I came along, and wrote a song for you

He was sweaty. He was shaking. And he kept staring at me from under the hood of his sweatshirt.

I'm speaking of the skinny, unshaven white guy in the lobby of the drug testing facility the station had me visit Thursday. I guess he was there for a test, too. I had my doubts about his results.

I, on the other hand, have little doubt that my test will come back clean. I smoked a little during my community college days, but transferring to a real university carried with it a new attitude. It was time to get serious. I'm quite sure that now, a couple of years later, the chemical content of my urine is within acceptable parameters.

So why did I feel guilty?

It's just a drug test for a new employer. I haven't done anything wrong. But just going in there makes me feel like I'm under suspicion. It's not like I'm shivering in a cold sweat while I give the sober people in the lobby the evil eye.

"Max, come on back."

Beverly, the fat redneck piss technician, led me to another room and handed me the cup. Beverly wasn't in a good mood. She seemed like the kind of person who was never in a good mood. If I had hair that bad and a job smelling piss all day, I'd be upset also.

"You have to fill up to this line," she said, pointing. The cup had a little thermometer on the side of it. "That will tell me if it's really yours," she said, when she saw me looking at it. "If it's too cold I'll know you cheated."

She opened the door to a tiny restroom. "DO NOT close the door. DO NOT flush. DO NOT wash your hands. You do any of that and you'll have to do it all over. And I won't be happy about that."

Yeesh, like I want to be here any longer than I have to. So I contributed the proper sample and got the hell out of there.

As she was showing me out the door, she called the guy wearing the hood. "Barry, you think you're ready to try again?" Those feelings of smug superiority I had previously directed toward Barry gave way to sympathy. No wonder he was in such bad shape. He apparently had made Beverly unhappy.

I'm Here!

Well, the trip was mostly uneventful. Just long. I didn't get in until late last night, so I'm really only seeing this town for the first time by this morning's light. My first impression? From what I see, it appears to be a combination of run down areas and new sprawl, like so many other cities or towns around the country. Right now my primary interest is coffee, so I'll have to expand on the rest later.

I'm lucky that this motel has a "business center" off the side of the lobby with computers and free Internet access. Thus I'll be able to check in here during the week until I find a place to live.

Kat came by Sunday night after she got back to town. If you've been reading, you can probably imagine the questions on my mind. Yet she acted as though nothing whatsoever had happened, and it seemed too awkward for me to bring it up. So I didn't.

On the other hand, she didn't mention Joe at all, nor was there any discussion of her dating him. I don't know what the hell that was all about. I guess it doesn't matter now, because that's 800 miles behind me.

I have to hit the ground running, so the agenda today involves apartment hunting. I'm going to look around this afternoon and get an idea of the areas of town. I mentioned earlier that I had been emailed by someone from the station who needed a roommate; I'm supposed to meet with her and her other roommates (I would make number four in the house) this evening.

And now... COFFEE!

Blech.

I'd just like to say:

Packing sucks.

Where did all this stuff come from? How did it get here? I don't have any money, so when did I buy it? Why did I buy it?

Why in the hell do I have a waffle iron? I've never made waffles.

Why was I keeping this broken CD player?

What ever made me think this stuff in the closet back here was art? Why am I still reluctant to throw it away?

Why do I have an outdated Mole Richardson lighting catalog?

Why am I keeping my notebooks from college? Why do I still have any of my textbooks?

Why do I have an Indigo Girls CD? Did I ever really like them?

Should I throw out the porn? Naah.

What should I do with this parking meter? How did I end up with a parking meter? I think it has change in it!

All this crap has to fit into a U-Haul trailer? What the hell was I thinking?

Last Day!

It's finally here. My last day at the bookstore.

I thought people were supposed to be sad when they left a job, but I'm really happy about it. I can't wait to not have to deal with customers' stupid questions and complaints. I won't miss the literature nerds who expect me to know every obscure author (or simply pick obscure authors to try to make themselves sound smarter). Even with the more well-known writers, there are always those who want to discuss authors' works with me while I'm trying to work. "Did you know that Vonnegut got his start writing science fiction for magazines?" Sure I did. But I really don't care. And I'm not impressed that you knew that.

I also don't care about your fad diet. I'm sorry Atkins didn't work for you. No, I don't know if the Zone is any better. No, I don't know if the Biblical diet is really based on scripture (What Would Jesus Eat?). Yes, we have the caveman diet book; it tells you to hunt squirrels in your back yard with a stick and eat them raw.

I sure as hell won't miss having to chase stinking homeless people out of our restrooms. Why choose a bookstore as a place to bathe in the sink? You're scaring the children. Get out.

Speaking of children, the childrens' reading events have to be the most horrible torture ever devised for book clerks. Look, they're three and four years old. They aren't going to pay attention to these boring stories written by new age parenting experts that are supposed to teach them complicated life lessons. No wonder they wander off and pee on the floor somewhere.

