So yeah, I got fired from my job today because of you, rat bastard internet, for giving me the forum to vent, rave, tell stories, lay my shit out, share my feelings because heaven forbid, someone might get offended. But! I still love you and have no regrets because I just don’t. I’m too old to be compliant and that job had a shelf life, let’s not kid ourselves. The last shift before I was sent to the
principal’s office manager for some protocol fuckery, I got into a staring contest with a can of white base Glidden paint and it won. It said: “I got you, bitch” and I was actually truly terrified for a few moments. I can’t be slinging paint forever! My knees will give out and my hands are wretched and I have a callous the size of a plum tomato on my pinky toe. What is my game plan? Existential angst times infinity, hookers, that is what I felt at that moment until I gave into popping another Fishermen’s Friend into my mouth. I had a lozenge salad on the counter at work that is comprised of Fishermen’s Friend, Halls, and Werthers. I was totally trying to go cold turkey on those things but I have an addiction, sir, and they make me feel alive and ready to pipe up and say the shit I gotta say.
That very same day my fate was sealed and I didn’t even know it. This blog is like just my dog, they both give me great comfort but they are both such assholes. I can’t take my dog for a walk without major embarrassment with her pulling at the leash and barking randomly like a crazy bitch and this blog does exactly the same thing. But I love them both so very much! And at night when my dog is asleep, she curls on my feet and makes sweet snoring sounds. So peaceful and serene. And I figure my blog, when it sleeps at night, does the same thing that Sandra Bullock is doing in that still from the movie “Gravity,” kind of just hovers and floats out in space. Maybe somebody notices and reads it because they just clicked on a link to “Kate Upton’s tits.” It’s so random, but they are my words and they are out there, floating and snoring out in the blogoshpere.
During my “suspension” aka pre-firing holiday weekend, I went to see “Gravity” at the Scotiabank Theatre downtown. I have to say, no one is less impressed at a 3-D cinematic experience more than me, kids. I have an astigmatism in my left eye so I am convinced the extra money is not worth it for my impaired vision. I can’t see peripherally and the the little zings of debris that pop out of the screen are too few and far between to make this a worthwhile, just saying, soooooo not worth the money, $18 and $20 for parking, that is just crazy town. You could totally get away with Netflixing this on your laptop. Yes I am getting old because I avoid the theatre but I don’t care.
What an amazing, awesome, disturbing, inspiring movie though, 3-D glasses aside. Fear, anxiety, nausea, and dread and then some bravery all rolled into 90 minutes of nail-biting. I think everyone needs to see this movie when they are faced with the unknown. I know, it’s all relative, Sandra Bullock is floating precariously in motherfucking space, sucking up all the oxygen in her helmut and I am in the manager’s office, sucking on my very last Fisherman’s Friend, at that home improvement box store that will remain nameless, being terminated. She wins at fear factor but both of us need the spirit guide of George Clooney, some vodka, and a couple of parachutes.
Actually being fired was so strange and surreal that I wrote a poem about it, gather round, kids:
Waiting my fate
He is more than an hour an a half late
Did he say 9 or 10?
It’s 10:30 now, wtf?
I’m sure he said 9
He’s forgotten all about me which means everything will be fine
Wow, it’s almost 11
Maybe I should come back later, nothing rhymes with 11, yo I’m just going to go downstairs
Oh, there he is
Manager boss turning the corner with his Tim Hortons coffee cup in tow
His omnipresent rueful smile
Says he means business
He looks nothing like George Clooney
But a little Tom Hanks, kind of, but with lighter hair
Would not hit it, just saying
I stopped rhyming fyi because things are getting real
My mouth is dry and my hands are shaking
For some reason I am carrying a blank piece of paper
What for again?
Oh yes! So I could write a note
Saying I was here at 9
And you weren’t and it’s 11 and I’m going to go home but will come later like everything is N*O*R*M*A*L
He says (get this):
WAIT HERE FIVE MINUTES I NEED TO GET MYSELF IN ORDER
And now that I am writing this poem, I think:
WELL PLAYED, SLY, CONTROLLING, PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE DOUCHEBAG
Except my fate is in his hands and at the time I’m thinking:
FUCKING ASSHOLE I’VE BEEN WAITING TWO HOURS, SERIOUSLY?
Five minutes later, I have somehow accumulated some saliva
And grown some phantom testicles
That carry me up the stairs
To his office
Where he states my fate
I wish I was a better poet, maybe something to work on during my down time. Anyway, being fired is not a great feeling and being fired for a bullshit vague reason is even more perplexing but in the end, I don’t really care all that much because as I said, it was a job with a shelf life and a launching pad for other endeavours. Yes, that is how I roll with the punches, don’t look back, ho! I hate the expression “everything happens for a reason,” in this case, it’s probably true that I created my own fate. So there’s that to suck on. I’m really gonna miss my job, I cannot lie. I cried in his office and if it wasn’t for the graciousness of another manager, I may have left bitter and angry. I’m going to miss my co-workers and the little games we played to make the day more amusing. This was the good clean one called Word of the Day: Pick an odd random word like “horse” and the challenge is that by the end of your shift, you had to use that word to a customer in conversation. You need to bring it up with gracefully like; “Oh, this mahogany coloured stain you chose is the exact shade like of hide of the HORSE I had when I was an adolescent girl. Oh how I love to ride him, his name was Tyrell.” Hilarity will ensue, I promise, if you are five minutes shy of your shift ending and you haven’t said the WOD yet, literally, you will just look at a customer and say “horse,” “lizard,” or “snowflake” for no reason whatsoever and they will look at you like you are a crazy mofo. GOOD TIMES!
“You made the department fun and everyone loved working with you,” is what she said, “whatever you do, you will be great.” Which were kind and comforting words that made me feel a little less afraid when I walked out the door …She is my George Clooney…I need a find new space station…
As I left the dust and the smell of lumber behind me, I realized fuck yeah, I got my mojo back and no one can take that away. So there’s that.