Monday, December 12, 2005

I Work at a Place Called "Eddy's"

I work at a place called Eddy’s. I’m not going to tell you what kind of company it is, because you wouldn’t believe me anyway. No, it’s not a strip club—that would be too believable, don’t you think? And it’s not a not a coffee bar, because if it was I wouldn’t be writing this. I would be in a corner, every inch of me shaking and twitching while java dripped from my comatose mouth.

I’ll just leave it up to you to guess.

Eddy’s employs the following: 2 Indians (from India), 8 Hispanics (from various Hispanic nations), and one White Girl (from Utah). Every surface of Eddy’s is covered in a layer of dust. If you clean up the dust, the next day the dust will be right back where you left it, mocking you. If you breathe in too much at Eddy’s, you could possibly get lung, brain, liver, or pancreas cancer. If you fall asleep at Eddy’s, you could lose a limb, get robbed, or end up spray painted a rainbow of high-quality colors.

For a while, I didn’t have a phone in my office at Eddy’s. For a while, I didn’t have a computer at Eddy’s. For a while, I had a computer monitor, but no computer at Eddy’s. For a while, I had a computer, but no internet at Eddy’s. Now I have all of the above. Today was a good day at Eddy’s.

In my office at Eddy’s, there is a picture displaying several natural-breasted, big-haired 1980’s “sexy” women standing by some “hot” 1980’s car—I think it’s a Firebird or TransAm. I don’t think it’s “hot” at all. I think it’s old and dirty, like most of the pictures at Eddy’s. I would like to hang up a poster of James Dean or Robert Smith, but I doubt that would fly.

Eddy’s is not where I would have seen myself working five years ago, I still don’t see myself working there—yet I do five hours a day, five days a week. Eddy’s isn’t my “type” of work, but you know what? I like Eddy’s. Everyday I work at Eddy’s is great. There is no glass ceiling at Eddy’s. There are no vicious women at Eddy’s. My boss at Eddy’s doesn’t freak out on a weekly basis. There is no drama at Eddy’s.

I think I’ll stay at Eddy’s for a little while.

4 Comments:

At 12/13/2005 11:29 AM, Blogger Moonery said...

Robert Smith has big hair and natural breasts. I don't see what the problem is. Do you ever call Eddy "Eddy Spaghetti?" Because that would BE HILARIOUS!!! Spaghetti...

 
At 12/13/2005 11:32 AM, Blogger jez said...

Ha! Welcome to my world...

 
At 12/13/2005 5:36 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I just did you nitwit! Didn't you read the blog?

Nitwit. I like that word, I'm going to use it much more often.

 
At 12/15/2005 7:19 PM, Blogger Charisee310 said...

At this morning I am supporting my man as he has to work the evening event here at the Hyatt in Huntington beach. (If I had a rental car or if my sister Charise loved me enough to drive down here I wouldn't be stuck here...)
His job is to play a client compiled cd all night while people drink, play video games, ride a mechanical bull, and "network".
It is hard work.... we are both surfing online.... I don't know how much more we can take.

 

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