I have been getting more work being an MRI guinea pig. In particular this batty guy from mainland China is getting active again, scheduling weekend sessions for research he needs for papers he intends to present in conferences that apparently are coming soon. Although his research mainly consists of scanning my kidneys and prostate, which means I've got this fucking plate that is cracking my spine for upwards of five hours, I have been fortunate to get most of these numerous scan sessions from him. In fact, I think I became his favorite, which would usually scare me off, but because I need the money, I am appreciative.
I saw "was" his favorite because I was unable, for the first time in a long time, if ever, to make one of his sessions. And late communication and/or miscommunication may have been the reason. He told me he needed someone this Sunday evening, from 7 to 11.
Here are the circumstances specific to this and never occurring at any other time:
- Even though he told me the previous weekend (after a session) he probably will need me this past weekend, he didn't e-mail me until Friday afternoon. He has never asked me so late in the week;
- My sister flew back from Hong Kong and is here for only a few days more. Therefore, I want to spend as much time with her as I can. Family functions, even though they are never concrete until the last minute, are quite possible.
- I finally cleared up the possibility that we would have a huge Sunday dinner with Mother early Saturday afternoon. However, I kind of spaced out and was determined -- after doing my laundry -- that I would go exercise that afternoon before I, my sister and her best friend would go to the Minnesota State Fair that evening, something that we had planned for weeks. (We would meet up with my brother and sister-in-law at the Fair, by the way.) If we're going to pig out, I'm going to burn through as many calories as I can before I stuff my face. (I'm still fat, by the way.) That means I kind of blew off e-mailing this researcher back, telling him I was available, until some time after we got back. But no biggie, because he's cool with shit like that. Besides, he didn't tell me till Friday, he couldn't put me on a deadline, can he?
- But he did. Thankfully he was up after I finally got around to e-mailing him, at about a quarter to midnight. An hour or so later he told me that he actually found someone to fill in for me, but thanks, and we'll see you next time. (Aside: Since I told Mother I would be working, I had to now find an excuse to be out instead of staying in, which would only raise questions in them about whether or not I am actually working. It was possible that I could say they asked me to come in in the afternoon, but Sunday was the day I gave my sister the car, and she didn't come back until just before dinnertime. I worked out and then had coffee instead of "work.")
At any case, that was about 4-5 hours of blown "work" time, which translate to $60-75 gross wages.
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Tonight I was blissfully left alone to take a nap until the phone fuckin' woke me up. It turned out to be a company that was asking me to come in for a paid survey study. Some time ago I was a banshee signing up for these paid study groups and stuff -- easy way to make a quick buck, and there is no commitment than an hour or an evening. Now I occasionally get phone calls and e-mails from either survey companies, taste test companies or actual, you know, companies that are interested in paying me to either drink something (I had to test brandy once), use something (such as a lawnmower), or talk about something (like giving out private information and how and why I determine who to give it out to, a very interesting focus group I was proud to be a part of a couple months ago).
Toro was the company that called me tonight. But these companies usually don't just ask me to come in; they usually first have to ask screening questions to see if I'm eligible. To this day I don't know what fucking answers guarantee me a spot in these studies and thus money I get for "working." The only rule of thumb I think works is to say yes to questions that start off with, "Do you own ... ?" I have given these ... organizations the perception that I am a homeowner that has bought every product under the sun. I think I made the mistake of being honest and saying I did not own something, and thus was rejected. Fuck that -- from now on I have bought everything under the sun and own every single thing Man has made.
So I did that with the litany of questions this Toro fellow asked me ... well, he gave me a list of four types of lawnmowers and asked me which ones I own, and I said I owned three of them. He went on to the next question -- phew!
Yes, I own a chainsaw. Sure, I own a string trimmer. (I don't, but after mowing the lawn I have thought about getting one, no joke.) But then he asked me if the trimmer is gas- or electricity-operated. I said gas.
"Thank you. Well, after asking these questions (something, something, dude's a mushmouth) a quota." You're telling me I got rejected from a Toro survey?!?!?! But I just fucking said yes to everything!!! Actually, I didn't. Maybe I should've said I own both gas and electric trimmers. Or do you think I got rejected for saying I don't own that own type of lawnmower I said no too?
In any case the guy told me before he began interrogating me that I just had to come in one day next Thursday and I would get $65. Or was it $85? Whatever -- it ain't mine.
Fuck me, and fuck my life.
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