Last time, I mentioned my new job. Basically, my part of the process at Relationship-Based Reality Show came to its natural end, and I landed a gig doing the same thing for another show, which we�ll call�Competition-Based Reality Show. (Oh, I hope I didn�t just give it away!) Anyway, the new job is very similar to the old job, but with a few added factors that make it a smidgeon more complicated. Such as, for example, the commute. Incidentally, I did not get lost at all tonight! Although, I did at one point think I�d gotten lost, and turned off the highway only to realize I was going in the right direction after all and had to get back on immediately. So I didn�t exactly get it onto the green in one shot, but at least I didn�t take out a goose with a shanked drive from the tee. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
Other things that make it complicated? Glad you asked! I have new software to work with, and my bosses have different rules and regulations regarding what I�m supposed to do and how I�m to do it, and�you know what? Those are all the obvious and boring reasons, and it�s not really why I�m writing this entry. You all don�t give a shit about my boss�s alleged apathy about how much we get done, provided that we just work through our whole shift (I do give a shit about this, of course�at my last job, my boss didn�t care how early I left, provided I got a certain amount of work done before I did, and there were days when I was hardly at work for four hours). Let�s get to the nitty-gritty.
One of my co-workers from RBRS was first to land the new gig with CBRS, and she apparently said some very nice things about me in her interview, which is what prompted them to contact me. This was very nice of her, but�well, she likes to talk. A lot. The reason she wanted me to move with her is because she thinks I make funny jokes, and it gives her something to do besides work. Conversely, as much as I love to talk, I live in eternal and (hopefully) irrational fear of getting canned for any number of tiny reasons, including not being as productive as I�m supposed to be. Hence my preference for quantifiable production expectations, rather than abstract notions of �work till whenever�.
The trouble was that we were to be the only two people on the night shift. It used to bug me while we were at RBRS that she would keep trying to start conversations while I was trying to focus on my shit, but there were other people for her to turn to when I didn�t respond. At CBRS, there�s only me, and she�ll just keep poking me until look at her. And believe me, I look at her. If looks could kill, I�d be giving the Medusa a run for her money.
Well, I finally learned how to be polite but still focused on my work at the same time, and my bosses seem satisfied. However, they just added a new guy on the night shift, who started tonight. To begin with, he interrupted me about once every five minutes to ask me some question or another, usually a variant on the one he asked me about two questions previous. Secondly, he used some questionable language when discussing a few of the show�s competitors, and although he may have been trying to be funny in a postmodern-xenophobic-irony kind of way�I don�t find that shit funny, yo. If we were bestest friends, and I knew him well enough to know that he was actually just mocking the willfully ignorant, I might find it a little amusing. But I don�t know him from a can of paint, and I don�t appreciate words like�well, let�s not go there.
Anyway, although I am grateful for my new job, and am working to the best of my abilities, I�m getting a little frustrated. Now I�ve got two people regularly interrupting me, one on each side, and although I don�t want to be rude, I�m finding it increasingly difficult to maintain any grasp at all on my patience. Currently, I�m clinging to it like a drowning man to his seat-bottom cushion, but I�m losing my grip.
I don�t want to be unnecessarily rude to anyone, but, again, if looks could kill? I�d be wanted for a spree about now.
Someone Got Here By Searching For: �and he was all� woohoo I�m Watching: Lost. Oh, J. J., how I love you. I�m Eating: Old, dried-out fudge. Don�t ask.