*giggle*

Every year, some student trickster(s) manage to scale the precarious roof of the campus-famous University Hall to place a lone pumpkin on the very tip of the clock tower. And there it sits for an entire year, possibly because no one in the campus Facility Services can figure out how to get the heck up there. And then, as the next Halloween rolls around, a fresh pumpkin is placed atop, to slowly rot the next year away.

I don't know why, but I find this really funny. And cute. And yeah, funny. It just makes me giggle every time I look up at it on my way to work in the morning. It seems the zoom on my cellphone's camera is crap, so this is the best I've got...it's that little ball at the top.

Crybaby

Last week were some pretty big events at the university. Our office had to staff one of them, a small one with mostly deans, faculty, and some administrators attending. A really nice guy in my office, we'll call him "Guy," was stationed at one point with me. We were basically acting as ushers at the entrance to a theater, and most of the people had already filed in. We were standing there chatting, when a small boy of about eight or nine years old started to climb the many steps up to where we were. I recognized him as some staff member's kid. She always seemed to bring him along on the free events hosted by the university. As he approached, we noticed in one of his hands teetered a rather full glass of orange juice, and in the other, he carried a cookie about the size of his head.

As he reached me, I smiled and said, "Oh, I'm sorry, you can't take that into the theater, they don't let anyone take food in. But go ahead and finish it here or downstairs if you like, then go on in." The boy stopped in mid-step and stared at us for a full 30 seconds or more. Guy and I kinda looked at each other, then shrugged it off. We continued to chat a little bit, but here and there I stole a glance at the boy, who was now looking off into the distance in an almost catatonic state. It was slightly unnerving, but I tried not to pay attention, because I figured he was embarrassed and I didn't want to make him feel more uncomfortable.

A couple minutes later, I looked over at the boy again, this time head tilted down as if in prayer over his orange juice, which along with the cookie, was still held aloft in mid-air. Suddenly, his shoulders began quivering. Then, as if from a dramatic movie scene, you could actually see teardrops begin plopping into his cup, splashing into the orange juice. Stunned, I turned and looked at Guy, who looked just as stunned.

"What's wrong?" I asked. Sniffling and snuffling loudly, the boy cried out, "You won't let me take this in!" Again, I looked at Guy, wide-eyed and perplexed. Wtf? The boy continued sobbing uncontrollably. We tried to offer words of consolation, but it was a bit ridiculous.

Being a teacher for three years, you get used to not only seeing kids cry, but actually MAKING them cry. The first time you do it can be a bit tough. You feel like the devil. But you get over it. Fast. Kids cry. Sometimes YOU make them cry, and usually, it's not anything insensitive or cruel that you did. The first time I made a kid cry, was on the very last day of classes when I caught EIGHT students had copied their homework after one (the class genius). I gave them all a zero on their homework. The class genius wept for 20 minutes. The other kids were nonplussed.

But this little boy was actually kinda pissing me off. So he couldn't bring his juice and big fat cookie into the theater. Big fucking deal. It's not like we snatched them out of his hands and threw them in the trash. If this was the biggest hardship he had to deal with in his life, then his mother REALLY had to get him out more. And if it was some kind of ploy to get us to acquiesce and let him enter the theater, then he was even more of a little brat than I thought. After a few more words of re-encouragement to go eat his cookie and have his juice or to instead rejoin his mother (he didn't), we gave up, and just ignored him. He then sat down on the stairs, folded his arms over his knees, bent his head over into his arms, and just sobbed. I eyed the orange juice, now perched on the step next him, with some apprehension.

Jesus.

Eventually, we went into the theater and left him there. I was wondering where his mother was the whole time, whom I imagined was inside waiting for him to return. Maybe I'm a cold bastard, but Guy works every weekend with kids in his church, and he had pretty much the same reaction. He just uses much nicer words. Beau has no such restrictions.

Later, when I told this story to Beau, he scowled and said, "If that was our son, and you'd raised him that way, I'd smack him so hard, YOU'D feel it."

Snorting, I said, "I wouldn't even raise a girl that way."

Then we continued on with a scathing review of other people's parenting, which is easy when you don't have kids, of course.

