My Week

[Kevin]

The retail job moves along. I have to say, I have never been in my life a witness to a procession of such unhappy, sullen, mean, miserable bastards as the customers who come through my store. I don't want to, I try not to, but I find myself detesting most of them. I thought the misanthropic tendencies of my youth long gone, but here they are again in full bloom. It must be the area I'm in. I should very much like to work somewhere where a better class of people would frequent my place of work. That may make me sound like an elitist or a snob, but I swear, if any of you had to spend time with the caliber of people I've been forced to experience, you would say the same thing. It's like they've evolved to inspire hate. They must excrete some pheromone that makes life bitter and foul for all within sniffing range.

The job eats up my existence. I don't seem to get a moments peace. But I cannot leave it. Certain unfortunate financial incidents and responsibilities have arisen that force me to stay there. If I were to quit, I would become homeless in no uncertain terms. Many bad things have happened lately. It's an interesting exercise in tension. I have rarely felt such stress in my life, and never so prolonged a stress as this. It's disturbing, but compelling in a way. I've become interested in seeing just how much I can take. Everything keeps piling up.

I'd like to write or draw. But nope. The stress seems to douse any creative spark. There is only worry.

Hope all is well with all of you

Arco, we're expecting full documentation of all your experiences; full descriptions of both the physical and behavioral activities of all the beings you encounter, their interactions with each other, your interactions with them, and most importantly, your reactions (including any emotional states) to them. You will be graded on completeness and insightfullness. You may treat it as an anthropological study. We expect progress in both your abilities to describe and your forays into the metaphysical, which may include any other forms of artistic expression. This is your mission. Stay busy. Fortify yourself. We look forward to your regular reports. Grammar counts and we're counting on you. We will try to maintain on our end. Godspeed and don't give up the ship.

[dale]

The retail job moves along. I have to say, I have never been in my life a witness to a procession of such unhappy, sullen, mean, miserable bastards as the customers who come through my store. I don't want to, I try not to, but I find myself detesting most of them. I thought the misanthropic tendencies of my youth long gone, but here they are again in full bloom. It must be the area I'm in. I should very much like to work somewhere where a better class of people would frequent my place of work. That may make me sound like an elitist or a snob, but I swear, if any of you had to spend time with the caliber of people I've been forced to experience, you would say the same thing. It's like they've evolved to inspire hate. They must excrete some pheromone that makes life bitter and foul for all within sniffing range.

The job eats up my existence. I don't seem to get a moments peace. But I cannot leave it. Certain unfortunate financial incidents and responsibilities have arisen that force me to stay there. If I were to quit, I would become homeless in no uncertain terms. Many bad things have happened lately. It's an interesting exercise in tension. I have rarely felt such stress in my life, and never so prolonged a stress as this. It's disturbing, but compelling in a way. I've become interested in seeing just how much I can take. Everything keeps piling up.

I'd like to write or draw. But nope. The stress seems to douse any creative spark. There is only worry.

Hope all is well with all of you

i'm kind of in this same situation now. the difference for me is....this job allows me to openly drink wine throughout the day
while dealing with these people. kind of alleviates the stress factor.

[Arcopitcairn]

Well, My friend Kristen lived in Las Vegas for several years, and not long ago, I went there to help her move back after she had some troubles. There were certainly 'low-type' people there (as there are everywhere), but the ratio was different. When she returned to Indianapolis, she would often complain about the state of the citizenry here, talking endless smack about 'Hoosiers' (Used derogatorily), and all the 'rednecks'. She claimed that people in Vegas, for the most part, were of a higher standard. I furrowed my brow slightly when she would go on a tirade against these sorts of people, because I live here, and perhaps I felt some sort of civic responsibility to my home town. But I've come to the realization, no matter the cost to my standing as a human being, and in fear of being a 'class-snob', that she has been quite correct with many of her points. I know now that though I live in Indianapolis, I am not of Indianapolis.

I always said in jest that I never loved my fellow man so much than when I was not around him. I have always been rather solitary, with a choice group of friends, and though I am friendly and courteous to those I meet here, I know now that I mostly see myself as above them in certain ways. Of course, intrinsically, my life is not more important than the life of any other person, I realize this, but I think there is something to be said for varied levels of validity and usefulness in the sphere of human existence. It may be imperious (Which I most certainly am), but I think perhaps that I should be seen and listened to with different eyes and ears than a common redneck, respected more. Unfortunately, rednecks and scumbags all seem to labor under the misconception that they too are 'just fine', and should be respected in some way. I see now that this may not be so true. I do not respect these people that I am forced to come into contact with. They have nothing to offer. There is no art in them, no higher meaning in their lives and no appreciation of the finer things in the world. What I have just uttered is a generalization, to be sure, but not much of one, not so much off the mark, really.

I think people are generally good, in a way. I think that most people, such as myself, who are of a higher stripe, are smart enough, and magnanimous enough to honestly want to give the cretinous all the benefits of the doubts that we can, because those cretins are so human-like, like chimps, that we should very much like to assign some worth and dignity to them to show that there is at least some hope for these poor bastards and their cursed offspring. In some far-flung future, these meth-addled, tattooed, half-christian, gun-fetishists, these street-walking gutter-skipping idiots may just realize how worthless they are, how much a joke they are, and pull themselves somehow out of the muck. But not today.

