Here Is Something You Can't Understand...

How bad was it today? How bad did it go today?

If it went worse, I'd have to be fined $160 and cockblocked from meeting Eliza Dushku.

THAT. BAD.

So horrible before I could reach for "Serve The Servants", Renegades, and the Marshall Mathers, the first lyrics in my head were Linkin Park and Limp Bizkit.

THAT.

BAD.

Now, an hour by hour breakdown of this fucking shit.

Oh, I should add in the kicker: running to catch the bus after getting up at 4:45 (sadly, that's something like sleeping in), I inadvertently swallowed some mouthwash, giving me a headache persisting to this update. AND I'm getting a cold.

7:00 am: 2 sanctimonious assholes. (Sanctimonious assholes, for the sake of this particular convo, will be like the people I described with such affection yesterday.)

8:00 am: 1 sanctimonious, balanced by four hot CILF's. (Replace Churchies where Mothers goes. One looked like Jessica Alba and was wearing this white dress--really something. Yet too angry to obsess. THAT. Angry.)

9:00-10:33: Waking sleep.

10:34 am: Wonder if that's all there is.

10:35-11:45: Escort crying, mildly hysterical woman to elevator. Find out mildly hysterical woman is fucking crazy, and is suffering a repeat of a panic attack from last night. Will freak out if the cops are called and wants to get to County Medical Health, which may or may not be open. Spend hour making sure she doesn't hurt herself or others before she's released. And, of course, in the next five minutes after...sanctimonious asshole. Actually, a family of four who jumped the stiles to a closed escaltor instead of walking 20 feet to the working ones. Way to be Christian. And not the good Intercontinental Champion one either.

Noon: Lunch! Hooray lunch! New schedule! FUCK YOU new schedule!

Saturday, 6th--8 am, 1 pm
Sunday, 7th, Opening Day--8 am, 5 pm
Monday, 8th, 6 am, 2:30 pm
Tuesday, 9th, Monday again

This means I'm working 70% of the next 10 days. That number should be worse, because one of those days is Labor Day and the other is the day after; essentially, I have Thursday off for the next week and a half, gettting up early every single fucking day, and of course, missing football. And five straight days, too. What was my point? Oh, yes: FUCK YOU new schedule!

1 pm: Now shit really hits the fan. Seriously. The first session/sermon/whatever started at 8, is supposed to end back at noon. Only he's busy healing the sick and blinding the guilty or something because before 1:05 even hits, about 3,000 Bible thumpers stream out of the ballroom in front of me and hit the escalators. Mild traffic problems for a while due to the density, but it flows pretty well. Wish I could've made it easier, but people are busy talking to each other and being lazy and taking the closest and so on. And I'm thinking "well, they've screwed me out of my second break for the second straight day", and I go to see if I can catch the scheduler before she ducks out to give her a piece of my mind and to see what's going on session-wise. Gone. There was supposed to be a new one at 1:30 but it's practically that now, and if I can find out if it's been moved to 2:30, 3, 4, or cancelled, while I don't care will help people out, which is what I do. I go in to use the phone and ask someone, but before I do Alicia's calling me. This makes no sense, Jeff is breaking me. She says I'm where you're supposed to be, where are you? I say I'm in the ballroom and will be out in five seconds. Get there. She gives me a little speech about how I'm supposed to be superglued to the spot and I pretty much blow it off because if I can go 40 more minutes without slapping someone I'll be free for a few hours. [Addendum: didn't think I was getting a second break due to the lateness of the shift, and having a 15-minute break with 40 minutes left in your shift is so far beyond ridiculous....] Get back to base. One of the supervisors wants to see me, and I haven't seen him probably all month.

Why wasn't I where I was supposed to be?

Alicia, who is 60 and the World's Greatest Drama Queen, who uses most of her time to socialize, who flipped out at the National University tickettaking and left me running it at all of ELEVEN DAYS EMPLOYMENT, has fucking narced me for being five seconds away and doing my job.

There are no words. Plenty of expletives. Visions of me jamming her arthritic knee into her skull so hard the last thing she tastes is her own prune urine and her last action is her shitting herself before a grand mal seizure followed by me kicking the corppse and yelling "WHERE ARE YOU? WHERE ARE YOU?" for a half hour dance through my head as I explain the following to my boss:

--the lateness of the first sermon affecting the possibility of the second
--the wedding BEHIND the holy shit that's going on in a few hours that's being setup, with wedding people and setup guys running around
--the fact that 10 different parishoners went out on the Terrace to see Coronado and managed to lock themselves out yesterday, and I know because I had to let 8 of them back in

So I get some sturm und drang about how it's good I'm proactive (BUZZWORD!) and looking ahead but me being "out of position" was going to get me a verbal warning. To quote Sonny Liston, I never expected to be treated like no hero but I damn sure didn't expect to get treated like no damn sewer rat. Did I mention this is happening for half of my pissant way-too-late break? Yes?

I get back and somehow don't throttle her ass, and get by the last 20 minutes. So now, I'm going to finish up looking through Delphi, then since the sleep-in-until-11-go-to-LA family is gone I'm going to the store and buy a Heineken and watch 8 Mile. And if that doesn't do it, I'm moving onto Animal House.

Fuck.