Surreal Day

So, I'm sitting here at my desk, getting a massive vibrating massage. Seems they're doing heavy construction on the steam pipes here at the university, or some such, and I feel like I'm going to jiggle right off my chair onto the floor. At first it felt kinda neat *wink* but now it's a bit annoying...or literally, jarring. Every time it stops for a few seconds, I feel like shaking my head like a dog who's just come out of a pool.

Add to that, my lovely and powerful female boss is singing Patsy Cline's "Crazy," in a somewhat-operatic voice. AWESOME. She's not bad, and it helps to make the day deliciously surreal.

Always Crashing in the Same Car

Well, I have more crappy bad luck news to report, but actually, as much as it sucks, I'm okay with it. I guess it could always be worse, and it all turned out fine in the end. It felt nice to take something in stride for once, well, for the MOST part. There's just been a lot of shit to deal with lately, and like the saying goes, "When it rains, it pours." And yesterday, that was both literally and figuratively the case for me.

I talked before about the "nickel-and-dime me to death" antics of my old Honda Civic, and how recently the speedometer and dashboard had taken on a life of its own. I still haven't taken it in, since you don't really need much of a speedometer in Missoula (I rarely go above 3rd gear driving around from home to work to work) and now the headlights work. Of course, it's still in the back of my mind that "this needs to be fixed(!)," but with some other more pressing bills, it's gone down a few notches on the "Must Pay" list.

Yesterday, after leaving the university job, and during a fairly steady rain that had been going on all day, I was making my way through rush hour traffic to Shop-n-Smile. I had just turned onto one of the more busy roads when the radio started to stutter, dropping out sound every other syllable. I switched around to see if it was just that particular radio station. Nope.

Then, I noticed the dashboard was pulsating a little more emphatically than usual. Nervous, I pressed the electric button for the passenger window and watched as the window very.....slowly.....inched....downward. Sensing something was wrong, I quickly hit the button to "up" and watched the window painfully creak upwards until the window thankfully sealed. Uh oh, that's not good. Just seconds later, the entire dashboard went dark and the car stalled.

Just fucking great!

I tried to restart the car, but it was completely, 100%, out of commission. Behind me was the long line of restless rush hour maniacs. In a panic, I put the car in neutral, leaped out of the car, and began to push it to the side of the road. A nice man in an enormous pick-up behind me jumped out and helped me. Thankfully, the little car was pretty easy to push.

So there I was, on the side of a busy street, cars racing past me, rain pouring down (and my own window, rigidly stuck open an inch, was letting in water), and I'm going to be late to work. Plus, it was pretty damn chilly. I called Shop-n-Smile and told them my predicament and told them I'd get back to them. Then I called Beau to come and save my unlucky ass. Nothing. I called him like 3 times in quick succession so he would know it wasn't a social call. Still nothing.

Then I suddenly remembered I had emergency roadside through my Verizon Wireless phone! *CHEER* The world is bright and beautiful! There is hope!

When I had first purchased our Verizon phones from the University of Montana, the roadside service had been offered to me. I initially declined because just a few days later I was going to get car insurance, and I always get emergency roadside (I'm one of those people who seem to lock their keys in their car at least once a year). But then, the saleswoman at the Verizon counter told me how cheap it was -- about $3+ a month, (it WAS cheaper than my auto insurance company), -- and how it was connected to your phone, not the car, so that no matter WHOSE car you were in, you were covered. This sounded great! She then went on to tell me anecdotes on how her own boyfriend, with her phone in hand, had used it himself, twice in one month and how grateful she had been to have it. So, a few days later, I went in on my break, and as she tapped away with her long, manicured fingernails (how DO women type with those things??), she set it up.

"Is there anything else I need to do?" I asked.

"Nope, you're good to go!"

"Great," I said, and after asking her how to access the service if needed, I left the store.

Well, now sitting in the car, I couldn't for the life of me remember that access number, so after spending quite a bit of time punching through the lengthy menu on the phone trying to figure out how to contact Verizon (I finally just called information and got their customer service number), I got the number: #ROAD. Pretty straight forward.

