FA+
Shop
DOOOOOOOMED!!!111!1
19 years ago
General
So, I was walking home from work this morning, when I realized I was hearing something. A very specific something, every so often sounding vaguely to my left: distinctly, the piano-tone 'baDING' windows makes when an error pops up.
And that is when I realized...
THE SERVER THAT RUNS REALITY IS CRASHING!
THE WORLD IS ABOUT TO END AND THERE IS NOTHING WE CAN DO!
WE ARE NOTHING MORE THAN BINARY BLIPS ON THE DISINTEGRATING HARD DRIVE OF A COSMIC SCRIPT KIDDIE! REPENT! QUIT YOUR JOB! SLACK OFF! WE'RE DOOMED!
DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMED!
And then nothing happened.
Anyways, I've been thinking and I've realized that I'm really not good at my job. If my supervisors could see me on my shift, they'd fire me on the spot. I'm just not a good security guard. I'm probably the least aware person you will ever have the displeasure of meeting because I am ALWAYS off in my own little world, Especially during acts of pointless, repetitive physical exertion (e.g. Walking). If someone broke in while i'm playing sword with my trusy STICK of THWACKAGE PLUSTWO, I wouldn't be screwed. I wouldn't be nailed. I'd be bolted.
"I've been screwed, I've been nailed, but I've NEVER been bolted!"
--The Audience at The Come-Again Players Presents: The Rocky Horror Picture Show (every saturday night, midnight at Tower Theater in Amherst, MA)
Being bolted has Got to suck.
So, I really suck at security. The Boss Man has had to give me talking-tos on several occasions already, about keeping my shirts pressed, creased, and pristine white. PFAH. Yeah, Right; I'm going to take precious seconds out of my life to lovingly tend to the whims of what ammounts to a BIG BLACK AND WHITE BULLSEYE that I have to huff around in every night. Also bullshit like shaving and haircuts. I know, I know, Security OFFICERS are supposed to be clean and neat! They're supposed to fucking be BOY SCOUTS(trustworthy loyal helpful friendly courtious kind obedient cheerful thrifty brave clean reverent WHEW still got it gods damn my bleeding swisscheesed backwards soul)! (what the fuck is THRIFTY about anyways)
I quit the boy scouts for a reason. I think that reason was because they hated me and refused to use my 'legal' name because it was a 'cool' name and I 'was not cool', but that's besides the point. The point is, boy scouts are BULLSHIT. I know, I saw them in 'action'. All they do is smoke weed and play Magic: The Gathering. And occasionally throw cans of bug spray in the fire for the special effects(Boom) and thus potentially kill themselves(OH GOD WHERES MY SKIN). Trying to make anybody act like the IDEAL of boy scouts is a lost cause, and trying to make anybody act like REAL boy scouts is fucking SUICIDE. THEY GIVE THOSE LITTLE BASTARDS GUNS, FOR J HOWARD CHRISSAKES! GUNS!
I DON'T EVEN GET A GUN AT MY JOB!
It's not fair.
I'm just not professional. Makes me sick to my stomach having to be all prim and proper. I mean, I have no probelm with calling someone 'sir' or 'm'am' or 'mister' or 'miss'. Hell, I get a kick out of it. Any random individual STARTS with a bonus of benefit-of-a-doubt respect(Limited time offer while supplies last!), and there are a lot of awesome people out there, talented, funny, intelligent people, that deserve to be referred to as such-- even if it's a half-facetious and bumpkinish-- and SOME of those people actually AREN'T figments of my imagination! At least, I THINK ZombieCat is not a figment of my imagination... But I dunno sometimes.
(Just gotta looove that waking nightmare feeling <3 ^_^ )
(yes, that's a compliment)
I plainly don't see myself working third shift security anymore in another six months. What I'd love to do is get paid to draw. Seriously. I'm trained in Computer Aided Drafting, which is much clicky listen to winamp as I go goodness. Can you imagine being paid to not only draw, but sit in front of a computer too? It may not be very glamorous in reality, but who the fuck needs reality anyway? I work a shit wageslave job and I STILL manage to twist slack out of it, I sure as fuck can get it out of a place where I already have ready-access to a computer at my fingertips, even if I Can't be online.
My job has also bitched at me for being a fridge theif and a possibly unbeknownst shoplifter. Seriously, I had no idea they didn't want us drinking their gods damned soda! If they're so fucking concerned why didn't they just shut off their damn machine! There's also of course the self-grooming issue. I'm going to have to cough up another 15 bucks for yet another haircut pretty soon. My hair used to be long. My friends from Real Life, when I HAD any ( ;_; ) used to love brushing it. That made me murr and feel all warm'n'fuzzeh! ^^ Ahhhh, memories. But no thanks to THEM... Or maybe it's a deep south thing. Long hair can make me look hippie-ish. From behind, once, I was mistaken for a girl! Boy was THAT guy's face red! Miss WHO? Rofflekoptor.
Combined with the poor-on-nonexistent personal upkeep habits, a few stark LIES on my shift reports, and my tendency to be off in the clouds or down in a dungeon valiantly slaying plant monsters with my Sti-ah-i-mean-SWORD... OF AWESOME, Kompressor DANCES more than I am good at being a Security Guard.
