Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
--
I think my throat is going to have to come out. It’s all sore and
inflamed this morning, and I’m afraid the doctors will want to remove
it.My entire throat.Is that irrational?
I felt fine yesterday, until the evening. I went over to my old office
and finally mailed back my computer and crap, then came home and got
dressed-up in fancy pants and went to a “job fair” at a company
nearby. We had dinner at Applebee’s (which I’ll tell you about in a
few minutes), and during all this I felt completely normal.
Then, suddenly, I was sick. There was no discernible transition period;
I was good, then bad.Just like
that.
It happened as we were preparing to watch LOST.What did that guy on The Office say?“I’m
going home tonight and getting my beer on, getting my LOST on…”Heh.That’s exactly when it happened, when I was preparing to get
both those things on.
And now my throat feels like it’s just lousy with disease. I sure hope
they don’t have to carve it out.
-- I don’t have much faith in so-called job fairs, but the one I
attended yesterday was hosted by a company I’m really interested in.So I gave it a shot.
Most of the positions they’re trying to fill are for general labor,
but their website said they have a few management jobs open as well.And I figured if I hand-delivered a resume, instead of just
hitting the SEND button while wearing humongous hamburger pants, it
might do some good.
I followed the computer-generated signs with arrows on them, to a room
way down at the end of a hall.As
I walked I passed several offices with people inside. Working.They all have jobs, and I do not…. And that’s how my brain
sees things at this point.
Inside the room was a big U-shaped table, and about ten people were
seated there, apparently filling out applications.Most looked pretty normal, but a couple of them were wearing
baseball caps, three or four gigantic t-shirts, and gold chains around
their necks.
Call me a crotchety old fart if you want, but I wouldn’t even waste my
time talking to guys like that. If I was given the responsibility of
hiring a dozen workers, or whatever, and someone waltzed in with a
Yankees cap balanced on top of
his head, and making all sorts of rapper gesticulations, he’d be out
of the running before he even opened his mouth.
And that’s what it was, too: balanced.The cap wasn’t pulled down, it was just sitting up there all
tall and slightly askew.I
don’t know how it didn’t fall off.And
here’s the clincher: it wasn’t even a real Yankees cap; it was white
with a pink logo. I mean seriously….
The
law says you can’t discriminate because of race, religion, sex, etc.And I completely agree with that.But there’s nothing on the books (yet) about assholes and the
practitioners of high-douchery. Right?Shit
man, at the very least pull on a polo shirt.This is a job interview, not “Bitches Night” at Club Metro.
Anyway,
I was taken to a separate room, for reasons unknown, and spoke with a
person there for about ten minutes.He was really nice, and asked me some questions and told me a few
things about the company.He
barely glanced at my resume, but said someone would contact me if they
wanted me to come in for a formal discussion.And that was that.
Right before I left he called me back, tapped his chin in deep thought,
and said, “I don’t know your situation.But would you ever consider moving to Houston?”I told him I’m not ruling anything out, and he said, “Thanks
for coming in.”
What the?!
--We don’t eat at
Applebee’s very often.I
don’t know why, but of all those types of chain restaurants, we visit
Applebee’s the least.I’ve
got nothing against the place, really, I just never think about it.Ya know?
But last night Toney suggested we go there, and I shrugged and said it
was fine with me.
We were seated in a corner booth, and the place was pretty crowded.A woman who seemed almost giddy appeared at our table without
delay, told us about the “specials,” and took our drink order.She was just so freakin’ happy about everything.
I started looking at the menu, but was having a hard time concentrating
because the oldest Secret never stops talking (never!), and there was a
stereo speaker right above our heads, blasting classic rock.As I attempted to make my selection I was also paying attention
to a recap of that day’s Mythbusters,
and trying to ignore a blaring song by Canned Heat, or some such crapola,
that was boring a hole straight though my brain stem.
It seemed that every item they offer at that place contains at least one
ingredient that disqualifies it.Stuff
like garlic and mushrooms and chutney(?!) and any of the novelty
mayonnaises.I felt a tiny
twinge of panic as I realized time was running out.The shiny happy waitress would be there soon, smiling like a
retard and eager to take our orders.
And you don’t send a waitress away during that delicate part of the
process, because
they’ll stay gone for a loooong
time.Trust me, I know about
these things.
The oldest Secret was telling me about a dummy that was hurled out of an
airplane, or whatever, and Aerosmith was now rocking, and everything had
the words Portobello or pesto attached to it….I was
beginning to run my hands through my hair.
Then the cell phones started ringing, and people began having really
loud conversations into them about delivery confirmations and decorative
gravel and shower gel.Mountain
came on after Aerosmith, and a couple near us, I shit you not, pulled
out a portable DVD player and put it on the table in front of their
toddler.Then they proceeded
to turn on Dora the Explorer,
at full living room volume.
Backpack backpackBackpack
backpack Mississippi Queen
if you know what I mean and the head came completely off the dummy and
one arm too I always liked the apricot gel but whatever is
fine....
It was incredible.I thought
I would surely have a nervous breakdown, right there in the corner booth
of an Applebee’s. I seriously wondered if we were being Punk’d.
I ordered last, so I could have a few extra seconds, and finally went
with the chicken fajita wrap.It
featured some kind of questionable spread, called MexiRanch or
something, but I asked her to leave that crap off.I didn’t like the sounds of that, not one tiny bit.
The volume never eased up.It
was like eating dinner on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange.The good news?That
chicken wrap was quite good.
And you’re all caught up, my friends.I’m going to start doing Google searches now, for prosthetic
throats.Have a great
weekend.
