So my Weekend From Hell has ended. Work at the Vikings game was actually very, very easy: I stood apart from the people I ostensibly was working for (literally, I was standing in the middle of the compound the whole time; barely watched the game, and for good reason) and the only things I did were help put up signs, grab water and pop for a truck, help someone grab pretzels, told one of my "bosses" the temperature inside U.S. Bank Stadium, and pull down the signs once that abortion of a game was over. Easy stuff, no stress ... although I could blog post about something I have noticed, and if I remember, maybe I will talk about it.
Really the worst part of my work day Sunday was driving to work; had a feeling that my car really wasn't gripping the highway like it was supposed to, a result of (as I would later learn through Twitter) all the black ice that accumulated throughout downtown. It's ... interesting to take this journey through time along with my car now, as it is adapting to life in winter, a season that will accelerate its life more than any other (at least starkly; I have a nagging suspicion summer may be even worse for the car than winter). I made it a point, for example, of snapping a photo of the temperature of the car when it started Sunday morning, when forecasters were saying that it might be the coldest it's ever been in the Twin Cities. (The record, by the way, is -23, and it still is -23, because the official temp, taken at MSP, reached only -20.) It showed -12, but apparently the sensor that detects temp is affected by the car whipping through the wind as I drove, because on my way to Das Bank it dipped to -18 and then, dangerously, -19. And I feel that such frigid temps do nothing but damage the car -- that along with all the snow and the road salt I inevitably picked up while driving. Yeah, I'm damaging the car whenever I drive it. Hell, it's damaged whenever it's parked on the driveway, at any time of the year. But I feel as if it's really aging now.
But I got home safe, after I got two lap dances from My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Version) and then got some stuff from Target. Then I crapped two times and fell asleep watching the Sunday night football game. So right now I am bright-eyed and bushy-tailed ... and I can't stop thinking about how I should be doing more productive things than this.
For example, I am trying to finish applying for this MBA program from Stanford. It's a special one where they will pay for your entire tuition to the program so long as you take a professional job, for two years, in a state in the Midwest -- such as Minnesota. It seems like it's up my alley, but, frankly, I really do want to do this in order to placate Father. So while I am trying to finish the application, I'm sort of ... not. I mean, I have to get a transcript. Then, I need to get three letters of recommendation. My current boss seems really busy right now, and of my past bosses, either they don't have the time or I have burned my bridges with them. I think that on that basis alone, I'm screwed. So maybe that's why I'm not feeling a sense of urgency to finish this.
In the meantime, on Saturday my boss, for the first time, made the earliest mention of the date where we lose our jobs. As things have been hectic at work, I get the feeling that all our deadline-strapped tasks we're doing now will stop at the end of the week, as if turning off the faucet. There will still be stuff to do, but that's why he dropped by our cubicles: He was telling us his ideas of how we're going to "transition" into the tasks that will complete our assignment.
I have thought about what I would do after losing my job. What I really want to do is go to the Far East and see Grandmother. But this is the first time I have really contemplated losing my job. And even though this has happened for over 20 years now, I felt a "there I go again" sameness to knowing that I will be unemployed again. So more than on filling out the Stanford app, I've been thinking about how I'm going to keep the money rolling in after I get let go. I don't have any answer, therefore I am feeling anxious all over again.
And that's why I'm going to rub on out after I finish this and before I go to bed. 'Cause I need it.
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