cretinfamily

I suppose a reason for my recent lack of participation on SG is in order. You see my lovely friends it is not that I have found anything more enjoyable than your company, it's only that I have just of late seen the error of my ways.
I took a peek at my bank account and realized that it was in dire need of being fed something besides overdraft fees.

So began my search for (please do not be frightened) a real job.

I soon realized that my only real chance of making over $6 an hour would be for me to sell my derriere on the cold, unforgiving streets of this city.

Then one night as I was readying myself for my first go at being lady of the evening, IT happened. You may be asking yourself (given that you are still reading) what could this IT that she speaks of be?
Well let me tell you, this IT was the answer to all of my problems. As I stepped into my six inch stilettos and headed toward the door I decided to take one final glance at my email, to see if there were any responses to my imploration for a job.
That is when I saw IT, a position promising me financial freedom. The opportunity of a lifetime. The chance to do as I always wanted and make money while sitting in my pajamas at home in front of my computer.

Now you may be thinking to yourself "this cannot be for real, there is no way this is anything but a scam" and you my dearest friend would be absolutely right.
However as I was reading this email I did think twice about my newly formed career as a prostitute and took off the stilettos

(yes, you may all breathe a sigh of relief now).
So, the questions remain:

Did she get a job?
Will she ever be able to get off her current diet of ramen and mac-n-cheese?
Is scurvy sure to set in?

Well, let me tell you that world out there is a scary place.

Once I could get over my fascination of people actual telling me their feelings instead of emoticons, I was able to find a job that paid me a salary befitting my skill of magniloquent speech.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen I am going to be a call center employee.

Please hold all mockery, it seems this job is contingent upon two things:

1. My ability to pass a drug test.
2. A background search that is so thorough by the end of it they will know the time, color, and smell of all my bowel movements.


The drug test was the one thing I knew I would have no problems with. Not that I agree with drug screening employees, but still I knew I had nothing to worry about in this area.
It is so surprising how wrong one can be sometimes.
The day I go for my drug test I had my normal morning routine of coffee/water/coffee/water/coffee/coffee/coffee.
Now for a normal bladder this should ensure a tremendous amount of urine,

however for me it seemed to only produce two tablespoons at best. The cantankerous wench

that gave me the first test informed me that I would have to do better than that and sat me in the waiting room with a six ounce cup of water to drink. I had thirty minutes to produce more urine and if I was not able to give enough the second time I would be sent back to the company with a somewhat bad report.
So, here I was sitting in a waiting room speaking coaxingly to my ill-performing bladder with my grandmother, who had came with me to watch my spawn, telling me how late for work she was and asking me every two minutes if I could go yet.

As pleasant as this scenario was I for one was ready to leave so I inform the nurse that I think I'm ready for round two and she informs me that she is busy and I could just wait my turn.
As luck would have it there was another nurse on duty who seemed far less agitated with my scant urine producing bladder who was willing to walk back with me. I step into the bathroom once again and read the signs on the wall that tell me:

DO NOT FLUSH
DO NOT WASH YOUR HANDS
DO NOT SCREW THIS UP OR YOU WILL HAVE TO LIVE IN A BOX

Ok, I can do this, I sit down and hold the cup between my legs and try, and try, and well, try. Once again I was a urinating failure. So, with a defeated look upon my face I hand my cup to the nurse. She looks at it, frowns, looks at me, and with a whispered voice informs me that she was going to accept this sample.
OH MY DAMN!

Could it be that this nurse understands the pleading look in my eyes that says "FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS SACRED, JUST HELP ME NOT BE THE INSANE, HOMELESS, SHOPPING CART LADY DOWNTOWN"?!

So, with many thanks to this angel of urine mercy

and a huge smile on my face I skip out to the waiting room, collect the child and old woman, and leave this place of bladder torture.
Not surprisingly ten minutes after I leave I pee enough to fill thirty of those detestable cups.

So ends the first part of this unnerving, un urinating, un prostituting story of my job quest. I will update at a later time informing all of you all but interested readers of the outcome.



****UPDATE : Looks as though everything is fine and I
am now an employee of a call center.
mocking may continue.