11/22/2004 - 1:00 p.m. | informality bordering on rudeness

With car and glasses payments, my funds were reaching critical lows, and I was planning on just floundering through the weekend and hoping that I finally get some money in the mail (Maybe not the most logical assumption, but when is optimism that way?). "Well," I told myself. "At least you'll be working a buttload at the candy store in not too long." Must everything I do be filled with such a sense of forboding!

Through no fault of my own (OK, maybe some), I was stuck in traffic on Lincoln, late for work and already getting later. All around me were people making driving errors that I can only call critically retarded, driving in between lanes and weaving while flashing blinkers and braking at random intervals. I wasn't moving at all, and it was pouring down rain, and already I was in a certain mindset. Call it negativity, but I was deciding what I would do if I got fired for this transgression. "Smoke a cigarette" seems to be the number one answer these days, even though I don't smoke and I never do, even when I have these thoughts. But although the rage should have been building up inside, although I should have been firing off a litany of swearwords at high speed and volume, I was strangely calm. Resigned to my fate. Ted Leo was on the radio. That helped.

Anyway, I got there, grotesquely late, and Lori's like, "Don't clock in." Always a good sign. So we go in back, and she's like, "Someone made a purchase using your discount last week." HUH "Someone made a purchase using your employee discount last week." I heard what you said, I don't know what you're talking about. When was this? "Last Saturday." Ohhhh... Yeah, I brought my girlfriend in, and I bought her some gum. "No, she bought some gum." What? No, I bought some gum. "The credit card used in that transaction is not in your name." Oh yeah, I guess. I didn't have any cash on me, so she put it on her card. (Still not seeing what the deal is). "Well, if you look at the employee manual..." which she pulls out, flips to a page of, and points at. I'll paraphrase: "An employee discount used by a non-employee is considered theft and will be grounds for immediate termination." Wait, forty cents? (That was how much I saved on this felonious discounting). "I talked to Scott, and he said to follow policy, and there's the policy right there." She points to the book again. I laugh. "OK, here're my keys. I assume that's why I'm here anyway." Because if they had just told me I had been let go (which no one can ever seem to do), I could have conceivably run out and made copies of the keys and then robbed the place blind (Not that this thought hasn't crossed my mind before). 40 cents!! You want to see some real theft, huh? I've been the only one keeping the rein in on Smacko. The beast roars within me. "Did paychecks come this week or next?" She thinks for a moment. Next week. "OK, I'll drop by to pick it up then." I can mail if to you if you don't feel - "I'm fine with coming in. Have a swell night." You know, I really hated having to do this; I really wanted Scott to come in and tell you. Tell me what? You didn't say a damn word to me. You pointed at that fucking book. Honestly, guys, the cowardice of the modern world was what got me the most pissed off at first. At least have the courage to fucking fire me nice and curt. Everyone uses this namby-pabmy bullshit; I've never been let go blunt and upfront. I quit at IMPE and the factory, came to a mutual agreement at Hot Topic, and my hours were slowly drained by the Buckle. Where are all the people out there acting like assholes? Honestly, how will I ever learn to face rejection?

This is not to say that I wasn't upset. I mean, I wouldn't go so far to say that my job defined me as a person - I was already flushing the knowledge of candy I had once held (just like the knowledge of jeans, goth pants, pool hours, and bean towers that I used to have) - but it's still a blow to your ego if you let it be. I was trying hard not to, but I'm still the person I am, and things still sometimes bug me. Forty fucking cents. I could at least have been fired for something hilarious, like torching the store or mailing Scott a dead cat. Oh well. I called Missy for comfort, no answer, then my parents, who reacted about as expected. They were both a little befuddled that I got fired for that particular transgression, Mom being more sympathetic, Dad being more realistic. "Well, guess you won't break that rule again." Seriously. I mean, it was spelled out so clearly in the book, but I had no idea that I was in trouble right until I read about it. I promised to go and look for a new job the next day, but I've kind of kept putting that on hold. I need a haircut and some self-esteem first.

The rest of the weekend was me being a gross heap more or less. We made comforting pasta and watched my old "Ghostwriter" VHS, which is still just as awful and glorious as I remembered. Kyle's brother looks just like the Mexican kid Alex - it scares me, the similarity. I've meanwhile been searching for other tapes to complete my collection (and my reason for existence), but apparently they are in short supply and there is much competition. Shelly and Kyle kept going over to Yousaf's to watch movies. I was resistant, feeling that I could find something better to do on my own (Wanted to dance or get smashed, see), but everyone is gone, and mostly I just watched movies alone then. Let's see... Ed Wood was soooo good. I dunno if that's how he was in real life, but it was so sweet and funny and strange (but acting like it wasn't strange), and it gave me a whole new appreciate for the flaming shitfest that is Plan 9 from Outer Space. Shelly wanted to watch 21 Grams, so I sat there with her, even though I hate hate hate fucking uggo Sean Penn. I dunno - it was an OK movie, but I don't really know if it needed its mixed up timeline. I mean, sometimes it works really well - Pulp Fiction used it wonderfully - and I guess it could kind of be seen as a way to isolate a certain emotion or something, but mostly it felt gimmicky. But then, I don't like any of the actors in it (except Naomi Watts' butt), so I could be a touch biased. Uhhh... City of God was well-made, and I did like the storytelling a fair amount, but I dunno if it was the shit-your-pants-great I had been promised so many times over. What else did I do with my time? Read most of Electroboy, a memoir about this guy with real bad manic episodes who has done all sorts of crazy shit - art forger, male escort, flights around the world for no reason, $25,000 shopping sprees. I'm not sure if I think it's a good book, but I do find what he does to be very interesting. I want to go get involved in the seedy male hustling scene! No coke, though, all right?

One morning I woke up and somehow decided that I needed to play Mike Tyson's Punch Out right then and there. And so I did. For many, many hours. Good shit, that. Soda Popinski and whatnot. "I'm going to make you feel punch-drunk!" Kyle got fairly hooked himself, but Shelly managed to drag us out of the house for a few hours to go to five or six already closed garage sales. Good work, dear. We finally ended up at these old ladies' house, and I guess they found some worthwhile stuff there, by which I mean cheap, useless shit. Shelly kept trying to convince me to buy these horrible rat ballerina earring for Missy, but I had not the fifty cents, so she got them instead. Earrings are a good idea, though, gift-wise. Too bad I am absolutely terrified to try and buy her anything related to fashion. Like, I feel like I know what she likes, but I still think I would be a total clod if I were to try and actually pick something out. She'd hate it. Speaking of Missy, she telephoned that night more than a little high on illegal substances, which was totally cute and funny. She kept falling over and giggling, and her friend Tracy pissed her pants. It makes me wonder what I'm missing out on sometimes.

Why is it that I am always hungriest when I am poorest? Is that a reflex? I dunno. Luckily, I made that evening's e-mall.com meeting at a Panera, where I still have a chunk of a gift card left. Glorious soup, salad! I have no idea for what this meeting existed, except to go over (yet again) what I would do with both more time and money. I feel like I've read about these psychological ploys before, and I imagine that they have this same book but have crossed out the title and scrawled "BUSINESS PLAN" above it in black marker.