True absolutism is viewed these days as radical, extreme, or misguided by most. A laser-focused idea about something that most people would put up for debate is disquieting to some, yeah? But I say to you, in absolute terms, that I am better than these people. I feel sorry for them, maybe I'm even rooting for them to better their station in life, but mostly they just inspire disgust in me. It's a cosmic tragedy that I should have to even see these wretches, much less speak to them and serve them. It's humiliating. But absolutely necessary, unfortunately.

It's a 'first world' problem, and that's the truth, and I know that. But there are corners of suffering and pain in the first world, too. And I'm in one. It sucks.

[Arcopitcairn]

Oh, I wish I could drink at work. Because I would. All the live-long day.

[Arcopitcairn]

I've been whistling Christmas songs at work. I did not understand why I would be doing that in the compulsive way I have been doing it. I thought about it for a while, very carefully, and now I realize why I'm doing it.

When I was very young (Age 3 or 4), I loved Winnie The Pooh. Lots of kids did, I guess. I also never really slept very well (In my entire life so far) and I laid in bed awake in the night, or wandered the house in the dark. One of my most vivid childhood memories is sitting awake on my bed in the middle of the night, staring, terrified at the open and dark closet door, the pitch black awfulness inside. My child's brain knew something was in there, and it was going to get me. I remember whispering the Winnie The Pooh theme over and over to myself, like a talisman of comfort, singing to myself to ward off terror.

I always loved Christmas songs. They take me back, you know? To when things were simple. That's why I'm whistling carols at work. I'm doing it to try and ward off desperation and stress.

Nicknames I have given to some of the customers at my terrible job:

Natural Three-Finger
Kee-Oh Baby and The Dirty Girl
The God-damned Retard
The Other Retard
The Actual Retard
Silent Walker
Happy Smoker
Pregnant Drama Squeaker
The Cat Caretaker
The Two Little Bastards (And the Most Useless Mother in the World)
Black Brady Bunch
Meth Queen
The Sexy Girl Covered in Sores
Batwing Armfat Man
The Gays
The Frightened Woman
The Nazi Jerk
Every Episode of Jerry Springer Sisters
Milf with Tardo
Mr. Important in a Hurry
The Change-Tosser
The Angry Food-Stamper

And those are only the ones I could rattle off the top of my head. It's a horror show. I wish I lived in a better part of town.

I've been so discombobulated by stress and troubles, I have not been able to concentrate on anything creative. But I've settled in a little, become accustomed to the drag. I'm finally writing a little bit and I hope to draw a little bit again. Yay!

BTW...A book of zombie fairy tales, for which I drew the cover, and in which I have a story, will be published in a few weeks. So that's nice, too

[Pluralized]

Man, it's nice to hear from you. These nicknames, while obviously horrific examples of the human sludge you must deal with, have made my day. Certainly must be great story fodder, if nothing else, right?

Congrats on the illustrating gig too, that's awesome.

[dale]

Nicknames I have given to some of the customers at my terrible job:

Natural Three-Finger
Kee-Oh Baby and The Dirty Girl
The God-damned Retard
The Other Retard
The Actual Retard
Silent Walker
Happy Smoker
Pregnant Drama Squeaker
The Cat Caretaker
The Two Little Bastards (And the Most Useless Mother in the World)
Black Brady Bunch
Meth Queen
The Sexy Girl Covered in Sores
Batwing Armfat Man
The Gays
The Frightened Woman
The Nazi Jerk
Every Episode of Jerry Springer Sisters
Milf with Tardo
Mr. Important in a Hurry
The Change-Tosser
The Angry Food-Stamper

lol. i swear i do this with pretty much everyone i 1st meet. my most recent one was yesterday. it was a really fat chick without a chin, which i found
kind of a rarity. she became "the chinless wonder".

[Pluralized]

You guys make Indianapolis sound absolutely delightful.

[JosephB]

I tend to name my clients after sitcom and movie characters. We have one who's really uptight and by-the-book -- we call her "Miss Jane" after Jane Hathaway on the Beverly Hillbillies. Kind of looks like her too. Others include "Smurfette," and "Newman" from Seinfeld. Smurfette is a stocky little woman with piles of blond hair. Our Newman doesn't look so much like Newman, but he sure acts like him. Then there was a guy named "Charlie" because for months, we never met him -- we just heard his voice on the conference room speaker phone. I guess those are pretty benign compared to Arc's list.

[dale]

You guys make Indianapolis sound absolutely delightful.

it's really not a bad city, in my opinion. i'd probably keep a home here, even if i came into a lot of money. i think he and i kind of have in
common too much experience with the more sordid areas of town. not sure about him, i don't know him personally, but that's the way i take it.

edit: oh...and i guess this post just moved me up from an "adept writer" to a "profound writer". how special.