Elementary Funk
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Creativity starves insanityBack from his trip overseas, the manager returned with a mean eye as ever. First thing called, the amount and style of packing tape used. While others may have a natural tendency to strap down the cardboard boxes with just enough tape, that won't work for everyone. Nor would making the tape look "nice and clean" for the receipients. Which will only mean even more packing tape will be used and in an even more erratic fashion than before.
What other way to make it all worthwhile than to do nothing at all? The other highlight of the week was being caught out doing exactly nothing. Standing there, looking blankly at boxes stacked halfway up toward the rafters, the concentration broke on "What are you doing here? Nothing!" shouted from behind.
Keep it up, things are looking good for an exit.
In which the ability to return with reply is rendered ill-fitting and mistimed with insomnia taking over the purple. A week passed and the feeling remains.
Two faults lined up the plan for a dismissal. One was that the head of the factory, the man who signed the cheques, was not even in the country. Secondly, the other worker there was nowhere to be seen, severely cutting the numbers short. Major hinderance. Turning up at least a half hour late didn't make much of a dent. At least his absence made for a less tense atmosphere for all concerned, especially in those there longer.
No light at the end of the dusty warehoused tunnel. One faint glimmer of difference offered itself in the form of a brand new mountain bike. Kicking the back of the agency that led toward this abismal fate, money presented to their pockets on each brain dead assignment rostered with a body. Shocked by the fact that the offer of a free mobile was turned down, they certainly weren't counting to deliver the bike demanded in a most hushed aside.
Breaking off from the commute for the day, the office was still working and the remaining stared fixedly as it was wheeled out with a pin-head helmet dangling from the bars.
Contracts and agreements were passed and signed. On loan, ownership will only pass fully after the thirteenth week. Resignation or a hopeful sacking earlier than that returns the bike to their care, definitely no longer brand new.
The misery will be theirs if timed just right.
Eliza Dushku was crazy the last time she was on television, or at least committed somewhere out of the way of the writer's focus in Angel.
First thing to snap connections with series of old was the flash of Early Edition and a little of Seven Days. More than that though, was just how Tru Davies gets around from one dead or endangered person to another. There was no hint of mutant genes or even of a bionic upgrade, but her running seems to be pretty fast and used a whole lot more than a bike would be.
Why she would go around telling people they're going to die was funny as was the immediate acceptance of her gift. Staying tuned.
Plans to walk home with a hessian bag at the end of week one were met with a dull thud of absence. Late starts every day of at least an hour, and two on the first, were met with not a single visible scowl. Nobody at the warehouse cared much for the fact that hours were lost taking a leisurely attitude toward the position. A position with more dust and heavy lifting than first envisioned.
A bicycle was the carrot in this stick of an excursion and the distance stretched from one week to the middle of the second. Conditions kept being altered and now the ownership would only be certain after the pain of three months had passed withered in painful labour.
Money in an unmarked envelope touched off a discrepancy signaled by the fact that another poor soul working there is being paid two whole dollars less. And he's paying the job respect and not even attempting to bring them to their knees through miscounts, orders rendered false and bad attitude!
Escape through incompetency will be an extremely trying challenge.
Time spent catching up with the guys at the Comic Shop shouldn't really have happened. Sure, cordiality was in order and a time piece for chatter was mentioned, but clouds were burnt overcast and legs were rendered weak from constant power lifting of boxes averaging twenty kilograms. One third off was passed and the light sprinkle should have signaled a block powered sprint home. Alas, the rain pushed down hard and fast with a mere two-thirds left to walk. Quick shifting put the comics just bought under the covers of a few sweaters. Dry as they were, the sweat was pooling and started taking them from the inside while the slow creeping seep tried to enter from out.
Stepping across the threshold, the clothes, shoes and backpack were utter soaked. A rather mighty haul, lay overs from missing at least a week, smelt okay to the touch. With the final ever issue of Bone, the first ever of Astonishing X-Men and a landmark fiftieth of 100 Bullets thrown in the mix, the worst was taken by MK Spider-Man. Covered in slightly warped feelings it was the worst of what could have been and a lesson in knowing when to bolt with dark skies looming.
Now, more than likely an event for the local newspapers, the crew at the compound were scheduled to meet some representative from the Peruvian consulate. What bit more than anything after the start of the horrendous fact of being bound to a place of full-time occupation, was that the free feast of food for the event was being unchallenged. More pain than heavy lifting and that the time away from the comics and writing mad scrawlings has grown exponentially.
Of all the things to shatter a wonderfully peaceful morning, the news of a lock. No longer will the late starts be allowed in the wake of a preoccupied manner. Due to some unforeseen mishap, the man at the interview yesterday took a liking and wants to begin the soul destroying effort of employment next week. Too long has the running been done to want to succumb to such a painful misery. With enough absent effort, a firing could be in the can by the end of the first day. Racial discrimination was no doubt in full effect.
Taken against the will of the day, and forced to sustain a composure undisturbed, another shipping toward a god awful place. This time, in the middle of nowhere. A place industrial with no sense of direction or easy access to public transport. With two other people in the room, a hard time was had trying to throw the interview. The will is gone but a breach looms pending.
Back again at the comfort of the next day. Word at the compound was that a Peruvian man is to visit next week. A show of thanks for the 200 units sitting there in the warehouse waiting for him. Waiting for him to ship them off to where the consulate was spawned from.
Related to that, a massive influx of metal led to the slowing down of production. With the churning of newly refurbished computers, the people are left with no room to move. What was requested, in not so many waving hands, was to continue playing chess on a newly discovered working laptop. Continued.
Sadly, in a fit of watering nuisance, a trip was taken like cattle to a university. Along with three slender and primped girls, the intentions weren't clear and the interview set up for the day was far from certain. This, an exercise in pain itself, was to endure the man across the table reading his notes filling in a form with verbal prompts. The three girls bolted soon as they were done leaving nothing but cold and a frightful scenario. A possible five a.m. start on a casual basis with no solid lock until the end of June. Hopefully all goes badly.
