a hard time my first night of driving, not being able to find any of the houses in a reasonable amount of time. I eventually ended up at this young couple's house, who invited me in after I delivered their pizza, and I sat there eating pizza and smoking with them for the whole evening. I drove back to little caesar's really late and told them I wouldn't be back. |
| victor litz music in gaithersburg, on the pike across from borders books. They later moved to oldtown. I still buy picks and strings from them, and see some of the same guitar dinosaurs working there (including tony litz). | the ultimate guido, complete with mullet, mercedes, and golf shirt: tony litz. One of the biggest asholes I've ever worked for. He would bellow about 'goin to hooters' after work, and was a loud, confrontational businessman of the worst order. | sell guitars, keyboards, drums, basses, etc; rock and roll accesories. | fired for 'speaking french on the phone.' I'm just repeating what guido told me; in actuality, I think he just didn't like me. |
| firstfield beer, on the same intersection as crown books, texaco, friendly's and hardees. A fruitful intersection for me. | this redneck family: jim and al. I don't remember the last name. Jim liked me, but for some reason al hated me from the beginning, and sent me to the bank with a deposit and filled-out ticket, including an extra $20 in the deposit to see if I would keep it. | run the register, go do stuff in back, go to the wholesaler and load beer onto a truck, etc. | fired. Again, I'm not sure why. Again, they simply took me off the schedule, and al told me 'as far as I'm concerned, it's all over.' |
| potomac kennels, actually a few feet away from parker heating and AC. | irwin and his wife...her name may have been pamela. | walking dogs, bathing dogs, cleaning dog shit, etc. | i just stopped coming to work one day. I received a phone message: 'we were worried because it's not like you not to show up.' haha. They were nice people; I'm not sure why I skipped out on them. Obviously greedy business-oriented hoarding slimebags, but hey -- what do you expect? |
| ormsby's international auto service, also close to parker heating and AC, cozied up to the metro station. | this 'total quality management' sniveler named jerry ormsby, who started every sentence with 'matt, what I need for you to do is.' he was a wannabe corporate shark, like so many american small business vermin. | duties? Yes. That's an excellent question. I used to interview very well for jobs, using a lot of big words, facial gestures, etc. So, I think jerry the TQM robber baron saw a 'win-win situation' in hiring his guy who sounded like he knew what he was doing, but in fact didn't know anything about cars. Instead of absorbing with my fantastic business intelligence how to fix cars and augment jerry's filthy profits, I simply broke things, including an engine dipstick and a hot water heater which sprayed the face of the mechanic who tried to fix it. | fired, quite justifiably. 'matt...i don't think it's working out.' I had some trouble getting my final paycheck and 1040s from jerry 'TQM' ormsby. One of my top 3 or so most-hated employers. |
| MC phys ed department at MC rockville. | don rosano, another guido, but a nice one. | whatever they told me to do: go set up soccer nets for the next PE class, make photocopies, etc. Most definitely subsidized. I was told, on a letter of recommendation, that I 'took pride in the weight room's appearance' when I cleaned it. Sadly, it was sort of true. | semester ended. |
| texaco, in gaithersburg's 'service industry intersection.' actually, gaithersburg has quite a number of these intersections. | stan and charlie the managers and gus the owner. I spent most of my time with stan, who was a reaganite conservative but with whom I got along really well. He bought me lunch from time to time, and let me use his truck to go make deposits in the bank. | ran the register. That is all. This was one of my favorite jobs. I got to sit there in a sun-lit booth and give people their cigarette brands as they came in without their having to ask for them. The best was being alone there on Sundays -- it was so nice and quiet. Sometimes (quite often, really), they'd neglect to give me enough change, and I'd have to lock up the station and sneak down to the grocery store to get quarters. They were sorry to see me go, I think. That station is a shell now, under new management. None of the people I used to work with are there anymore. | went off to umbc. |
| umbc counseling center in catonsville, Maryland. | jaheeda, I guess. She was the secretary, and I had the most contact with her. My real boss was reginald nettles, one of the nicest men I've ever met. He was so nice he was a bit creepy. He had some kind of mild mobility problem, and would zip around the hallways in his rascal, even though he was capable of walking. | not much. Whatever project they managed to dream up (re-organizing files no one ever looked at, making copies on a machine called a risograph, etc). But usually, I just sat around playing on the internet. I got an award, though, for best student employee. | semester ended. |
| a couple of temp agencies. I think the agencies were headquartered in rockville, but I drove all over the place to get to assignemnts. | who knows? Temping is a strange situation, boss-wise. You never deal with the people who actually sign your paycheck, and can tell them any story you want. The people at the agency expect temps to be poorly treated, and tend to side with them as opposed to clients when there is a conflict. The people who are paying for temp services sign a contract with the temp agency, and can only complain to them and get a new peon/automaton to come work for them, at which point you (the temp) whine about how you were mistreated, and then get shipped off to another assignment. In essence, it's not possibe to be fired from a temp agency, unless one accumulates many, many bad reviews. I was quite well-liked there, and at least one agency was sad to see me go. | lots of different jobs doing pretty much the same thing. The most interesting was working for construction managers in dc, where I did the bidding of two mannish, ex-frat-boy construction suits named andrew dondero and tom luddy. All they did was swear. Really, just rude assholes. I don't think it gets much worse than them; no scruples whatsoever. The interesting thing about that job was that it was incredibly fast-paced; I'm reluctant to use buzzwords, but boy, did I multitask. Another temp job of note was working for GMAC-RFC as a secretary/admin-type, which I enjoyed. I went out to lunch every day with the boss, a bond salesman, and he sort of adopted me. I had recently started a new medication which made me really happy and eager to run around, and so the GMAC managers actually