You Never Call, You Never Write

Hey folks and folk dancers.

I'm sitting here in a booze-smelling library study room, not wanting to do work while, apparently, Michael sits across from me working on his thesis. He could be totally lying as I am the one with the monitor facing the big voyeuresque glass window facing into the library, but I suppose I'll give him the benefit of the doubt.

The library makes me angry, like a bear when he can't catch any fish. I assume that would make a bear angry; it definitely would make me angry. Michael and I came into the library to find a lot of high school students just loitering around in their baggy jerseys and skin-tight skank-tops, as teenage boys and girls dress respectively, although I'm sure fashion trends will change in the next twenty years to reverse that. (Can't wait.) They were talking loudly in the computer commons, until this rent-a-cop in a bright yellow jacket motioned from across the room for them to get out. I love how they know who the teenagers are, and I love that the teenagers know that the rent-a-cops know that they are teenagers, as they always have their eyes peeled for rent-a-cops.

We proceeded to the fourth floor to find a study room. Normally they're all full (during the school year), but since it's the summer and is late at night, we just thought they'd all be empty and available. Empty, yes. Available, yes. Locked, yes. I ran downstairs to sign one out:

Me: Hi. I'd like to sign out a study room. *holds out student card*
Library Girl: Sure! Do you have your student card? *smiles WAY too much*
*looks down* Yes.
Great! *takes card*
Oh, I'll need that for more than one person.
*frown* Well, how many?
*question-mark face* Just me and one other person.
*bigger frown* Well I need to see this person.
*angerrr..* Oh, he's just upstairs.
*giant smile* I'm sorry. I need to see him. *hands card back*
*shock* Oh. Um. Well that's silly.

So then I walked all the way up to the fourth floor, got Michael and all of our stuff, trekked all the way downstairs so that the girl could take just my card and give us a room. Lovely.

I wrote my Grandpa a letter today. I would just call him, but I have no clue in hell what I would say. He's one of those people I greatly respect and admire, but really don't have much in common socially, so it's very difficult to talk to him. I figure he will enjoy receiving a letter (I know I would). I want to start writing people letters more often. Email is fine most of the time, but written letters are so fun to get and correspond with. MSN and all that crap is just too convenient. I've noticed a lot of people haven't contacted me since I got rid of the convenience modules, but I have been getting more emails than I ever did before, so thanks to the people who have been emailing. Makes my li'l ol' day.

I was reading a couple old posts of different people and I have to say that Liz's Blog has gotten so much better. I hope some day we can actually meet because the way she writes presents her as this aware, hilarious person. Maybe that's too much to live up to? Oh well - she can do it. I don't even know if she reads this anymore. Fingers crossed?

One more little story and then I'm done for the day.

I had a second interview at a call centre today. The first was an open interview on Saturday where they put me through a bunch of computer tests. I aced them like a... an ace of spades? For instance, I did a typing test and did 73 words per minute. Ya. I rock. My second interview today consisted of:

Arriving at 9am, right on time, after a 35 minute bus ride.

Waiting at the front desk while a woman (who obviously worked there) argued with the receptionist about where to put her gigantic, muddy bike.

Being taken into the HR room to sit for twenty minutes, reading the Newfoundland Herald. (For those of you who have not heard of this glorious publication, it's Newfoundland's ridiculous attempt at an entertainment magazine. It had three pages on a returning butterfly. Yeah, baby.)

Being taken into the computer rooms to take computer tests. The same tests I took on Saturday.

Being taken back to the HR room once they realized this.

Being taken into the office of the interviewer, Bridget, who was over fifty, had a lisp, and dressed like a homely turnip farmer.

Being asked about my lack of availability due to my day job. Being asked to quit my day job and drop my university course in order to be "completely flexible".

Leaving, quite disgustedly.

So, needless to say, I will not be a call centre bitch. Ever. Bridget, seeing my most-likely impressive computer scores, tried to get me to consider applying in July for other positions, but followed that up by saying I could work the night shift during the school-year. Uh huh. I'll get right on that.

No reason: slugs!

--Jam