jennings rampage

When I’m not temping, I have no motivation to write here.

I was in a hurry this morning, and was way groggy getting up at 7:30am to be to work downtown by 9am sharp. I was so out of it that I put on a black shirt and wore blue socks with it. Can you believe that? I looked ridiculous, far more so than usual.

Today, I had the great pleasure of being a receptionist for the first time. This was remarkably simple and far more enjoyable than I expected it to be. Answer phone, direct call, repeat. Sort some mail, surf some web, drink some coffee. A pleasant way to pass the time and pick up $12 for each hour that passed.

The job was quite easy because half the calls didn’t need to be transferred and three-quarters of the mail didn’t need to be delivered. It wasn’t explained to me overtly, but it was pretty obvious that this company had just gone through some serious lay-offs. I would answer the phone, the caller would state the name, it wouldn’t be on my list, I’d say there was no one here by that name. If they insisted, I’d say they were no longer with the company. When mail came in for these vanished people, it went straight to the trash. Seemed pretty odd, but that’s what I was told. I got three calls from the Department of Labor wanting to verify prior employment. I even got a call from a former employee who said a package was delivered for her to her old office, and she wanted to know if they had it. I told her to call back on Monday.

So clearly, I took full advantage of the high-speed Internet access that I missed ever-so-much. I finally got a chance to read Terry Jinn’s beverage journal, which just can’t be experienced over a dialup connection. It just can’t. So it loaded real quick-like, and I re-lived Terry’s life a day at a time, and enjoyed myself immensely. So I IMed Terry to tell him he drank well, and he replied back, and he didn’t know it was me, and long story short, Terry Jinn blocked me on Instant Messenger. Terry Jinn blocked me. It was hard to come to grips with. So I headed back to Brooklyn for lunch and a nap.

Ptolemy Slocum considers it remarkable that I believe in the concept of karma, considering I hold so many other aspiritual beliefs. (For example, I believe that humans have souls, but I don’t believe other animals do. I even catch heat from DeCoster for that one. Well, pardon me for believing that the soul is a perquisite of sentience!) Well, karma is easily observable. What goes around comes around. Take care of others, and others will take care of you. That may not be the dictionary definition of karma, but it’s close enough. And so when I was transfering to the L at Union Square, and encountered an older woman at the top of the long staircase down to the platform with a large cart and a frustrated look, I considered just passing her by like everyone else, since I didn’t want to miss the train. But I figured this would be a pretty easy good deed for the day, so I doubled back offered to carry it for her, and she accepted. It was easily forty pounds if it was an ounce, and I went slowly and walked with her so as not to make her nervous. We made it to the bottom, she thanked me (but didn’t ask God to bless me, which makes me uncomfortable), and in whizzed the Brooklyn-bound train. See? There was no way I was missing a train.

When I boarded the train, I headed to the back of the car by the door, and leaned against the conductor’s door. I was standing in front of a remarkably unattractive couple sitting in the “priority for the disabled” seat. The woman looked at her man, and I caught her give him the sideways “hey, get a load of that guy” glance. Fucking socks!

So I took a nap and had some dinner and putzed about the apartment, catching some Braves/Astros baseball and the Anna Nicole Show. I recommend both. Joe and I headed back into the city for the big birthday bash, which was quite enjoyable. Got to see my man Dan Dunford, which is always a pleasure, and something that has become far too infrequent. He’s one of the good ones, like you need me to tell you that. I ran into Terry Jinn, and cleared the air. He promised to unblock me, which relieved me a great deal. And the rest. Joe and I are ready to go home, so the two of us and JB go outside, and I make to walk to the train station, but Joe says we’re taking a cab. He waves around a $20 bill he found in the bathroom, and so I assume the cab ride’s on him. How silly of me. Eventually it was, but that clearly wasn’t his intent. I guess Joe doesn’t believe in karma.

Joe rode me for making him pay for that cab, since he’s so broke, and I owe him so much money. Yes, of course, I forgot about that. Here’s some free advice from me to you: 1) Never borrow money from an Italian, they’ll remind you of your obligation to them every chance they get. 2) Never borrow money from your roommate, since they’ll have endless chances to remind you of that obligation. I love Joe to death, and I know it’s just his nature to be perpetually and vocally concerned with all of his problems, but I’ll gouge out my own eye before I borrow money from him again. It’s just not a good idea.