[LOBO]
There are a lot of drawbacks to warring with the Fat Man; the rescue took several days of blurry high adventure, furious car chases, international espionage, naked chicks, fallen political figures, mustard stains, explosions, intrigue ...
... all infinitely boring, bland, and completely unblogable.
Plus I hadda explain it all to my boss.
Now, this new boss has heard of me an Dash’s little “circumstance”, so he tends to humor me. But when I explained that I missed work ‘cuz I was fighting Santa, Alien Zombies, Elven Ninjas, and the Superintelligent Giant Squid with only a hot android after commandeering an intergalactic starship, his incredulousness was palpable despite his valiant efforts.
Give that guy an Emmy.
An then I find out that in my absence, my band Mythic Priapism has split up. Seems I missed the signing party with RKO Records, the guys who were going to put out our album ‘Jaws of Death’ --a collection of William Shatner cover tunes done to an orchestra of bagpipes (and maybe some occasional flatulence)— so the whole studio was a crime scene. Having taken offense, the first-string achapello singers boldly sang in A minor instead of C, inciting the entire violin section to revolt in a fiery bloodbath of purfling-laden death.
Plus this chick I’m seeing totally freaked out while I was gone for no reason. (By “seeing” I mean watchin her through these binoculars and following her to and from work and malls and doctor appointments and basically anywhere her preacher husband wasn’t. Or anyplace excluded in the TRO I got administrated yesterday while I was in the tree looking down in her window.) What a fuckin bitch.
Spooked by all these crazy people acting weird, I decide to drive to this job interview. It’s an hour and a half away, and in a major city. The “interview” is at 8:00 am.
To avoid the traffic, I get there at six.
Two hours of driving and the “Banquet Hall” isn’t open yet.
So for like three-and-a-half hours, I can’t piss.
Cap'n Crew-Cut shows up early and hits the ground runnin … he’s obviously an ex cop; there with 48 other “applicants”, he an his buddy were running the show with great authority.
The “Banquet Hall” had no coffee, not even water.
The faded itinerary handout says we’re scheduled for a break at 10:15. Over two hours away.
He doesn’t introduce himself, he just goes right into his “pitch”. Without even a microphone, Cap'n Crew-Cut goes into the "anyone there not taking the process seriously need never apply again" speech.
It annoys him to waste the time of other applicants.
He says they’re going to set up a nail test. Not a piss test, or a hair test, a nail test. Reputedly infallible within 90 days. Now, I watch a lot of Forensic Files and Unsolved Mysteries … the last thing I want is my DNA bein foisted all over Creation ta every asshole that requests it; it might prove that I’m linked to those two hot twins I blogged about killin, before. Right?
So it's 9:15 now, and I gotta pee … I'm still over and hour out from the break. Plus I gotta superglue on the $850 fingernails from that Guatemalan Viceroy Ethan sold me. I slip out the back quietly and respectfully, not distracting anyone from the speaker. And well rehearsed, I'm gone for like 90 seconds.
I get back to the “Orientation”, and a guy intercepts me before I can open the door to the "Banquet Hall", extending my driver’s license and application back to me.
“We won’t be considering your application today,” he says. The condescending fuck doesn’t even look at me as he hands me my shit.
This is a company that places within the top ten of Forbe's List.
… And I wouldn’t be allowed to pee?
