3.22.2005
Sometimes I want to refuse to believe it, the fact that boys can be very dim. What the hell man? Why couldn't God have made them a little smarter? I swear, there would be less zits and wrinkles in this day and age. Honestly.Now don't immediately assume that I'm a female sexist pig, but well, at least you know I'm being, at the most, truthful. Right? Right. *half smile* or more like *forced smile*ErLACK...or so what Georgia Nicolson says, haha. Okay well, yesterday I worked till 2:30(ish) and I was finishing up sweeping and in comes Brenda. Sorry. His new codename now is Rebecca. If you really want to know why well too bad. Ask Shan, haha. Anyway. "Miiiriam," I hear my name called and, argh, it had to be when I was bending over and trying to sweep up a piece of shredded wheat cereal that I happened to step on from my hurry to fill my orders. And you know how shredded wheat is when it's crushed. It gets everywhere. I look up and almost instantly a disgruntled frown smacks my face. Don't. Ask. Why. Ah crap, you asked why. Jeeeeezus. "Oh, hi," I greet half-heartedly. Or so what I wanted to be half-hearted. May have more came out as cold hearted. Nice touch, eh? "What're you doing here?" I noted, with little effort I must say, that in normal civilian clothes [and out of the work attire that we sport while on the job] he, as in "Rebecca" looks so different. Not as in bad different, just different. He was wearing a t-shirt - I think it said something like California or whatever [what the hell is it with guys and Cali??] and it was big and white. Jeans...skater shoes. Why?? I don't know. I doubt that he even listens to skater music, i.e. punk, punk rock, emo, blah blah blah. Toss in some Bob Marley and there's your boarding tunes.Anyway, off subject. "I came to pick up my check," he explains. Right. He could've gotten it any time of the day but he happened to get there when I'm about to ship off. *sigh* I can never really understand boys. Maybe I'm not supposed to. I perk up at the sound of anything monetary, and I suddenly smile and genuine smile. A tired smile but a genuine tired smile at that. "Oh! That's right. I've gotta go pick that up." Then I go back to sweeping while Reb asks Adelina [workmate at the sink] who was working with us earlier. Who was Rosalba. Who has a baby. I did not know. That. Okay I'll stop. Then Reb goes toward the back and says yello to Tim, the new cook. I think Tim's pretty awesome. He confided in me while I was taking out the trash that he wasn't so sure he wanted to work there. To be truthfully honest, if it wasn't for the people, I wouldn't really want to work there either. "So what do you guys get paid? Minimum wage? Isn't that like, $7 and a quarter now?" he asks me while zipping around to do whatever it is that cooks do."I thought it was $7 and 50," was what I said.
"Well, whatever it is, that's pretty little for what you guys do. I mean, you guys bust your ass out there everyday." You bet. But eh. It's a job.
"Actually...I shouldn't be telling you but I don't get paid what everybody else gets paid..." I start to mumble then my eyes dart to the camera fixed to the ceiling corner. Nice. Hope Gary can't lip read, hahahahaha. Ha. "Oh yeah, did you notice all the cameras?" I ask nervously.
"OH yeah, they're everywhere [no shnit]. But they aren't audio though. That's illegal."
"No kidding?? I didn't know that!"
"It's true. They can't video/audio tape you unless they tell you first. That's why audio evidence is dismissable in court because it's against the law to record someone without their knowing it." Whoa. Awesome.
"Hm. Well, I learn something new every day, hahahaha." I swallow a little and start putting trash bags in the bins. "But anyway, as I was saying before," I pause as Tim goes over to see if there was anybody else in the kitchen [*ahem Gary ahem*] who might overhear. "I actually get paid $8."
"No shit? Really?" Yes, mucho ludicrous, I know.
"Yes...I feel a little guilty but, I don't know why I get paid that much more. I think it was because of the job I had before this, I got paid $8 there - guess Gary was a little desperate to hire someone," I smiled. Haha, what a sap, that Gary. Just kidding. No really.
Tim gets in a good laugh. "That's awesome. You should all get paid $8, seeing as how hard you guys work."
I couldn't agree more. "Yeah, and did I tell you how I dressed up for the interview? I wore a suit! A friggin' suit. While everybody else dresses in something in the most formal like, slacks or something. I wore a suit jacket with a skirt that reached above my knees. I was just about hired on the spot." Sad, really. Oh well.
