Christine Has The Munchies � � � Thursday, Jul. 03, 2003 * 22:00

I have done so little, and yet I have driven so far.

Maybe I should just make this a diary about driving, I seem to write about that a lot.

So where have I driven in the past week or so?

I drove from CP all the way to Catoctin National Park - that's in W. Maryland, about an hour and a half away. It was truly a beautiful day. I had the windows down almost the entire day, hanging my arm out and feeling the wind, while I listened to Hail To The Thief for the thousandth time. I drove over all the roads in the park, occasionally getting out to follow some does and rabbits into the underbrush. I saw about 20 does and a fawn. I also took a couple of little hikes into the wilderness, but the trails were too muddy and besides, it was getting late, and I wanted to drive home while it was still light out. I stopped at a Wendy's in Thurmont, which is the town surrounding the park, and saw a girl so beautiful she might have been Aphrodite herself, as well as a man so beautiful he might have been Adonis, in the parking lot of the grocery store across the way. She was probably about 15, and he was about 25. They were just going about their business. Every time I go out to western MD I see the most interesting, people. Just people. Somehow, around here, everyone's a mess. I ate my hamburger overlooking the low sun sinking behind the mountains, feeling the breeze labor through the car, smelling sweet hay all around.

This past Saturday, I drove my friend Katie and her friend Justine to Ocean City for the weekend. $90 dollars of liquor was procured, as well as a blender, ice, and ice cream, and fresh fruit. Oh yes. It was fun. That was the only drinking I had done in a month and a half. Once again, the weather was perfect. On Sunday, we went up to 127th street (of COURSE!) and sat on the beach; I bought a chair and brought a book - Liza of Lambeth by Maugham - and thoroughly enjoyed myself just relaxing. I know I haven't done shit in the past month, but now that I'm actively seeking employment and actually getting some, and it was so beautiful and natural to just laze in that chair after splashing and swimming in the cool water, I was really able to calm down and enjoy myself.

Also, these job interviews. Yes. They have required some very lovely trips. At my second interview for American Express, I waited half an hour to be told in less than a minute flat that "sorry, there must have been a huge mistake, I don't hire people who haven't graduated from college. I can't imagine how this came about. Care for some coffee before you leave, since you came all this way?" Fuckers.

Two other nonrelated trips to Columbia yielded no job results.

This morning, I drove to Columbia AGAIN to a temp agency to see about a job in Greenbelt, where I live, only to be told I had to have my passport for the fucking I-9 that they had to fill out to hire me. So, I go home, tell Katie that I'm going to be late for Legally Blonde, rush back to Columbia, thinking I can be in and out in time to still catch the 1:05 showing, only to be submitted to a barrage of tests, including typing, Word, and Excel. So, I scored very well on all but some sections of the Word test. I was there forEVER. Finally, I left. I still had to go home and revise my resume for the agency, because they wanted me to take out all the non-clerical stuff. Good advice, but I was more interested in seeing Reese Witherspoon carry a little dog around in her purse. At long last I picked Katie up, and on our way to Muvico, traffic decided to fuck with me yet again. No movie. Forget movie. We'll go tomorrow. We went to Starbuck's instead. Is it Starbucks, or Starbuck's??.......

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Ohhhh, no, my friends, today did not end there. Even though I have a job for part of next week, I still decided to attend my interview at buybuyBABY. That's what it's called. Spelled just like that, with those capitalizations. Fuckin' buybuyBABY. What is buybuyBABY, you ask?

I didn't know either, until I got there.

buybuyBABY. It is in Rockville. Tired out of my mind, nauseous, and seriously rumpled and scatterbrained from such a busy day, I slowly made my way there. 35 minutes later, I arrived at a largish store adorned with a huge sign proclaiming buybuyBABY!!. I was made to understand that I was interviewing for a position in the corporate offices of buybuyBABY as an "executive receptionist." I cautiously approached the store, as hordes of pregnant women swarmed in and out of the doors. Inside, I found a store much designed like Linens 'n Things, only for tiny people. I wandered around aimlessly, seeking some semblance of a corporate office nestled within the racks of miniscule jumpsuits and rows of petite armoires, grandfather clocks, and rocking chairs. Finally, I approached Customer Service. I announced myself, and was greeted with an expression of shock from one "Rosari," a small women with no teeth. She vaguely waved toward the registry counter, where a woman was poring over a printout. A nice young man then asked if I needed help. I asked for the corporate offices, where the interviews were conducted, and he looked at me as if I were from Pluto. Indeed, I must have looked as if I were from Pluto, in a three-piece suit, black silk stockings, and patent leather pumps, carrying a briefcase and a kid-finish envelope which was engraved with my name, amidst all of the screaming children and weary mothers-to-be. Finally, the printout woman approached me. Unsmiling, not offering a hand to shake, she looked at me and said, "Amy, right?"

"No... Christine. I'm here for - "

"You're the one who filled out the survey."

"No, again, I'm - "

"The one who faxed in an application."

"NO, I was contacted by someone regarding my resume online. I - "

"Right. Online. Same as fax."

At this point, as she began to skitter down the wooden staircase to the furniture section and beckoned me behind her, I marvelled at just how out of touch with technology I must really be. Who knew! Since my resume is online, naturally my name is Amy, and my resume has been faxed to every baby furniture and clothing store in Rockville, Maryland. What on earth was I thinking. I should go to slashdot.org more often. Got to stay on top of these trends.