I figure all these folks telling me to pass on this television job don't remember what it's like to work at a McJob. I'm glad to be getting the hell out.

One more day. Just one more day.

My decision

I have thought long and hard about it, and after so many people have advised me that I should run like hell from this job, I have made a decision:

Nope. I'm going to continue on as planned.

Tomorrow is my last day at the bookstore. I'm going to pack up the last of my crap on Sunday. I intend to pull out of here early Monday morning. I should be able to make the entire trip Monday.

Yes, yes, I'm probably an idiot. But I'm an idiot with a job awaiting me at a television station, and not an idiot whose immediate future includes working at a bookstore and wishing he were working in television.

I'm pretty sure that despite the previous odd conversation with the ND, I do, in fact, still have a job, because someone from human resources called me Wednesday to talk to me about the piss test. It seems that they were supposed to arrange for me to take the drug test at a facility near here before I moved. There was evidently some sort of miscommunication about that between the ND and HR, so now I'm supposed to do it there when I get into town. Thus it appears they still expect to see me there.

I'm sure people are wondering about Kat. I haven't spoken to her. She avoided me for a couple of days, and now her roommate says she left to go visit her parents. I'm not sure what to think about that, but now there's something else going on. There's another guy in our circle named Joe who apparently thinks he is dating her. He's pretty happy about it. I haven't told him that I was kissing his girlfriend a few days ago.

Otherwise, the waiting is excrutiating. My gut gets all twisty when I think about the future.

Phone Conversation

I got an interesting phone call from my new ND today.

"Hello?"

"Hi, can I speak to Max?"

"This is Max."

"Hey, Max, this is [News Director]. Um... We were just wondering when we might expect to see you today."

Silence. Confusion. Did I just screw up? No, I'm pretty sure we settled all this.

"Um, I thought we decided that I would start November first," I said.

"That wasn't MY understanding," he responded. "I was under the impression we would see you this morning. Since I hadn't heard from you in the last few days, I thought we were all set."

"No, you originally asked me if I could start this week, but remember, I said I still had to give notice at my old job and get moved. I'm still 800 miles away."

"I don't remember that. The way we left it was that you'd be here at nine o'clock this morning. Nine o'clock came and went. I figured I oughta give you a call."

"I'm pretty sure we settled on November first. I mean, there's no way I could have started this week."

"Well, what are we gonna do about this?" he asked.

"Um. I'm not sure what you mean."

"I mean, when are you going to start? I need you here ASAP. I could give you a couple more days."

What the hell? What's going on here?

"A couple more days isn't going to work. I'm working my old job through Saturday. Then I have to pack up my stuff and move--"

"So you could start Monday?" he interrupted. All right, this is just bizarre.

"No, I can't be there until November first. I don't even have a place to live yet. I'm sorry; is that really that big a problem?"

Deep sigh from the ND. Then, in an irritated tone, "Huh. I guess it can't be helped. Give us a call next week when you get to town."

"Okay, I'll--"

"Sorry, I'm busy," he interrupted. "I'll talk to you next week." Then he hung up.

The attitude this time was completely different from every other time I've talked to this guy. I really don't understand what's going on. I mean, he knows I'm not there yet, because he called my house. You know, the house 800 miles away?

I'm going to just write this off as a misunderstanding and hope this is the end of it.

Great Timing...

Back in my first post I mentioned a female friend who had pushed me to write here. Her name is Katrina, but we all call her Kat. Tonight I was hanging out with several friends, including Kat. We were all smoking and drinking and irritating the elderly lesbian couple next door with our music. I can only take so much smoke before I start to get a headache, so I had stepped outside for some air and was sitting on the front porch steps watching the dog across the street digging up something I'm sure is so repulsive to humans that he can't help but be fascinated by it.

I heard the door open behind me, and Kat came out.

"Whatcha doin'?" she asked.

"Trying to breathe," I said.

"Mind if I sit?"

"Not at all."

As if she had read my mind and knew I was almost empty, she handed me a beer. We just sat there quietly watching the dog and the occasional car passing by. It's cool out, but the crickets are still singing this time of year.

I suddenly became aware that Kat was sniffling. I glanced over at her. Her hair was down next to her face, hiding it from me, but I noticed a tear rolling down her cheek.

She seemed to become aware of my gaze and looked over at me. Suddenly she just leaned in, grabbed the back of my neck and planted one of the best kisses on me that I've ever experienced. It caused a spasm in my back. When she broke loose, she threw her arm over my shoulder, buried her face in my neck for a minute and whispered, "Asshole."

Then she got up and left. I mean, she drove away, without another word or glance.

Now, Kat and I have been close, but we've never dated. I've dated her friends, and she has dated mine, but the two of us have always sorta been off limits to each other for some reason. I won't say I haven't thought about it, and I figure she has as well.

So, now. What the hell?

Join the Club!

