Inspect, Rivet, Package, Repeat...
…10,000+ times later and my first week was finished. An overview:
Tuesday: Went right to work… worked for a few hours until Loleta came and got me. Went to the tax office and got my Florida i.d., you know that thing that’s really just for old people too feeble and blind to drive but still want to vote… and then we went back to work. She had to get some papers together and I passed the waiting time working more. She bought banana bread. Mmmm, such a thrill for the taste buds. Then we went to the medical lab. The nurse was really friendly, she was teasing me about not being sure if I could pee in her cup or not. She was bitching about not having her Chinese food more than an hour after ordering. After downing a few cups of water I decided that I was going to try to urinate on command. After 10min of trying my damnedest I finally conquered my pee-shyness, during which time I heard the nurse thoroughly bitch out the delivery guy about not even getting the right food after waiting an hour and a half. It was humorous, but I really did feel bad for her. Then I finished off my day and went home exhausted from the ride home. I don’t remember anything after that. Fucking heat.
Wednesday: They put me on a new machine in hopes I’d be more comfortable. I guess it is… the rivets get stuck a lot though, but from that I learned how to unstick the machine and also to refill my rivet supply. Ate lots of banana bread. My first day of strictly working out in the plant.
Thursday: Work work work. I don’t remember anything other than that. I really think my memory is worse than ever… and it’s always been awful.
Friday: My mom called me within my first hour of being on the job. Stupidly, I answered my phone. I was given her paycheck Thursday (we only get paid on the first of each month in this place) so she wouldn’t have to make a trip all the way over there. She wanted to know how much it was. So I had to stop and deal with that which was already annoying… and found out that it was worth about $384. Not even enough to cover her already discounted payment to my father to pay for her share of the debt. So that pissed me off. Then Dennis, my fellow riveter and constant entertainment, who is usually really cool and loveable despite his slight racism… *sigh*… was getting on my nerves for a good while, talking to me about my mother. I’m not even going to go into all the detail of what was going through my head. Suffice it to say that, had he gone any further and I kept holding my tongue, my head probably would’ve burst. Friday…. Bad morning. But it all turned out ok. In fact the day was really lazy and full of pleasant surprises… My dad tried to get off early. Didn’t happen. In fact, he was a wee bit late… but I still punched out at 4… I had put in my fair and contracted 8 hours…
Conclusive/Extra Thoughts: My mother… is so ridiculously dumb… I feel sorry for her. I hate it but I can’t help it. She’s like that cartoon vulture from Looney Tunes… technically a bad guy but is just so stupid you can’t hold any malice, no matter how hard he tries to kill Bugs Bunny. And you can’t help but feel pity… Just the same though, I can’t stand even the thought of her. I will never be able to back any money enough for school or… what I’m supposed to be doing at this age… MY life… and not have to pull her senseless and arrogantly selfish weight. I don’t want to voice that huge rant either… it’s just not worth the cyberspace or the effort of typing. At least, I’m not angry enough at the moment to believe otherwise.
Went shopping with pops today. When we walked through the condiments aisle, I saw hundreds of marinades and such. I looked at bottles that said things like “New Orleans Cajun” and “Louisiana BBQ” (or whatever the hell flavor these places are known for) and got the weirdest feeling. I don’t even know a word for it. The bottles themselves just seemed lonely, ghostlike… as if themselves suggesting that their homeland was no longer full of happy kitchens that smelled of Cajun meat and happy people. It was kind of like looking at a photograph of the twin towers… but worse.
I wish I had gotten paid on Thursday also. I wouldn’t have gotten much, and not a paycheck… but I could’ve used the money to get a cd player so that my mind can wander more effortlessly during the day.
Dentists are thoughtless and unorganized… and aren’t doing a very good job at covering up their “secret” conspiracy to do all in their power to get people’s teeth in the worst possible shape before helping them… *grunts*
I'll be womaning again soon. I hate that anticipation... that knowing that at any second, I'll start bleeding from my crotch. As if bleeding nonstop for days at a time from the same spot and not dropping dead AND knowing that there's nothing wrong isn't creepy enough...
Oh, and just so no one even slightly envies my getting grand-fathered into an easy as crap $9 an hour job… let me go over the whole bit…
First of all, all that money... I'll hardly see any of it. I have to support myself... and pull my mother's sagging weight. What I do get to keep will soon enough all be spent on furthering my education... because that's supposed to be some great thing to do.
I have to deal with a creepy guy who makes me uncomforable in every way... he's the kind of guy you'd peg for being a child molesting preist or something.
I have to wake up by 5:30am… leave the house by 6:20ish… endure the ride to work for almost an hour and a half… get to work around 7:50… work all day until 4… endure the ride back home in the Florida summer heat in the usually blaring sun for about 2 hours - with no fucking ac… get home around 6pm-ish… do outdoor and indoor chores…deal with dinner… and that puts me at about 7:30/8pm… which gives me a little time for myself until I have to go to bed around 9.
A thought crossed my mind Friday thinking about this:
How the fuck… am I going to manage classes in a year when I start going to school again? Homework is simple, I can do that in the 3 and a half hours I’m on the road… granted I’m not the one driving… but when the hell am I going to get into a classroom to even get the homework?
…I’m going to be a factory worker for the rest of my life… I’ll be just like Grace Kelly… but not even half as cool.
On a happier note though, I had a wonderful weekend of do-nothingness. Actually, I even managed to do some constructive things and not even notice... And I have a bag of Cinnamon Imperials... and they just make everything right in the world...
