3/27/07
I first met Erin in the summer of ’99, when we both started working customer service at the First USA
I worked at the worst job I’ve ever had** (packing live fish) for a few months, then started up at Southwester Bell, which became SBC and is now AT&T. Customer service jobs had been tainted forever from the year I worked at First USA (also, I hate people) so I got the job fully intending to quit once the ludicrously long and well-paid training period was over. One day, out on a smoke break, whom do I see outside but Erin taking her own cancer stick. It seems she was in the training class that had been hired just behind mine. Small world, huh? Her presence did not yet smack of something sinister going on behind the ebon folds of reality, just a happy coincidence.
Finally the day came when I had to “get on the phones” and I promptly stopped pursuing that avenue of employment. After a nice, long hiatus from the rat race I eventually got the job I have now in 2001. Around 2003 I had pretty much forgotten Erin ever existed, that is until for reasons which elude me at the moment, some friends and I went to Dennis’ Place, a local semi-countrified pool hall with karaoke. And who should be not only working there but waiting on our
Fast forward to 2005 and some friends and I are going out again. Guess who’s the cousin of one of them, in some convoluted, backwards way? Yeah. Erin. This has become officially weird. Thankfully I don’t make another whiskey-soaked pass at her, as I’m now sort of afraid she’s after my organs.
Yesterday. For some time I had been suspecting it, but yesterday I had a confirmed sighting; Erin is indeed working across the street at some furniture warehouse or something. I saw her leaving yesterday when I was out on a break and I would like to take this opportunity to give the Universe the finger. My life is perpetuated by the laziest screenwriter ever. No longer freaked, now I’m flat-out horrified. Clearly one of us has to go.
Wouldn’t that be fucked up to pick up the paper and read “Small Local Man Stabs Blond; Drunkenly Mutters Something About Lazy Universe,”?
* Around the Jett household we refer to the time after I quit First USA as The Dark Period for reasons which would be apparent if you’d known how I lived at the time. Think “early caveman” without all the bothersome hygiene or social skills. This is a swath of time which definitely deserves its own blog, if not several, in the near future.
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