Yet, ironically enough, my coworkers, allthough taking their job seriously (in precisely the manner I am NOT), seem to not know their hands from their ASSES. Last night when I went in for my shift, do you know how many doors were open?
Do you?
DO YOU?
ALL OF THEM!
IF THEY CARE SO MUCH ABOUT THIS PLACE, WHY DON'T THEY CLOSE THE GODS DAMNED DOORS!!! No, they weren't just unlocked, SOME of them were propped open AJAR. It's like they didn't even TRY. I'm not saying I'm bad at security because I don't TRY; Trying can at LEAST be more amusing than staring at minesweeper all night long. My insanity would be just THAT MUCH MORE VIOLENT, and not in a fun way, if I didn't get out of that deathtrap office every once in a while to take a walk! I don't give two shits and a flying yiff about that job and I do better than these staunch, strict, BURLY, clean-pressed as though straight from the clone plant PINK BOYS who actually think their 'Work ATTITUDE' makes one damn bit of difference.
It's been said to me again and again, "you're too smart to be working here." "What are you DOING here?" "You don't belong here! You should be off doing SMART stuff!", and I'm starting to really wonder if I should take a hint and leave their stupid shortstaffing crisis just a bit more dire. They're working me seven days a week, after all, because there isn't a second 'night man' to take the third shift while I'm off. I'm almost morbidly, tantalizingly curious to see how they'd helplessly scramble and squirm if they suddenly had NO 'night men'.
Muwahaha.
...but I'm not interested enough to give it a full-fledged ear-stabbing window-rattling blood-freezing GUFFAW of MADNESS.
OH NOS IM STOPPING LOOKOU--
And that is when I realized...
THE SERVER THAT RUNS REALITY IS CRASHING!
THE WORLD IS ABOUT TO END AND THERE IS NOTHING WE CAN DO!
WE ARE NOTHING MORE THAN BINARY BLIPS ON THE DISINTEGRATING HARD DRIVE OF A COSMIC SCRIPT KIDDIE! REPENT! QUIT YOUR JOB! SLACK OFF! WE'RE DOOMED!
DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMED!
And then nothing happened.
Anyways, I've been thinking and I've realized that I'm really not good at my job. If my supervisors could see me on my shift, they'd fire me on the spot. I'm just not a good security guard. I'm probably the least aware person you will ever have the displeasure of meeting because I am ALWAYS off in my own little world, Especially during acts of pointless, repetitive physical exertion (e.g. Walking). If someone broke in while i'm playing sword with my trusy STICK of THWACKAGE PLUSTWO, I wouldn't be screwed. I wouldn't be nailed. I'd be bolted.
"I've been screwed, I've been nailed, but I've NEVER been bolted!"
--The Audience at The Come-Again Players Presents: The Rocky Horror Picture Show (every saturday night, midnight at Tower Theater in Amherst, MA)
Being bolted has Got to suck.
So, I really suck at security. The Boss Man has had to give me talking-tos on several occasions already, about keeping my shirts pressed, creased, and pristine white. PFAH. Yeah, Right; I'm going to take precious seconds out of my life to lovingly tend to the whims of what ammounts to a BIG BLACK AND WHITE BULLSEYE that I have to huff around in every night. Also bullshit like shaving and haircuts. I know, I know, Security OFFICERS are supposed to be clean and neat! They're supposed to fucking be BOY SCOUTS(trustworthy loyal helpful friendly courtious kind obedient cheerful thrifty brave clean reverent WHEW still got it gods damn my bleeding swisscheesed backwards soul)! (what the fuck is THRIFTY about anyways)
I quit the boy scouts for a reason. I think that reason was because they hated me and refused to use my 'legal' name because it was a 'cool' name and I 'was not cool', but that's besides the point. The point is, boy scouts are BULLSHIT. I know, I saw them in 'action'. All they do is smoke weed and play Magic: The Gathering. And occasionally throw cans of bug spray in the fire for the special effects(Boom) and thus potentially kill themselves(OH GOD WHERES MY SKIN). Trying to make anybody act like the IDEAL of boy scouts is a lost cause, and trying to make anybody act like REAL boy scouts is fucking SUICIDE. THEY GIVE THOSE LITTLE BASTARDS GUNS, FOR J HOWARD CHRISSAKES! GUNS!
I DON'T EVEN GET A GUN AT MY JOB!
It's not fair.
I'm just not professional. Makes me sick to my stomach having to be all prim and proper. I mean, I have no probelm with calling someone 'sir' or 'm'am' or 'mister' or 'miss'. Hell, I get a kick out of it. Any random individual STARTS with a bonus of benefit-of-a-doubt respect(Limited time offer while supplies last!), and there are a lot of awesome people out there, talented, funny, intelligent people, that deserve to be referred to as such-- even if it's a half-facetious and bumpkinish-- and SOME of those people actually AREN'T figments of my imagination! At least, I THINK ZombieCat is not a figment of my imagination... But I dunno sometimes.