Tuesday: Went right to work… worked for a few hours until Loleta came and got me. Went to the tax office and got my Florida i.d., you know that thing that’s really just for old people too feeble and blind to drive but still want to vote… and then we went back to work. She had to get some papers together and I passed the waiting time working more. She bought banana bread. Mmmm, such a thrill for the taste buds. Then we went to the medical lab. The nurse was really friendly, she was teasing me about not being sure if I could pee in her cup or not. She was bitching about not having her Chinese food more than an hour after ordering. After downing a few cups of water I decided that I was going to try to urinate on command. After 10min of trying my damnedest I finally conquered my pee-shyness, during which time I heard the nurse thoroughly bitch out the delivery guy about not even getting the right food after waiting an hour and a half. It was humorous, but I really did feel bad for her. Then I finished off my day and went home exhausted from the ride home. I don’t remember anything after that. Fucking heat.
Wednesday: They put me on a new machine in hopes I’d be more comfortable. I guess it is… the rivets get stuck a lot though, but from that I learned how to unstick the machine and also to refill my rivet supply. Ate lots of banana bread. My first day of strictly working out in the plant.
Thursday: Work work work. I don’t remember anything other than that. I really think my memory is worse than ever… and it’s always been awful.
Friday: My mom called me within my first hour of being on the job. Stupidly, I answered my phone. I was given her paycheck Thursday (we only get paid on the first of each month in this place) so she wouldn’t have to make a trip all the way over there. She wanted to know how much it was. So I had to stop and deal with that which was already annoying… and found out that it was worth about $384. Not even enough to cover her already discounted payment to my father to pay for her share of the debt. So that pissed me off. Then Dennis, my fellow riveter and constant entertainment, who is usually really cool and loveable despite his slight racism… *sigh*… was getting on my nerves for a good while, talking to me about my mother. I’m not even going to go into all the detail of what was going through my head. Suffice it to say that, had he gone any further and I kept holding my tongue, my head probably would’ve burst. Friday…. Bad morning. But it all turned out ok. In fact the day was really lazy and full of pleasant surprises… My dad tried to get off early. Didn’t happen. In fact, he was a wee bit late… but I still punched out at 4… I had put in my fair and contracted 8 hours…
Conclusive/Extra Thoughts: My mother… is so ridiculously dumb… I feel sorry for her. I hate it but I can’t help it. She’s like that cartoon vulture from Looney Tunes… technically a bad guy but is just so stupid you can’t hold any malice, no matter how hard he tries to kill Bugs Bunny. And you can’t help but feel pity… Just the same though, I can’t stand even the thought of her. I will never be able to back any money enough for school or… what I’m supposed to be doing at this age… MY life… and not have to pull her senseless and arrogantly selfish weight. I don’t want to voice that huge rant either… it’s just not worth the cyberspace or the effort of typing. At least, I’m not angry enough at the moment to believe otherwise.
Went shopping with pops today. When we walked through the condiments aisle, I saw hundreds of marinades and such. I looked at bottles that said things like “New Orleans Cajun” and “Louisiana BBQ” (or whatever the hell flavor these places are known for) and got the weirdest feeling. I don’t even know a word for it. The bottles themselves just seemed lonely, ghostlike… as if themselves suggesting that their homeland was no longer full of happy kitchens that smelled of Cajun meat and happy people. It was kind of like looking at a photograph of the twin towers… but worse.
I wish I had gotten paid on Thursday also. I wouldn’t have gotten much, and not a paycheck… but I could’ve used the money to get a cd player so that my mind can wander more effortlessly during the day.
Dentists are thoughtless and unorganized… and aren’t doing a very good job at covering up their “secret” conspiracy to do all in their power to get people’s teeth in the worst possible shape before helping them… *grunts*
I'll be womaning again soon. I hate that anticipation... that knowing that at any second, I'll start bleeding from my crotch. As if bleeding nonstop for days at a time from the same spot and not dropping dead AND knowing that there's nothing wrong isn't creepy enough...
Oh, and just so no one even slightly envies my getting grand-fathered into an easy as crap $9 an hour job… let me go over the whole bit…
First of all, all that money... I'll hardly see any of it. I have to support myself... and pull my mother's sagging weight. What I do get to keep will soon enough all be spent on furthering my education... because that's supposed to be some great thing to do.
I have to deal with a creepy guy who makes me uncomforable in every way... he's the kind of guy you'd peg for being a child molesting preist or something.
I have to wake up by 5:30am… leave the house by 6:20ish… endure the ride to work for almost an hour and a half… get to work around 7:50… work all day until 4… endure the ride back home in the Florida summer heat in the usually blaring sun for about 2 hours - with no fucking ac… get home around 6pm-ish… do outdoor and indoor chores…deal with dinner… and that puts me at about 7:30/8pm… which gives me a little time for myself until I have to go to bed around 9.
A thought crossed my mind Friday thinking about this:
How the fuck… am I going to manage classes in a year when I start going to school again? Homework is simple, I can do that in the 3 and a half hours I’m on the road… granted I’m not the one driving… but when the hell am I going to get into a classroom to even get the homework?
…I’m going to be a factory worker for the rest of my life… I’ll be just like Grace Kelly… but not even half as cool.
On a happier note though, I had a wonderful weekend of do-nothingness. Actually, I even managed to do some constructive things and not even notice... And I have a bag of Cinnamon Imperials... and they just make everything right in the world...