After impatiently listening through their lengthy "options," I keyed in all the information asked, only to be told by the recording, "Our records indicate that you do NOT have this service."

HUH!?!?!

And after finally getting a human being on the line, was told, that in fact, I did NOT have the service, that there was no record of it, and they had viewed all activity on my phone, and there was nothing. I could sign up for it NOW, but it wouldn't go into effect for TWO days.

Oh. My. God.

The woman at Customer Service seemed sincerely sorry for what was going on, and I recognized it was not her fault (I hate people who yell at the waitress because they don't like how their food is cooked). I was still pretty pissed off. At first, they could not track down the # to the Verizon store at the UM campus. It was like it didn't exist. I happened to know they close at around 4:30pm anyway and wouldn't be there. Still, the woman wanted to try, and after calling another Verizon store in town, got the number, called it, and said, "Oh. well the number to the store appears to be the woman's cellphone number. I got her voicemail. Would you like it?"

Oh, yes I would.

So, after hanging up with her, I called up the woman who had "sold" me the service. I got her voicemail too and left my message. I was pretty proud of myself at its firmness and general pissed-off-ness since I tend to totally wimp out when confronting any kind of customer service/billing situation, even if completely justified. Plus, who wants to be a total asswipe anyhow? But I guess shivering in a cold car for a couple hours kind of releases some inhibitions, and I let her know just how disappointed I was. I still haven't received a call back.

So, finally, I called up Wally World, told them it was emergency and to get my husband on the phone pronto. It still took them about 15 minutes to locate him -- exactly where I told them he was working - the CASH REGISTER - idiots. And, like a knight in shining armour, Beau arrives 15 minutes later, where he immediately positions our other car and pulls out the jumpers. At first, nothing happened. I happened to turn around and look behind and me...and ho-lee shit.

RIGHT there, just about 100 feet from where I am on the side of the road is "Red's 24 Hour Towing." Hahahaha. So, I went in to talk to them about options. They were two really nice men, and they gave me some advice. At that point, I turned and looked out the window and saw that Beau had magically gotten the car to start, hooray! The two nice men gave me the business card to that Missoula Auto Electric place that was recommended to me in the first place, and after reassuring me that the guy who ran it was a good guy and not expensive, I ran back into the rain. We drove our respective cars home, and Beau, unbelievably to me, went back to finish his shift at Wally World ("I think they'll understand if you don't return to cashier for a few hours").

And I am hoping, REALLY hoping, it's just the battery that needs replacing.

Oh well, it could always be worse, right? RIGHT!?!?

Splendor in the Grass

There's been quite the wait for Spring here, but thankfully, it's come full force on campus. Brilliant green grass, towering trees, and flowers of all sorts are everywhere; it's a joy to walk around in. I took a few pics with my snazzy, new camera phone. It seems to have given all the photos a kind of glowing aura, but I can live with that. Not bad for a phone, after all.

Hooray for Spring!

Out, Out Damn Nostalgia!

"For every job, so many men
So many men no one needs."
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So, I've been here in the, let's just say, VIP University Officials Office (From now on referred to as VIPO) for a few days. As usual, since I moved to this city, my feelings are mixed. Decent job in important office that can show me a lot and as I've been told like 10 times, set me up to get to know the whole campus as a whole and get an even better job. I guess that's how things work here. People kept telling me how difficult it was to get hired by the university, but once you were in, you were in. Now I guess the deal is to float around until you find a nice job to land on. I find the whole thing unsettling. Yeah, me, Ms. Move-Around-The-Universe-Every-1-2-Years.

And with the way things have been going, I've tried to be really positive about getting ANY work at all, even if it doesn't fit me. Let me say that again, trying. It's interesting how I can overdramatize my life sometimes (don't laugh, Beau). When you're looking for work, and you keep lowering and lowering your standards ('til you end up working at Shop-n-Smile and start saying to your mate, "Hey, look, we could deliver newspapers at 3 in the morning!"), I start imagining strange scenarios. I love history, particularly individuals in history and how they react. And I have been imagining the long, depressing lines for work during the Depression. Those grey photos of men with vacant, hopeless stares hoping that today they'll be picked to do some shit labor job. And for a split second I'll feel like that, temping at some lumber yard for 1/3 my NYC salary and having to defer my student loans AGAIN, and eating oatmeal for breakfast AGAIN lets me feel a fraternity with those men. How I have been doing all these jobs I hate, that are boring and tedious, and that the pay is crap.

