Jason (atanas) wrote,
Jason
atanas

Social mobility? more like social go-nowhere-bility

rebekah was riding my ass pretty hard last night about getting a new slightly less soul-crushing job. indeed, things at the old burrell place have been steadily declining. on wednesday night, after working for chris for the standard unnecessarily long two hours, punctuated by him sending me out to his car repeatedly to find some vitally important shoebox-sized battery (whose disappearance can be attributed to firstly the fact that it was hidden under his bed, and more importantly, to the fact that it wasn't a battery at all but an extension cord), i decided to celebrate the one day upon which i can wake up after 9:00 by staying up until five reading about interwar hungary. so i am unpleasantly roused at 8:00, because apparently chris had decided i was going to work for him on thursday morning without consulting me. this incensed rebekah, as it did me, especially since after dealing with chris i reported to the central co-op office for my four hour carnival of horror. firstly, there was an angry denunciation of my purported tardiness by my supervisor, whom luckily i just caught (she was on her way out for what would turn out to be a three-hour lunch break). then i was finally initiated into the sacred brotherhood of the furniture warehouse. the interior architecture resembles the depictions of native american mud huts that abound in fourth-grade social science books. it has a deathly, furniture-filled silence, which i became well acquainted with because my foreman/bailiff/overseer excused himself to flirt with the lady that delivers pickles on the pretext that he didn't know which type of dresser we were supposed to deliver. my personal hypothesis was that they'd ordered the dresser that wasn't covered with cobwebs and didn't have a hole kicked in the side, and eventually my outlandish views were validated. i enjoyed my co-furniture dude, not least because i first met him as he was hungrily eyeing the freepile. he stole the heart of jason during the scene in which we delivered the wrong item of furniture (perhaps it should be noted that we only had two pieces of furniture to deliver), and upon being informed of his mistake, he simply stared off into the distance and walked out. from the gossip that i overheard in the bloated bureaucratic ranks of central kitchen as i futilely scrubbed everything in view with filthy soapy water, i had no clue that there was almost as much conversation about the incompetence and paranoid psychoses of wilde house members there as there is inside of wilde house. i got back at them by accidentally locking three different sets of brooms and dustpans in the employee lounge and employee bathroom. who's incompetent now? don't answer that.
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