You Know that Booth That Lucy Would Set Up in "Peanuts" Comics?

I have been bummed out ever since accepting that job. I haven't even started yet. My "testing" is on Thursday. If you've ever worked at a call center, you know that "testing" means ensuring that you are not retarded in any of the major areas required for such work -- intelligently, emotionally, or socially. Depending upon the company's desperation, they may waive that requirement in lieu of decent typing skills. That's what began to occur at my previous job (another call center). The people they brought in got me wondering how I had messed up my life this badly.

Megan, why did you take the job, then? You're just going to be pissed off and self-righteous all the time. Why not, you know, try to do something you like?

Because I don't know what I like, bastard voice of logic. I only know what I don't like. I don't like working at a call center. I don't like serving food. I don't like cleaning up after people and/or animals. I don't like university. I don't like writing within a deadline. I don't like wearing clothes that make me feel as though I'm a circus bear. I don't like all of the things that mean successful inclusion in society. Is it laziness? Fear? Narcissism? Maybe. Probably. Probably not. Who knows. Not me. I never lost control.

What's most amusing about this is that I'm not even looking for some high-paying job chocked full of recognition and status. I just want to do something that I like; that challenges me; that allows me to live with my cats and cable. Is that the problem? Is that my failing? Lack of real ambition?

You can't fail if you have no ambition. Mmm... safe...

I'm trying to put myself into the mindset I had when I started at that other call center (Comcourse) in 2005. At that time, I needed a job because I wanted to help out my friend Az -- get an apartment so that she wouldn't have to live at home, but continue going to school. There was a purpose. There is a purpose now, of course (I like to eat and be inside), but the purpose is entirely about myself, now. Maybe that's the problem. I was very open to Comcourse and to the entire process of becoming acclimated to a new work environment. My mantra was, "All I am obligated to do is try; the rest is outside of my control." And I believed it. I was emboldened by it. (I apologize for using the world "emboldened". Bush and his cronies have destroyed it, but I cannot come up with a more fitting word.)

But now? Lord. All I see is a hassle, not a means to an end. Remember this? Yeah, there's nothing like being bald and fat and starting a new job. A smooth transition is assured.

I have decided to name this new call center VentureSystems (because, unless two words are crammed together somehow, it's not a real call center). I will abbreviate it as VSYS (pronounced vee-sis). That way, I can refer to myself as a VSYS monkey. Then hilarity will ensue.

Here is something about VSYS that should be comforting, maybe, but is not, sort of: Gob works there. I've discussed Gob a lot. I dream about Gob a lot. He was the person I spent the most time with at Comcourse -- eight hours a day, four days a week, for a year. And then he was fired and all contact stopped. Which pissed me off, but also caused me concern. And I'm the sort for whom concern trumps all feelings, even the feelings of exploitation and convenience that came with knowing Gob. Word has it, he got hardcore into cocaine again and started using steroids. Awesome.

I miss Gob dearly. He really made my time at Comcourse much more tolerable and it's not a coincidence that I was fired for misconduct shortly after his departure. But, goddamn, I do not want to know a coked-out, steroid-driven version of Gob. I'm certain that just seeing him again will break my heart.

I don't even know why I like the guy. He's kind of a bastard and he owes me money. But there's something about him that I connect with. He reminds me of my brother a little -- Sunshine Boy is also an exploitative weak bastard. Maybe that's it. Maybe I just constantly need a reason to do anything -- to get up and go to work -- and, after Az was able to pay for the apartment on her own and I moved out, Gob became that reason. I became useful again.

If I could apply that neurosis to a function that earns money, I would be set for life.