And then in the very next moment I feel like a giant asshole. I'm not an idiot; I know there is no comparison of me now to what people then went through. When I'm picking up the 12 rugs that someone has left strewn all over the floor at Shop-n-Smile, I remind myself that a) this job is easy, b) this job is an a climate-controlled environment, c) I don't get that dirty, and d) I don't have a bunch of starving kids to feed.

I still want to quit Shop-n-Smile every single night though.

It's funny, when you're in a situation where your current job situation sucks, you start looking back to your old jobs with a great deal of romantic nostalgia and wondering why you ever left, despite the fact that at the time you were DYING to get out of there, for whatever reason.

Remembering how happy I was at UW-Madison and how it was the only time I really felt a part of a tight-knit, warm community, but forgetting that the job I was in had no growth potential, EVER; and that I was surrounded by either 50-something's or 20 year olds, but never anyone my own age; and how I was in a relationship that needed to end, but wouldn't as long as were in the same city; and that after I got my Master's I thought it might be time to move to Southeast Asia, since, what's the point of spending all that time and money studying it and not ever experiencing it in any meaningful way?

Remembering my great jobs in NYC that did have growth potential and lots of interesting and caring people to work with, but forgetting that it was still low-paying; that at times I felt as if I was treated like a glorified secretary and not an equal; that I lived in a tiny, cockroach-infested apartment that would make the guy on Fear Factor wince; or that my second job (teaching) really fulfilled me, but also forced me to travel way out to Queens, only to return to my home on the subway at around 11pm at night every night; or that the love of my life was living in a totally different state; or that as much as I loved NYC, that I wasn't really a NY'er and didn't really fit in anywhere; and that I couldn't afford the damn place!

Or even remembering my brief job in Missouri with four beautiful, funny, and unbelievably kind and caring women (I used to call them the Missouri version of Sex & the City, the waaaaaaay toned down version), but forgetting that the pay was less than half what I made in NYC, that the job was often slow and boring, that most of the time I was itching and burning to leave for New Zealand and join Beau, and that I had to commute (something I really really hate).

Yeah, nostalgia's a real treat.

And I'm a nutjob. You ever wonder if it's even possible that you could ever just be happy? Ever? Not deliriously happy, but a long-lasting, unending, flowing stream of contentment? Peace? I have periods where I am, but.... ugh. Normally, I don't consider myself unhappy, but I also don't usually consider myself truly happy. Or that I have happy days. Usually I feel restless, like I haven't really reached my potential and there's so much more to be accomplished, worked on, figured out, paid for, learned. I could attribute this constant restlessness to my ADD, how when doing my work at Shop-n-Smile, my mind, which is usually going going going, feels like letting out a bloodcurdling scream from the boredom. But more and more I feel like that's just a cop-out, even if it is true. I've been somewhat fascinated by those at Shop-n-Smile for whom this is their "job," (most are younger than me and have children), and who have a kind of contentment with that. They are making single-digit, per hour wages, they do the same thing night after night, and there's a sense of okayness with that. That fascinates me, because every time I think about working at Shop-n-Smile, as a full-time provide-for-my-family job, FOREVER, I want to stab myself. I envy that kind of peace.

I used to poke fun at Beau, because he'd make these comments like, "When this happens, I'll be happy." Then it would happen. And he'd go, "Okay, when THIS happens, I'll be happy." And then THAT would happen. Rinse. Repeat. Is there just something in us that is so spoiled and screwed up that happiness is completely unsustainable? I sometimes think of people years and years ago who basically worked their asses off every single day, simply to survive, and I don't think they had long periods of self-musing over their own personal happiness. They just did. Or, so I think. Sheesh, right now I'm thinking so much I'm all turned around.

Blah.