(Just gotta looove that waking nightmare feeling <3 ^_^ )
(yes, that's a compliment)
I plainly don't see myself working third shift security anymore in another six months. What I'd love to do is get paid to draw. Seriously. I'm trained in Computer Aided Drafting, which is much clicky listen to winamp as I go goodness. Can you imagine being paid to not only draw, but sit in front of a computer too? It may not be very glamorous in reality, but who the fuck needs reality anyway? I work a shit wageslave job and I STILL manage to twist slack out of it, I sure as fuck can get it out of a place where I already have ready-access to a computer at my fingertips, even if I Can't be online.
My job has also bitched at me for being a fridge theif and a possibly unbeknownst shoplifter. Seriously, I had no idea they didn't want us drinking their gods damned soda! If they're so fucking concerned why didn't they just shut off their damn machine! There's also of course the self-grooming issue. I'm going to have to cough up another 15 bucks for yet another haircut pretty soon. My hair used to be long. My friends from Real Life, when I HAD any ( ;_; ) used to love brushing it. That made me murr and feel all warm'n'fuzzeh! ^^ Ahhhh, memories. But no thanks to THEM... Or maybe it's a deep south thing. Long hair can make me look hippie-ish. From behind, once, I was mistaken for a girl! Boy was THAT guy's face red! Miss WHO? Rofflekoptor.
Combined with the poor-on-nonexistent personal upkeep habits, a few stark LIES on my shift reports, and my tendency to be off in the clouds or down in a dungeon valiantly slaying plant monsters with my Sti-ah-i-mean-SWORD... OF AWESOME, Kompressor DANCES more than I am good at being a Security Guard.
Yet, ironically enough, my coworkers, allthough taking their job seriously (in precisely the manner I am NOT), seem to not know their hands from their ASSES. Last night when I went in for my shift, do you know how many doors were open?
Do you?
DO YOU?
ALL OF THEM!
IF THEY CARE SO MUCH ABOUT THIS PLACE, WHY DON'T THEY CLOSE THE GODS DAMNED DOORS!!! No, they weren't just unlocked, SOME of them were propped open AJAR. It's like they didn't even TRY. I'm not saying I'm bad at security because I don't TRY; Trying can at LEAST be more amusing than staring at minesweeper all night long. My insanity would be just THAT MUCH MORE VIOLENT, and not in a fun way, if I didn't get out of that deathtrap office every once in a while to take a walk! I don't give two shits and a flying yiff about that job and I do better than these staunch, strict, BURLY, clean-pressed as though straight from the clone plant PINK BOYS who actually think their 'Work ATTITUDE' makes one damn bit of difference.
It's been said to me again and again, "you're too smart to be working here." "What are you DOING here?" "You don't belong here! You should be off doing SMART stuff!", and I'm starting to really wonder if I should take a hint and leave their stupid shortstaffing crisis just a bit more dire. They're working me seven days a week, after all, because there isn't a second 'night man' to take the third shift while I'm off. I'm almost morbidly, tantalizingly curious to see how they'd helplessly scramble and squirm if they suddenly had NO 'night men'.
Muwahaha.
...but I'm not interested enough to give it a full-fledged ear-stabbing window-rattling blood-freezing GUFFAW of MADNESS.
OH NOS IM STOPPING LOOKOU--
I wouldn't want to get paid to draw, unless I could draw whatever the hell I wanted to, whenever the hell I wanted to. That's the problem. There are always DEADLINES and REQUESTS TO DRAW WHAT YOU DON'T REALLY WANT TO. Drawing, to me, is kind of an escape from reality, and being told what to draw kind of defeats the purpose.
I already know: They'll probably have me drawing cookie cutter suburbia houses. But there's a SECRET... There is a RIGHT way to draw cookie cutter houses, and not one of these people has figured it out yet. If they TELL ME to design a house to 'these specifications', unless they do all the work FOR ME, there is a -lot- of room for license in there. If someone in the future walks into a neighborhood that I DESIGN the buildings for... their minds shall be blown. That is my mission.
Obviously there are things that are not worth making-yourself-enjoy; like my current job, which will not benefit anyone were I to be enthusiastic or inspired at all. Walking is not a SKILL. But drawing is a skill, it DOES require inspiration, and therefore is worth inspiring myself toward...
There is also another secret: there is a way of utilizing inspiration that causes MORE inspiration. It is dangerous, however, as it leads to the Starving Artist's plight, one who cannot possibly afford to eat because he MUST depict what has come to his mind RIGHT NOW! and NOW!! ...aaand.... NOW! AND NOW!
But yes, my plan is precisely to get a job in an architectural firm, and use the tasks they give me to Escape Reality. I see a door there, and it does not bother me in the slightest that nobody else can see it; I see a lot of things that other people don't, and a good part of them DO turn out to be there.
nobody else in my office can figure out minesweeper.
Very well put. I can understand what you're saying; I've had the displeasure of experiencing a dead-end job - for two months - and it sucked ass. Every freakin' minute of it. There were other women that had worked there for six years, and I still can't comprehend how anyone can be satisfied with that. I practically skipped out the door when I had my last paycheck in my hands...
Good luck with getting off of guard duty and doing what you really want :)