Not such a wasted day

Though at first glance, especially around a concrete corner just after dusk when there's just enough light in the sky, it may seem like a wasted day, it t'wernt. I interviewed at Sherwin-Williams. Apparently, even if it is by default since I seem to be the only interview-worthy candidate they can find again, I qualify to stock and sell paint on a part-time basis. That's good news, and may be my fall-back position. Tomorrow, I go to talk to someone representing the new video store in town to see if I qualify to rent videos to people. We'll see; it could be a stretch.

At any rate, after the interview today, I talked to Fred Schnook who's the executive director of NWCEP (a workforce development agency) about my "situation." He really went to bat for me, called a lawyer in Milwaukee, then suggested I not waste my time and energy fighting Northland because they were probably just really shitty to me, not necesarially illegal. I still may call the lawyer and ask, though. He also urged me to give him my resume so he could get it in his system. So I did. Then I talked to a guy about a machinist's job, but you know, I don't know the first thing about it, so no dice there. Then I went to Northland to hang a bit with Clare and see how she's doing working in an office where she's the sole survivor of Karen Halbersleben's axe.

Then I went home and finished "Jedi Academy" because I don't want it tugging at me any more. So I did, lightsabers blazing like beacons of good intention in a night of evil. But what if, like in my previous post, evil doesn't give a rip about good? What if evil just wants to crawl into a corner of the universe and foment? What if evil's been misunderstood all this time? What if good is paranoid? What if "Spaceballs" is right and good is just dumb?

Yeah, so then I went to jazz band. After I went shopping at JC Penny for interview clothes and had the rudest-ever so-called salesperson be a bitch to me. And after I went to see the sawdust maker and congratulate him on surviving another year of debauchery. Way to go, man. Then to jazz band.

The to Burger King (yes, I've seen "Supersize Me," yes I'm a moron to eat there, yes I had literaly 15 minutes between jazz band and birthing class. During which I learned a little about my fellow large women and nervous men, saw the same anatomy animations three times (I'm gonna dream about that mucous plug disolving away, lemme tell you what!), then practiced a relaxation technique that has left me pretty good and sore.

And now that time is almost dead (I've been doing such a good job of killing it by writing this post and washing my new shirt for my interview tomorrow), I'm going to bring in the dogs, pump out the sump and go to sleep. Wish me luck on the video thing. I'm even going to wear a tie. I hope that doesn't make me over-qualified.

What I didn't do, of course, is write. Alas, not one word for either story. But I have a plan: I'm going to take the laptop with the little keyboard with me to the interview and while I'm sitting in line in the basement of the bank, waiting for my turn to go use a firm handshake, look a person stright in the soul and make a good impression, I'm gonna write. Folks seem to like "The Wronger" a little more, so maybe I'll work on that first. But who knows? I'll take what ever comes. Cheers.