Winds of Change

Over the past couple of months I've shared with you my struggles, ill luck, and disbelief over our misadventures in Missoula. And believe it or not, I haven't told you everything. Some because it's too private, and some because I was starting to feel like a big whiny baby. Though both Beau and I have felt a range of negative emotions from discouragement to outright Depression (with the BIG "D"), as Beau says, "You just gotta keep plugging away at it. There isn't any other choice." Of course, he's right.

When I got my temp job at the university and began that familiar walk across a grassy collegial campus, I felt my first sense of relief, and for a moment, a spark of hope and happiness. Something good had finally happened, something that was headed in the right direction.

And then, the second job at the university came along, much faster than I expected. What I haven't told you yet is the drama of the past few days -- of my first experience with some aggressive poaching (I had some non-aggressive poaching attempted on me in NYC). I'd love to write some of it out, but I'm a bit cautious. Knowing my luck, I'll detail all that went down and some university official will read this and I'll be canned in no time. I've felt so unlucky lately that I think I'm becoming superstitious. *rubs rabbit foot*

Just a sidenote, but did you all ever own a rabbit's foot when you were a kid? I can remember owning SEVERAL (though not at the same time). Now when I look at the photos, I'm a bit grossed out. I carried a dead rabbit's foot, complete with pointy toenails and an outrageously-colored dye job, around as a key chain -- as if I owned any keys then -- rubbing it happily here and there. Ewwww!

*cough* Anyway, poaching is a familiar phenomenon on university campuses, though typically it's the professors who are sneakily snatched away by an outside university, not a temp snatched away from another department. I'm certainly flattered and thankful to get a higher position with better pay, and with the possibility of benefits, something that has become a VERY big deal in every American's life, but the whole process has left me feeling awkward, embarrassed, and uneasy.

And my good luck continued when the two women in my current department were nothing but gracious, kind, and supportive of the whole thing. Sure, they weren't thrilled to lose me, but they understood that this was a chance at a really good job and what I was doing for them was helpful, but not rocket science. I felt so thankful toward them I bowed and scraped all day. I wanted to do something for them, flowers, candy, a plaque. And I'll be sorry to be leaving them. I've come to really like them in the past few weeks.

I don't know why I always expect the worst from most people, that people will be angry, uncivilized, will misunderstand. I don't consider myself a pessimist, but I think Beau does. He's not the first to tell me I always imagine the worst out of every situation.

I read that Michael Douglas calls Catherine Zeta-Jones the Queen of Gloom and Doom or something to that effect. Even better, once upon a time, Sting and his longtime love, Trudie Styler, were in lawn chairs sunbathing. Suddenly Sting says, "Look, there's a little black spot on the sun today." And Trudie responded, "Oh god, here we go again, it's the King of Pain."

And a song was born.

So, I guess I'm not the only one.

Anyway, tomorrow is day one in "The Serious Office." I will up my clothes from office casual to office professional. I will keep my head down and do what I'm told 'til I get my bearings. I will work hard. I will impress. I will kick some administrative ass.

Maybe my luck has finally begun to change...

Sinner Man!

"Oh, Sinner man, where you gonna run to? Where you gonna run to?"
- Nina Simone

Between the University Center, where I get lunch, and the building I currently work in, is a large open grassy area. And at any university, this is used for the same basic things:

- Students lounging around to talk, sleep, or study
- Students doing "active" things like throw frisbees or footballs, or walking their dogs
- Students protesting something


For not being a "major" university, I'm surprised and impressed by the sheer amount of protests/demonstrations that go on on this campus. Most involve some boring folk singer, unfortunately, and usually, draw a very small crowd.

Exiting the UC today, I noticed a much larger than usual crowd gathered, and could hear someone giving some kind of oratory with great enthusiasm and authority. What kind of protest or demonstration could entice so many students to stop in their usual walks of apathy?

