What’s It Gonna Take?

March 23, 2010 at 10:35 PM | Posted in Riding In Cars With Pizza | Leave a comment
  I left my day job yesterday, and I was looking forward to a quiet night at home:  first a nap, of course, then I would hop on the ol intarwebs and do some research for the radio show, do a little writing, the obligatory porn session, and something else, too…what was it?  Oh, yeah–NOW I remember–
  I was going to look for a job.
  Cause, ‘member, I got fired from The Three Jakes?  Sunday I spent in quiet contemplation and relief, knowing I no longer had to go back to that shithole armpit roadkill shirt stain butthead retard crapfest…uh, shithole.  I ran out of words again.
  I had some ideas lined up, so now it was time to get serious about looking for another part time job.  I even toyed ever so briefly with the idea of pursuing my writing, because we all know how well that pays.
  So there I am, driving home on an early spring afternoon.  The sunroof is open, I have a cigar lit and music playing.  I had my evening laid out, and the road ahead was full of promise and potholes. 
  But first, I had a call to make.  I needed to call Brian, the manager of The Three Jakes, just to make sure, because my life is a series of events of which I have only the vaguest sense of of understanding.
  "Can I talk to Brian?"  I tensed up, waiting for him to get on the phone.  Am I going to be chided yet again?  I don’t work for you anymore, buster–you can’t talk to me like that!    Brian got on the phone.  "Hey, what’s up?"
  "Brian, I just wanted to confirm with, and hear it from you, that I was in fact terminated Saturday night."
  "Huh?  What?"
  As a manager, I thought he would be more on top of things than this.  I repeated it, and he said, "No.  Wait.  No."  He explained–and this made sense because I was there and I saw it–that Von didn’t understand what he had told him, and I guess I didn’t read the paper I signed very well.  The blank was filled out to read "TERMINATION."  But the text before that I guess I didn’t read closely, because I was too hung up on the "TERMINATION" part.  The text said, "Continued violations will result in:"
  Oh.
  While I was processing that, Brian said, "Do you come in tonight?"
  "Yeah."  Yeah, I guess I do after all.  Fuck.  I said, "Okay, then.  Well, see ya at five," and hung up.
  It’s a helluva thing, you know?  I was happier thinking I was fired.  And now I have to go in?  My hopes and expectations are askew and thrown hither and yon.
  I talked with Kelly last night at work, as I’m about to leave.  She says I’m her "Three Jakes" husband and she treats me like it.  She’s gonna make someone a really dangerous first wife some day.  But she said, "Why don’t you just quit, then?"
  I explained.  "I have a code–a policy, if you will–that I live by.  Being fired is one thing, but I try to never quit a job without having another one lined up.  No matter how much I hate it.  I did the same thing with my ex-wife.  I didn’t leave her until I had another one lined up."
  When I told her that, her eyes just got wide.  This nubile, hot young black girl *thinks* she is worldly, and *thought* she had seen everything–until now.  Honey, you ain’t seen *nuthin* yet.
  Maybe smacking that ass will get me fired.  It’s worth a shot.
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