Friday.
What can be said about Friday, other than thank God. The work week...or the Non-working week, is over. I get up in the morning and take a nice hot shower to prepare for my day, shave carefully, leaving my new beard intact, get dressed and head downstairs. After getting my breakfast/lunch I hustle out of the door and down the street. I am still ready for the world. I wonder when this feeling will pass, because, as they say, all good things must. But as I feel today, I am still invincible and more than capable of dealing with every and any problem that sets itself against me.
I enter into FEGS and head straight into the computer room, and cop a seat before one of the computers. I call up the webpage for Demand Studios and begin to develop my account on it, filling out tax forms and bios for publication, plus there is a lot of reading how to navigate their web pages to get the most of your experience there.
When Ms. Droop called for us to leave the room, I was totally caught off guard. I closed down my accounts and left for the classroom where I had planned to eat my lunch, but as soon as I prepped the bag for digging, Ms. Droop gives us a new rule...that there is no eating in the classroom. What kind of new fucking rule is this? I've been eating in this room for as long as I've been in this jernt. I make a face as I put my sandwich away. We can't eat in the computer lab, this I can understand, but now we can't eat in the classroom? I'm just going to sit back and wait until one of these squirrelly motherfuckers whip out breakfast and sits down and goes at it and see if she comes up with this fucking restriction again. If not, I'm going along and eat my merry heart out.
As noon rolls around I head upstairs for my meeting with Ms. Robot. I check in at reception and take a seat, listening as people around me complain that they have been sitting for an hour or more. That's great. I didn't bring a fucking book or anything to churn air. I'm just going to have to be pa...."Mr. Hobobob!" Someone calls out. I stand up and wave. "Mr. Hobobob," she looks past me waving at her and then around the room. "Mr. Hobobob!" Finally I give up: I'm right here (you blind fucking bat)!
"Follow me," she says, walking past and heading in to the rat warren of cubicles. The only thing that stands out about her is her big ass. It moves gently before me as she enters her cubicle and gestures to a seat next to her desk. "Please, Mr. Hobobob." We sit. "My name is Ms. Fill-in. Is there anything that you would like to tell me about your first two weeks here at FEGS?" Yeah, my WEP assignment sucks, I would like to get out of it. "Would you like a new one?" No, I would like to come here five days a week and churn air. "You can't do that Mr. Hobobob, but what you can do is go downstairs and ask for a new WEP assignment." That sounds good. I also want to go to school then. She nods. "You want the school voucher." Yeah. She goes into an extensive reporting of what has to be done by me to get into these certificate classes. I only get one shot at the paid ones, but the free ones...well, I don't know how many shots I get out of those. I forgot to ask. I want them all if they're free. I want to walk away certificated down, which would look good on a job application or resume. PLUS I can skip the fucking WEP assignment if the classes fall on those days. Ms Fill-in leads me back out of the rat warren and leaves me to take out of the roach motel and walk up to Fortieth street. You heard me right! FORTIETH street! It takes me a little under an hour to make the trip, walking briskly. My legs feel like lead when I get to Dr. A's office. I am tired. I wait in his waiting room for a few minutes and then have my check up. I get another clean bill of health. He asks me about my MRI and my blood test. Whoops!
I let him know that I'll take care of all of that shit next week. I've just been dealing with FEGS and my days off. He understands. He always understands. I promise him that I'll get it done.
I head home gratefully. I have Friday behind me.
Tomorrow is the SHOUT OUT.
HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2009/07/brighter-future-for-you.html
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