A bible-thumper, literally. Standing there was a diminutive man, who looked to be the same age as the other college students, which made him even more interesting to me. Holding a bible in hand, and yes, thumping away, he was crowing about the immorality of the students around him. As you can imagine, this did nothing but amuse and delight the students to no end, who catcalled continuously along with the "preacher's" speech. Apparently, my own apathy wasn't enough to make me stop (I had to be back in the office in about three minutes, and I'm already damned to Hell as it is), but I got enough of his schpiel to feel a pang of sympathy for the poor guy, despite the fact that I probably wouldn't agree with a word he said. If ever there was a tougher audience to preach to about moral values, and his particular focus on LUST, it had to be a college crowd. But he bravely fought on, there were souls to save, don'tcha know?!

Rock on, preacher, rock on!

Self-Compliment

Men, this post is on hair. Feel free to move on.
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I like compliments, I won't lie. Well, I like compliments coming from an individual. The kind you get when someone in a group loudly gives you a compliment so everyone kind of turns and examines you makes me squirm. Still, a compliment's a compliment. And today, I needed one. It's only a little past noon and it's been a crappy day. I'll spare you most of the details, but to refer to a recent blog, that headlight I used to strong-arm to blink on every night has now steadfastly refused to shimmer, so I'm worried about meeting my friendly neighborhood cop on the way home from Shop-n-Smile tonight. We'll leave the bitching of today to just one.

It was just lunch and I had parked on the road and ran into the big University Center to get my lunch and buy a one-day parking permit. I was playing that game you play with the parking checkers here, since they're notorious here for handing out parking tickets like pediatricians hand out lollipops. I needed to buy the permit, grab my lunch, and get back to my car before it got a shiny new parking violation. Universities are always such a colossal pain when it comes to parking.

So, I was in the salad bar line, trying to turbo-make my salad, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see the woman next to me giving me the body language for, "Hurry up, move over. I'm making my salad too!" So, I moved over politely and continued building my masterpiece.

Then, I got the signal again. So again, I stepped over and continued. When I felt it a third time, I suddenly heard her exclaim, "I'm so sorry, I'm just starting at you! Your hair is so beautiful!"

I looked up, both startled and flattered, into the face of a woman about my height, also with blue eyes, and with hair about the same length as mine. Her hair was a bit blonder (mine's kinda strawberry-light-brownish) and a bit curlier. I thought it was beautiful. It wasn't exactly a doppelganger moment, but it was close enough.

"Oh, well it looks just like yours!" I said smiling.

"Oh no," she said, "Yours isn't as curly. It's more wavy and nice."

"I wish mine was more curly!" I said, and then began to feel self-conscious about this salad bar line mutual admiration society. "Thank you!" I added with some enthusiasm.

And then we continued on with our lives. But I felt a little zing of happiness with the compliment.

It's funny, I always hated my natural hair. Being wavy, it unfortunately isn't Rapunzel-like cascading waves either, it has always been dry, frizzy, and basically bumpy. You know, the one side flips up the other side flips under kind. I blew it straight several times a week for years and years until when living in NYC an instructive and insistent curly-hair salon stylist and the overwhelming number of lovely, curly-haired heroines at the Jewish organization I worked for inspired me to go natural. Plus, with all the curly hair products that have exploded onto the market, I can help to "enhance" my hair's waviness into something more controlled and appealing. I have now fully-accepted and have even come to love my hair just as it is (well, enhanced as it is). It feels good.

Well, let's just hope I'm still as self-loving after I chop off about a foot of it in the near future. I'm not self-loving how long it takes to dry hair that goes to the middle of my back.

On another note, oOoOOoh, I just ate three pickles! The day's getting even better. Now, where did I put those Sugar Babies?

Shop-n-Smile!

The J-O-B situation is slowly getting better.

I started working at the university. It feels real real good to be on a university campus again, and the University of Montana is very pretty. At least, I see its potential to be pretty. We are just crawling into Spring and Montana does not leave winter too willingly. It will still snow here, totally unexpectedly (to me), in the middle of the day. And not necessarily snowflakes that I am familiar with, but these tiny little pellets of snow, similar to hale,...but not.

Anyway, it's no wonder it feels so good to be here since I spent such a large chunk of my life on two university campuses. Of course, this time it's different. I'm not an undergrad or the youngest student in my graduate program anymore. I'm just a 30-something temp who isn't wearing jeans and sneakers or carrying an enormous bookbag anymore. At least it's a temp with the university and not another agency!

