I got new glasses today. They are blue, with tiny stars on the arms. I’m don’t quite like them as much as I expected to, but part of that is the new even stronger prescription. The world feels just that much further away (but -9 will do that to anybody). My right eye is worse than my left and so the recurring perception is that my glasses are uneven, and so I’ll start to adjust them before realizing “oops, these were freshly fitted just earlier today.” But, well, they are blue.
Also found out today Consumating will be going offline for good in about a month. This is sad for a number of reasons. I’ve met a lot of people through Consumating, good friends. There’s also a lot of people I like that I just… never really hung out with. But could have! Some who live across the country, who I might have someday met, who I probably never will. The community (and there is a community, in this instance) is being broken up. I’ve been archiving some of my old stuff that I wrote, although now that I’ve read Waxy’s writeup on CNET’s Consu-killing decision I realize I didn’t have to. I gave lots of tags, thumbed up every question for a couple people, and wrote some nice notes. It’s not that I think that’s important, it’s just that I’m sad I didn’t take as much out of it as I could’ve. Life is short. This post isn't. Keep reading…
It’s all lifestyle, really. It’s how you live. And where you spend 8 hours a day 5 days a week is a pretty big chunk of life. So how can you be a cool person, an interesting person, a valuable person, if your job isn’t cool, interesting, or valuable?
Well, I suppose it would be hard. I can’t really say—my job doesn’t suck. I like the fact, working in a hostel, I get to talk to people from Germany and Canada and Japan on a daily basis. Sure, I talk to them and take their money. And tell them they can’t drink in the building. And give them directions to McDonald’s, sometimes. My job doesn’t suck, mostly. There’s advantages and disadvantages and such things can’t ever be changed, and that’s a truer and more cliché adage than I’d care to reflect on right now. Only difference is how much you get paid.
I know people with cooler jobs. Some jobs carry a lifestyle in and of themselves (“I’m an artist” …and what do you do in your off time?). It shapes how you are as a person because, well, you are what you do. There’s a responsibility, a damnable adult responsibility no matter if you’re dedicated to your craft or if your job description requires nights and weekends wearing a beeper. It’s odd to finally understand that.
My favorite shape: the circle. Circles are one of the most structurally sound shapes known to man. Circles are also intriguing as symbols of perfection, and their geometry can reveal much about nature’s design. Speaking personally, the only tattoo I want is a circle—exactingly proportioned in a thin black line, drawn on my right bicep, parallel to the collarbone. Let me lead you along on one of my imperfect circular journeys, starting one autumn evening last…
Where do you think all of this is leading?
That’s right! I worry too much. And, although the job I got offered (the same job I start tomorrow) isn’t the best, isn’t ideal, in other words isn’t perfect, I’m quite tired of being spun about by different employers all around town and feeling like I’m running in… circles.
Incidentally—and I say this with no little amount of ironic, synchronistically-recognized cosmic amusement—the next Buzzed Bee is tomorrow evening.
It is an important and popular fact that often the smallest detail can make the biggest difference. This bothers me. Fr’instance, today, when told that it was someone’s “[first day being a] manager [at the Elements Hostel on Mission st.],” instead of giving [what I later realized was] a condescending “all is forgiven,” I should have spoke the truth and said “could’ve fooled me.” This is just an example, of course. One’s brain doesn’t always choose the absolute best option in the allotted time. Hm, here’s another example: rather than say, “So I’ll hear back from you soon” after another interview is concluded [which conveys that one has arrogantly assumed that the job is yours], one should say something more like “I hope to hear back from you soon,” since really that’s all you can take from any job interview [that doesn't end in signing papers]—hope. If this ever happens to you try not to worry about it. You gave good interviews, and the respective [hostel] jobs weren’t as bad as you imagined. I’m trying not to worry too much about it, too. Time travel does sound nice though. Damned details.
Guess what? I got a job. And I’m here. Now.
I join the great tradition established by blogger big’uns like master Tony Pierce—of taking time when you might otherwise be working and instead writing b.s. you copy onto the internet. Cept I’m not working for a super-secret intelligence organization protecting the innocent, but answering phones.
“Good morning, Westin Mission Hills resort and spa and villas, golf course, convention center, beauty pageant host, annual lesbian mecca, etc etc, this is Robert, how may I direct your call?”
I’m Robert again. It’s not as bad as I thought it’d be. People get your name right the first time.
It’s a pretty laid-back job, relatively speaking. No spouts of molten shrimp or light-sensitive chemicals you can spill that remove your skin. I sit in a chair and direct calls, very appropriately. As an associate of a 5-star, 5-diamond resort I cannot say “hi.” I say “hello.” It’s a good gig but I have to memorize a lot of things. For instance, the extension for the Gary Player golf bag room is different than the extension for the Pete Dye bag room. Also, there happen to be about 3000 such individual extensions.
But hey, paid training boy-o. $8.50/hour isn’t anything I’ll scoff at.
Wish me luck, intarweb malcontents.