offered me $40k a year as a permanent admin. This was, of course, during the economic boom. I hadn't finished with college and had big plans as a web designer (haha), and so I declined. Then, when I reconsidered my rejection of their offer, I discovered something interesting about the business world: if a potential employer gets the slightest whiff that a potential employee isn't insanely excited about working for them, then they will move on to someone who is, or at least someone who plays the part better. I discovered this when I changed my mind and asked my GMAC bosses if they'd still be willing to offer me the job. They mumbled something under their breath about 'interfering with my career goals.' I think a lot of it was simply 'he had the audacity to say no -- fuck him,' even though part of it was likely 'he's not that interested and might leave us in a pinch.' | it was a summer thing. Actually, I think I may have temped for two summers, but I'm not sure what the chronology is in terms of other jobs, so I'll just put them both into one big category. |
| editor. I got to work at home, which was nice. | bomi, mark and peter's crazy big-headed father. | made some grammatical sense out of my friends' father's czech-to-english translations. He even bought me a fax machine at one point, which he later returned. | no more translations to edit. |
| umbc bookstore, on campus in catonsville. | ed barabas. He liked me -- I went back and visited him the other day, in fact. He was always very impressed with my website. | at first they had me on the computer, but when it became clear that I was a moron in that respect (surprisingly), I switched to driving the van around campus and short distances off, delivering computers to people. | i thought I could make more money somewhere else, and so quit. When I was fired from taylor manor, I begged ed for my job back, to no avail. Again, an example of 'he said no -- fuck him.' |
| taylor manor hospital, also in catonsville, maybe 5 miles off campus. | some lady; I dont remember her name. | i think it had something to do with coordinating insurance companies with the hospital's accounting department and patients and payments and blah blah. But that's the point: I never figured out what I was supposed to do. | fired, justifiably, with the words: 'matt...we don't feel that this is the job for you. We'll go ahead and pay you for the full 8 hours. We'll need your key and badge.' |
| cutco knives. I don't remember exactly where the initial meeting I attended was, but it was in baltimore's SW suburbs, which was my base of operations for a couple of years. | this really comical 'type-A' manager-girl in her 20s, her voice hoarse from yelling, probably at football games and her boyfriend. She stank of 'the 7 habits.' | selling knives door to door. | i never showed up for work. I realized I didn't want to go door to door selling knives which I would have to buy initially. It all reeked of a scam. I later saw the same manager-girl on campus, peddling mobile phones. |
| pizza hut, about a quarter of a mile away from my apartment in catonsville. | first, there was linda, who hated me. Then came sam, or maybe colin, who got fired for drug abuse. Brian was in there somewhere, who was fired for calling a driver a 'fucking bitch.' brian often had me go get him a bottle of 'seagram's 7' at the liquor store. Sam once threatened to hit me. I think colin came back at one point, as did linda, who's husband threatened to beat up another driver. But this was my favorite job, delivering pizzas in the ghetto of west baltimore in my '87 lebaron, giving the 17 year old drug addicts who worked in the kitchen rides back home, and not buying groceries for an entire summer. | delivering pizzas, doing dishes, cleaning the floor, emptying the trash, and oiling pizza pans. | my car broke down. |
| borders books, in gaithersburg. I biked there every day, sometimes in the snow and ice. People were impressed. | linda ruggles. 'see me in my office. NOW. If you're not able to use logic, then at least be willing to follow procedure.' truly a monster-bitch. I hear she was later fired. | shelving at first, but then when I told them I couldn't do that, I was put on register, which I was quite good at. But then linda was mean to me, I'm convinced because she was bitter that I had confounded their purpose in hiring me by asking for disability accomodations. | linda was mean to me, and after the 'follow procedures' speech I told her she was condescending, tossed my badge in her face, and told her I couldn't work for her anymore. She was happy about this, because it meant that she didn't have to fire me, which might have meant a lawsuit since I had given her medical documentation of my disability that prevented me from shelving. |
| the shaker forest festival in seneca park, about a quarter mile from my house. | dave and connie paulovitch, gary oran, some other people. | put up tents, drove golf carts around and hammered in signs for a tribe of fundamentalist christians who managed an annual summer craft fair in seneca park. This was an important event for me, because it marked the end of my indifference towards christianity and the beginning of my open hostility towards it. | a temporary thing. |
| various odd jobs | various acquaintances | cared for cats, watered plants, tore down some drywall. A few bucks here, a few bucks there. | meh |
| c&o canal association, sitting at my computer. I went with mrs. White to a meeting in DC once, just to show my face to people. | I'm not sure. I guess the association president, even though I take most direction from mrs. White (the secretary). | update the website, translate the newsletter into HTML, make PDFs out of MS word docs, make the site structure navigable...pretty much everything web-related. | might not ever end. |
| performance bike shop, in gaithersburg. I started biking there after driving for a while. | matt kmeciak, the service manager, with whom I got along well and discussed left-wing conspiracies. | started as a mechanic, but was moved to a 'bike builder' position. This was good for everyone: 1) I was so slow at working and slow to catch on as a mechanic-in-training that I was costing the shop a lot of money at my $9/h salary, and so was moved to a position of essentially assembly line work, where I built bikes from a semi-disassembled, boxed state, and was paid $6/bike. 2) I (probably?) would have gotten enough experience as a builder to eventually graduate to mechanic (repeated simple exercises, general mechanical experience, etc). | moved to concord, CA. It was a wistful departure, just because I got along so well with the people there. But, I really wasn't that competent, and would have been a proverbial wrench in the gears were I paid by the hour. As things were, I wound up being paid $6/h (1 bike/h). |