My brain was reeling as she instructed me to sit in a child-sized rocking chair and wait. She skittered back up the giant wooden staircase. A band of tiny children gathered round me. Swathed in rags and covered in lollipop juices they glared with fear and awe at me, enshrined before them in a smallish but comfortable chair that they envied, wearing clothes that cost more than the entire bedroom collection surrounding me. I sighed and made a scary face and they scattered, squealing. A gaunt man in overalls circled the area, staring unequivocally in my direction, sending lascivious glances my way. I rolled my eyes when I saw his wife/flavor of the week stroll up and take his arm, as he winked surreptitiously at me over his shoulder.

I had to pee so, so badly. So badly. I considered peeing in the buybuyBABY child-size rocking chair, but then Gaunt Man would have seen me pull up my skirt, and I wasn't about to give him the wrong idea. I was deathly afraid that if I got up in search of a bathroom, I would either A)never make it to one and end up peeing all over the parquet floor or perhaps the small grandfather clocks which did rather look no better than toilets, or B)lose the skittering lady and be trapped confusedly in buybuyBABY all night, or perhaps for the rest of my days, desperately seeking the corporate offices, a toilet, and the ever elusive executive receptionist position.

So, I waited. Soon, Skitter returned noisily. I must explain her appearance before I go on any further. She is a small, dishevelled Lea Thompson look-alike... with a wall of hair, pretty woman, face like a frying pan. (ID that description and I'll mail you a peach!) She had in her small clutches a packet of paperwork. She explained that it was an application, an Insure Survey, and another form. She began to run away. Supplicating, I grabbed at her sleeve and begged her not to leave. I had to make sure I wasn't interviewing for some bloody sales associate position. "Could you tell me your name and something about the position? Please?"

"Kelly. We need a receptionist. For the store manager. You know. Executive." She then literally tore ass out of the vicinity of me and disappeared.

My God, man.

Now then. Bathroom time. I wandered about, finally finding a Philistine-ish guy standing about doing nothing at all. "Alan," read his nametag.

"Alan, where is the very nearest bathroom?"

"You mean a toilet? The toilet's in the bathroom, and the bathroom's right there! (gestures wildly at door bearing the sign "DO NOT ENTER")"

::blank stare::

"Of course. I - yes." I casually walked away until I was out of sight, and then I ran my ass to that door, for fear of ruining the parquet and being mugged by Alan with a butterknife.

Finally, I got down to business with the paperwork. The application and other form were no problem. The "Insure Survey," however, was another matter entirely.

As near as I could tell, it was a personality test. However, there were no questions regarding personality. I dutifully committed to memory the majority of the 124 questions, for your reading pleasure. I know you will enjoy this.

I had a piece of paper with spaces for all the answers. I had to write in either ABCDEFG for some answers, or determine where my preferences lay on a scale of 1-5 for others.

Here are just a few enchanting examples.

Have you ever seen a co-worker use illicit/street drugs at a job site?

How much have you stolen? 50,000 or more, 25,000 to 50,000, 1,000 to 25,000, 100 to 1,000, less than 100, or 0 dollars worth of money/merchandise from your previous employers?

Do you smoke marijuana?

Do you think it is okay to smoke marijuana on weekends, as long as you're on time to work on Monday???

Do you think marijuana is "not that bad" compared to cocaine, heroine, and crack?

Are you an alcoholic?

Have you ever been around a drunk person in a workplace? Were you embarrassed?

If a person can't remember what happened while drinking, does that person have a drinking problem?

How much do you agree with this statement? 'A party just isn't a party with beer/wine/liquor &/or drugs!!!'

Store management always has it in for the associates! Yes or No?

Would you be willing to be a 'snitch' for management?

Do you believe that marijuana, cocaine, and crack should be illegal?

Do you think that too much of a big deal is made out of marijuana usage?

Do you feel like the police are after you?

Have you ever felt foolish on a daily basis?

Do you have problems?

Do you ever do anything about your problems?

Do you think you can relax without the use of controlled substances or contraband?

Do you think it matters what people wear?

Have you ever tried marijuana?

Well, then. If you would like to talk about this little 'survey' in ANY way, please, PLEASE contact me immediately. And don't worry, I will work my hardest to get a copy of it.

After I wiped the tears from my eyes and cleared my throat, I neatly folded all the papers into the binder and waited for Kelly Skitter. Then, I realized that I probably needed to find her, because she hadn't really gone out of her way to, well, INTERACT WITH ME ON A NORMAL SOCIETAL LEVEL. But, I guess she was just doped up/cracked out since it was going on the weekend and of course it is okay to smoke pot on the weekends as long as you're not late for work on Monday. I found her upstairs and held out the papers with a smile.

"Do you need my resume?"

takes one look at what I had written on the survey "The store manager will be in contact with you shortly after he has reviewed this."

"Thank you, Kelly."

I walked out smiling, with my head held high. I got into my car, drove home, and I'm still smiling.

What had I written there?

??? WHAT ???

NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!!!!

(imagine a small, crude drawing of a cannibus leaf.)

Bye bye, baby.