I'd like to thank all the folks who have commented, including the ones who could get together with my dad to make an "Iron Shoulder Is an Idiot" club. To reiterate and make a few things clear:

I appreciate that I might be able to get a better gig. I know that's possible. But it hasn't happened. I graduated back in the Spring, and if certain toxic recreational substances haven't permanently impaired my math abilities, I've continued to shelve books for five months waiting for something better to come along. It hasn't.

How long should I have waited? Six months? A year?

I'm ready to get started, dammit. At this point it doesn't matter how much I make. I know that makes me sound too eager and naive, but I get the feeling most of the folks telling me to wait for something better are looking at it from the inside, while I've been outside all this time pressing my nose against the window. I just need to get inside. I'll make it work from there. Which is better, the next six months at $13K developing my craft, or the next six months ringing up calendars and self-help books while someone else is learning my craft in my place?

The good news today is that I received an email from someone at the station who is looking for a roommate. It's a girl, too. I've never shared space for any length of time with a girl I wasn't sleeping with, so I'm not quite sure how the privacy issues would work. I suppose I would need to buy a bathrobe.

The bad news is that my boss at work has joined the "Iron Shoulder Is an Idiot" club and is pissed at me for turning in my notice. She told me today that she had planned to recommend me for the management training program. Yes, I could someday manage my very own bookstore. Not that I would give up on television, but why do these things always come up after a big opportunity presents itself to confuse the issue?

AFL, Continued...

After reading over my last post, I realized I need to add something:

I recognize how lucky I have been to have parents willing to pay for my college education, and I really, really, really appreciate it. In time I hope they'll understand that.

A Father's Love

Holy crap, is my dad pissed!

"I didn't pay for four years of college for you to take some minimum wage job!"

He told me to call them back and tell them I can't take it.

"You'd be better off working at god-damned McDonalds!"

I told him I would actually make more at McDonalds as a manager trainee with a college degree. He didn't appreciate that.

"I'm serious," he said. "You call them back and turn it down."

"I've already told them I'm coming. You want me to move back into the house instead?"

"You owe me something, son," he said. I can always tell he's really pissed when he calls me "son." "You owe me your best effort after all that tuition. This can't possibly be your best. Or did I just waste $100,000 on you?"

I haven't tallied it up, but it wasn't $100K, especially considering the first two years were community college. Still, he has a point. I do owe it to him to make something out of this mass comm degree with a minor in journalism. Where we really differ in opinion is that I believe I'm taking my first step toward that goal, while he can't see it as a good positioning move and thinks I ought to be able to wave my degree in a news director's face and get $30K like a business major.

He'll come around. I hope.

Minor Disappointments

Well, I called back this morning and talked to the news director again. He seems like a nice guy. He tried to warn me a little about the shock he was about to deliver, but it was still a little hard to take.

$13,000

Yes, that's what they're paying. For a college graduate. With a bachelor's degree. From an actual university. "I fight to at least keep it above minimum wage," he said. I guess his hands are tied by "corporate."

I had also read on industry message boards about getting moving expenses paid to help cover this 800 mile move I'm about to make. No such luck. I'm going to have to cough that up myself. Luckily everything I own now will fit in my truck and a U-Haul trailer.

I think it's going to be a little rough. I'm good with budgets, so I sat down and figured one out based on some online rents I found in the area. As long as I can find roommates, I'll be able to live on that. I think. If not, I'll have to get a second job. I'm lucky that my old truck is paid for, and that between my parents paying my tuition and my own jobs while in school I have no student loans. On the other hand, the parents have made it clear I can't fall back on them from here on out, so I'm on my own.

Minor disappointments, but I accepted the job anyway. I have to start somewhere, right?

They're giving me three weeks to get there and get settled. The news director wanted me there next week, but there's no possible way. I still have to give my notice at my bookstore job and find a place to live.

* * *

In other news, The Mighty Dyckerson has graciously accepted my plea for a link to my blog from his web page. If I did the link right, you should also see a link to his page on the right. From what I can tell from his posts on Medialine, this guy is nuts, and just associating myself with him in this limited way should put me in the wrong crowd. I'll put some more links there in the coming days.

I GOT THE JOB!!!

I have been trying for a several months since getting out of school to get my first job as a television news photographer. Today I got a job offer! It's a small market, and it probably won't pay much (I still have to talk with them about money), but I'm looking forward to learning as much as I can. The down side is that I'll have to move about 800 miles away, to a city where I don't know anyone at all. The up side is... I FINALLY HAVE A JOB!!!

I have been told I write well, and a friend from school suggested that I chronicle my experience so that others can laugh at me. I'm not sure what she meant by that, but I'll try it anyway. This same girl suggested the name Iron Shoulder for my blog. Again, I'm not sure whether that's good or bad.

I haven't officially accepted the offer, since I didn't receive the message until late this afternoon, and we were all told in school that calling back after 3pm will make your news director scream at you. Probably not the right way to start off a new gig. I figure I'll start in a couple of weeks, and I'll ramp up the posts then.

Wish me luck!