Oh, and I got ANOTHER call from another university department, but I told them I'd already made a commitment to the department I'm in now and I couldn't do it. It was kind of a bummer since it was a pretty nice job, but despite what happened at my PREVIOUS temp job, I don't really like doing things like that. And there will be other jobs...I hope.

These temporary positions feel like you're always at the casino rolling the dice. It's all about timing and impressions. You're trying to do a good job so you can make it to the NEXT job with a favorable recommendation, and of course, the NEXT job has to start right around the time your present job ends. It's maddening. You feel like you're gambling with your own life, which you kind of are, since it's your rent, fuel, and cat food that are on the line. You don't want to piss off your present employer with your new job search, taking off for interviews and such, but you don't want to wait TOO long since nowadays so many positions require long application processes and multiple interviews.

The job I'm at now only lasts until June (with the "possibility" of an extension). I know how it goes...funding and the "we'll see if we really like you" factor kicks in. And this university, though a state school, seems to really struggle with funding in a way that surprises me. Back during my time at the Univeristy of Wisconsin-Madison, the university itself always bitched about not having enough money and needing to raise tuition, but if you spent some time at the university and used its wide array of splendid services, you'd see that they were doing very well. I guess each state is different in how they treat their universities.

What I think I haven't mentioned either, is that about two weeks ago I started a job at a retail store. Not Target again, but let's just say it's a VERY similar place. How 'bout we call it "Shop-n-Smile." I work there nights and weekends. It's a LOT less intense than Target, but it's also a lot less structured and polished, which can be annoying. And they make me tuck in my shirt, which I HATE. *cough* Anyways...

It was a weird experience, because I got to the interview, and I was asked to sit in a row of chairs facing three supervisors. There was one from apparel, one from hardlines, and one from the cashier section. There were already two other applicants sitting in the row with me -- an attractive high school student (female), and a somewhat shady-looking male with a bald head and tightly folded arms. The three interviewers would ask questions, and we'd have to answer them in turn. It was an odd experience, especially since the three of us couldn't be more different. I think each of my answers was about 3x longer than theirs. I try to be talkative in an interview without turning into Gabby McChat.

I thought the teenager did a good job, though she was very obviously nervous. The shady male kept making comments about his disgruntlement at his past jobs. Idiot! Don't you know you to ix-nay on the riticism-cay during an interview?? When they asked me where I would prefer to work, I quickly said "hardlines" which basically consists of anything that is NOT clothes/shoes or the registers. I learned from Target how un-fun it can be to work apparel, especially working the infants/kids department *vomit* And though cashiering can be fun, a shift where you just stand in place hour after hour can be excrutiating.

After a few more questions, they asked the three of us to go and sit in the breakroom while they conferred. Of course, they gave us the 5-minute "even if we don't hire you now, we'll keep your application and maybe we'll hire you later (yeah right)" speech, so I knew at least one of us didn't make the cut. After an astonishing 20 minutes cooling our heels (what could necessitate ALL that conferring?), they called us back in, each directed to a different supervisor. I sat down with the hardlines guy who said, "What area do you like to work in best?" So I told him honestly, housewares and domestics (furniture, bedding, kitchen stuff, basically everything for the house). I think it's one of the more interesting and least frustrating areas to work. I would work anywhere, but I was praying he wouldn't tell me "Toys," since that section is just about as nightmarish as you can imagine.

He smiled and said, "That's exactly where I have an opening." Score! So, all he had to do was wait for my background check to come back (do felonies count against you?) and then I could start.

So, a week later I was sent to training. Though the trainer was a very nice woman, it was one of the absolute worst training sessions I have ever been on. I felt myself appreciating Target more and more, despite all the things that had annoyed me about them. The majority of the training consisted in us watching fantastically boring videos. The trainer would often push play, and then go and disappear for awhile. Often the tape would end and the four of us would all stare at our shoes for several minutes in polite embarrassment. There were three other women in training with me. A pharmacy student who would intern in the pharamacy, a woman who would be a cashier, and the teenager from my interview who would work in apparel. Apparently Joe Dis Gruntled didn't make the cut.