Again Tim gets in a good haha. "Hahahaha that's hilarious!" And so on and so forth. Then he proceeds to tell me about Sam, the other cook, and how bossy he is. I do think Sam is a TAD bossy, but maybe it's because he's been there for a while, longer than most of us except for Rosalba, and he's like, head honcho over the cooks [poor Cheryl, cook numero tres]. But yeah, he thinks Sam's a little on the tight-ass side. Ah well. What can you do.
So I walk out there and "Rebecca's" in the lobby with his check, talking to Edgar the caretaker [who I might add, trimmed his hair surprisingly; just the day before I was telling him it was getting a little too wild, to which I was only teasing but whatever]. "Reb" turns around and smiles at me and urges me to get my check. I only shrug and he asks Kristina the receptionist and overall check horder if he could search for mine in the pile, and she refuses. "Well, can she?" Talking about me. To which again Kristina refuses. Bitch. Then the phone rings and she has to make me wait for a minute while she goes into fake mode. Aye.
I chat a bit with "Reb" and finally Kristina gets some time in her busy schedule to hand me my check, and I open it and voila, lovely lovely lovely mulaaaa. Reb asks how much I got and Kristina says, "You're not allowed to do that." What the hell. So while she's busy doing her office shit, Reb shows me how much he got. Sadness. Then I flash him mine [hahahaha] and his face droops.
"What the hell! You get paid a helluva lot more than I do!" He whispers loudly and I just shh him a little and Kristina turns to us with a frown.
"Is there a reason why you two are standing around here?" And Reb immediate response to that was walking off really quickly while I linger for a moment and say, "Well, because Kristina, you are our favorite person."
There's that doubtful look while the other caretakers sort of smile and laugh. "Oh, see, now they're just trying to be funny," Kristina mutters.
"That was funny? Huh..." And I walk off. Bitch, hahahahhahaha. Anyhoo. Toodle-doo.
I then give Reb directions to my house [not very good directions, but well, I was in a hurry to leave], because I wanted him to pick me up [Mel's idea, not mine, oh no, definitely not mine] and the reason I gave to that was because I didn't have much gas. He says he didn't have much gas either but he would pick me up. I thought we were going to go somewhere tonight but I guess that didn't happen. We sat in the lobby seats while I stood behind his chair and explained my directions. Then he got up to go get Fern [one of the elderly residents] a plastic spoon because she asked for her ice-cream. He comes back while I'm sitting down and looking through the photo album sitting on the table. He sits in a vacant spot behind me and I have to turn around a little to look at him. I told him I wanted to go home first. Freshen up. Yadda.
Then I walk out through the automatic doors and he calls after me. I turn around. "What??"
"So I make a left on...Frederick street??"
"No! It's SW Richard Ct!! What, you can't READ that??" He gave me a funny look and I throw my hands up in the air in frustration. "Aw, Christ!"
"So what's the house number?" We're practically yelling at each other across the asphalt. Funny.
"It's 1-7-7-...." I'm not going to say the whole thing, someone out there might read this and rape me in my room. To which I'd be glad to, hahaha. I'm kidding. For real this time around. I'll letcha know when I get that desperate though. Heaven forbid. Good grief.
So he writes it down [where he got a pen from I have no clue] and I just nod in confirmation and turn around and run. I was too tired to deal with him. I really was. *sigh*
So I was made to wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and
wait
some
more
and the bloody whatsit never came. What the shit. At least call me you facking idiot. [though it'd be long distance for him since I haven't yet changed my area code from 541. Argh] Buy some minutes! Better yet, get a bloody mobile! Nyaaaaaaarghhhhhhhhhhhhh.
The surprising thing was, I think I was too tired to feel too disappointed. I was a bit relieved. I would have thought I would've cried like a wet rag wrung out, but weird. I was like a dry sponge. Sad. Then Mel persuaded me to call him. Argh. So I called his house and he wasn't home; instead a guy named Travis answered. Whoa. I'm gonna have to ask Reb who this Travis person was. He sounded hott. hahahaha JK. No really.
Guys are so dim. Like 1.5 watt lightbulbs.
If you guys [if there are any males in the audience who is reading this] want to please a girl, you do exactly what you agreed on, be very clear about your intentions [when, where, why, what, how, etc.], and not be so facking dim!!!! I hope that was clear enough. Damn.
;it's something sophiscated.
12:21 PM
