Loud Typer is at it again. Banging away on his keys; thump, thump-thump, thump-thump-thump-thump, donk, donk-donk, chon, donk, chon-chon, thump, chonk. Click. Double-click. Thunk. (pause) THUNK. God help me.
I fondly remember the evening when I assed his keyboard. Yes, that’s right, I assed it. If you are an avid watcher of Seinfeld (my all-time favorite show), you may remember the episode where Elaine rubs her co-worker’s keyboard on her backside just to piss her off after a hilarious confrontation regarding germs and Elaine’s love life. One afternoon, Loud Typer angered me by sending me a message saying that he’d found an article about PCBs and how freezing/heating plastic does not leach them into your food or pose a health hazard (there was a reason he sent this to me, but I won’t go into that now… his attempt to win an argument, basically). He took the time to look on Snopes.com and copied it to my supervisor and boss, as well. So after he left work that evening (yeah I know, I should’ve done it right in his face the Seinfeld way), I rubbed his keyboard on the backside of my jeans like I had the itch of the century. I had the itch all right. The itch of revenge.
I am not sure how much longer my sanity will hold out. Every time I say that, it feels like the very end. When the thought of walking out this door and never coming back makes me salivate, I know that I’m in trouble. When I feel like gripping the sides of my manager’s soccer ball head and asking him in the loudest voice possible why he doesn’t seem to give a damn about me or give me anything to do, I know that I need help. When I would rather venture out to the warehouse and hold meaningless conversations with the grungy, stinky workers who cannot make eye contact with me longer than three seconds without dropping their gaze down to my breasts and lower body, than sit at my desk trying to keep busy, I know that it is time for change. The problem, however, is my desire to make a change. Or lack thereof.
I recently received an e-mail from a good friend of mine, my Alaskan friend Pam, with whom I spent the best semester of college ever back in the fall of 2000. We were like two peas in a pod and knew each other inside and out. We were on the same wavelength and could read each other’s minds. It was truly magical. About six months ago, I told her that I’d wanted a new job and wanted a better life in general. A few days ago she asked me if I’d been looking for a new job and if my apartment lease had expired yet. Oh.
Why yes, my apartment lease did expire and I renewed it, but because I’ve been a resident at the same address for over 24 months, I am now free to leave upon giving a 30-day notice. This is one area of life that I am not “stuck” in. Hmm…. I really should keep this information ripe in my thoughts.
I did look for a new job back in July. I sent a few resumes out but received no replies. I haven’t felt like looking since, because I keep telling myself that I don’t have enough relevant experience to merit a better job. But something inside tells me that this simply can’t be true in every case.