So, here I am a couple weeks later. The job is easy, and Shop-n-Smile, though a nice store, gets very little business, though of course I'm comparing it to Target during Christmas, which was INSANE. But all the biggies are here in town (Wal-Mart, ShopKo, Target, K-Mart, Stein Mart), so there's lots of competition. I spend hours and hours each shift very.....slowly.....walking through the aisles straightening candles and picture frames, re-rolling the rugs people lay out on the floor to try, and folding aisles of puffy bath towels. It's hardly brain surgery, and sometimes I think I'll go mad from the boredom, but it's a job, it's easy, it's inside, and we could damn sure use the money.

Of course the only drawback is working all day at my temp job (8-5ish) and then racing over to Shop-n-Smile to work from 5ish-10pm. Since I'm one of these freaks who needs like 9 hours of sleep a night to feel even remotely functional in the morning, I've been waking up as a cast member from Night of the Living Dead. I know I can't keep this up forever, but who knows what will happen with the day temp job? I need this night gig to keep some checks coming in for awhile.

Ohhhh Missoula, one day my ship will come in, and I will feast and feast upon that fat bounty!

Until then, I'm knackered.

Bye Bye Kyle!

So, today was my last day at the crazy organization I've been working for on and off for the past six weeks.

Of course, the boss doesn't know it yet.

In the end I completely wussed out. Lovely Steph, who I feel has been my advocate through all of this, basically told me to just go ahead and let the temp agency take care of it. I originally wanted to tell the supervisor, Kyle, but after hearing his double-talk again today, I thought, Fuck it, Fuck him, and get me the Fuck out of here!

So, come Monday, Kyle will have one less staff member, and I'm sure he'll break down in tears, because I've watched in disbelief as he has played the victim in the past couple weeks. As if the whole organization is crashing down around him and everyone's out to get him. Who knows, with his management skills, they probably are. Just last week he was telling the editor she had to start coming in at 8am (she normally comes in between 10 and 10:30 since her main job is to edit -- something that does not require a 9-5 presence). She resisted, and then I heard him whine in a loud and pathetic voice that startled me, "But I need helllllp!" Do you know what he needed "help" with? Answering the phones. I swear to god, each day when I was there and answering all phone calls from 9-5, I probably picked up the phone a total of a dozen times a day. Tops.

So now I need to move forward. I had the two interviews at the University. A week has gone by, and the "good" one that I was not-so-qualified for (despite the fact that they called ME in after seeing my resume in a temp pool) has already rejected me. What I have left is the guaranteed, low-level, short-term clerical job with what seems to be some very nice people. Then, yesterday I got ANOTHER call. Seems the university needs someone real soon for a very high administrative job for one of the highest-level officials in the school. (Yes, I am trying to be somewhat vague). It's a fantastic opportunity, one that pays much more than low-level clerical one, and it will probably last longer too.

But of course, there's a problem. The clerical job had to wait a week to interview me, then they had to wait another week while I waited for the "good" job to decide whether they wanted me or not. Now I know I'm free, NEED a job, and I don't want to make the clerical job wait any longer (I told them this coming Monday by the latest). But but but...what IF I could get that really high-level administrative job? What if...?

I know...bird in the hand...two in the bush. Fuck fuck fuckaroo!

This is my plan (Beau always laughs when I say that, which is quite often). I'm going to leave a voicemail message with the clerical job, tell them I haven't forgotten them, and will call them by the end of the day on Monday (like I kinda said anyway). That way, it will give me all day Monday to wait patiently for the high-level administrative job to come calling. I was told they were going to move fast, but they couldn't guarantee HOW fast.

*sigh*

Anyway, if I was going to have a problem, this is a good one to have.

Oooh, M*A*S*H is on! Time to go! You know me, party party party!

Oh, and I just put this picture in for the helluva it, cause I think it was so cool. Although it was taken in a city in New Zealand, the photo is just SO Montana that it just fits in so well here. Gore, New Zealand! The World Capital of Brown Trout Fishing! Woo!