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5:39 a.m. - 2001-06-01

MAKE ME AN OFFER I CAN'T REFUSE

Well, I finally went back to work yesterday after a week off of vacation and sick days.

I halfway expected everyone to tell me to turn around and go home because my eye is still pretty bloodshot.

Wrong.

They're all like "Can you get the phone...I'm busy."

Thanks people...glad to be back, you insensitive fucks.


We hired a new salesgirl in my absence.

She INSISTED on shaking my hand to get our relationship off on the right foot.

I told her twice that I had pinkeye and it was very contagious. Finally, I pulled the bottom of my eye down and showed her all the red and raw area surrounding my eye.

She STILL wanted to shake my hand.

I literally PUT MY FOOT out instead and said "Shake my foot".

She shook my shoe.

I've got a feeling we've hired a legitimate weirdo.


I then had lunch with some old friends/ex-co-workers at Tony Roma's.

One of them had a proposition for me.

...Come work for us.

It kinda took me aback at first. She had said that she had something she wanted to run by me ... I mentioned it sometime last week. I thought she just wanted my help in writing a book or something, which is what her company does.

Nope.

Come work full-time for us, writing business profiles for books.

At first, I thought "I can't do that...I HAVE a job already."

But then...30 seconds later I thought..."Why not?"

So we talked. And I thought about it. And the more we talked and the more I thought about it, the more I'm thinking...yeah...it's time for a change.

I've been at the same job now for about nine years. To say I'm burned out would be an understatement and a crime against humanity. Or at least an understatement.

I like my current job. I really do. Mondays are spent getting prepared for the week's paper...Tuesdays are intense deadline days ... and Wednesdays through Fridays are slack days with very little to do and what little there is to do, I can do it at my own pace and take my time with it.

If I want to go home early or show up late, I just do it. People may not like it, but nobody yells at me over it.

Yesterday I took a two hour and 15 minute lunch. Nobody said a word.

THAT'S what I like about the job.

Plus, I'm seen as a community leader and given lots of opportunities to do things that normal citizens can't do.

I turned down the opportunity to drive a NASCAR car this weekend at our local race track.

I turned down the opportunity to speak on a panel of journalists to college students on Monday morning (Andy's got a doctor's appointment).

Y'see the pattern here? I'm turning down more stuff than I'm actually doing.

That's why I think it might be time for a change.

I'd still be writing...just writing books and not newspaper stories and columns.

And I'd be working with two of my best buds as well. At the newspaper, all my friends are gone now. My best friend at the office now is Drunk-Assed Jamie, who's a nice guy and all ... but six months ago I would have never considered hanging out with him or asking him to go to lunch with me, which is what I do now.

Anyway...that's where my head is at today ... trying to decide if I'm ready to leave the warmth and security of my current job and start something new.

Both of my old buddies/ex-coworkers are happy that they made the change to this other company over the newspaper.

Maybe it's my turn.

I know one thing...I'm currently burned out and need a new challenge in my work.

And this should do the trick.

I hope anyway.


Oh! And there's a good chance I'd travel some with this new job.

While I really enjoy being home with my wife and boy, it'd be kinda neat to see different parts of the country a few times a year.

Especially if I'm getting paid for it.

Woot! Woot!


Alright...enough about me.

Let's talk about these ignorant somomabitches at the bank drive thru lanes.

I know I've ranted and raved about these jackasses before ... but yesterday, this bastard took the cake.

The guy was directly in front of me as we pulled into the drive thru lanes. He was driving a BMW, which pissed me off right away because I have NEVER gotten behind a person in a BMW in a bank drive thru who had a clue as to what the FUCK they were doing.

NEVER.

It's like...buy a fancy car and leave your brain at the dealership.

Lousy fucks...

So anyway ... there's a car in front of him, making me the third car in line.

The first car's taking forever. I have no idea why. I wasn't really perturbed with that fucker anyway.

The Beemer gets up to the window, grabs a deposit slip and starts writing.

And writing.

And writing.

And calculating.

And talking to the other passengers in their car.

And writing some more.

I started steaming. THREE FUCKING MINUTES went by before this dumbass bastard sends his deposit in.

Oh. He wants to ask the teller a question. So they talk for a minute. I couldn't make out what they were saying because my window was rolled up and I was enjoying some of that fine Corinthian air conditioning.

A few minutes go by. Finally, the little tube comes back to the Beemer and he pulls it out and brings it into his car.

I straighten up in my seat, put the car in drive and prepare to inch forward to send my deposit in.

The guy sits there for a few seconds.

Then...oh Jesus on a slice of toast...THEN the guy sends the sumbitch BACK with some more deposits.

I lost it.

I rolled the window down and yelled "JESUS CHRIST!!!"

His eyes went to his rear-view mirror and he stared at me because he probably thought I had been shot since I yelled so loud.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?" I yelled again.

He definitely heard me. He kept looking in his rear view. He was a black guy, roughly my age. Just kept staring in that rear view.

I really, REALLY wanted to get out of my car, approach his window and punch him as hard as I could in the throat for being such a dumbass.

"BAM!"

"You're a dumbass!"

I worked as a bank teller in a drive thru for about a year back in the 80s. People...it's reeeeeal simple.

The drive thru is for people in a HURRY. Not for those of you who think "Well...I have a shitload of transactions to do...but I sure don't feel like getting out of my precious fucking car ... so I think I'll just use the drive thru and screw all those morons behind me who were too slow to get in front of me."

There used to be signs hanging up in the drive thru that told these lazy assed motherfuckers the rules ... limit yourself to three transactions per car ... include I.D. with your transactions ... have transactions ready before you pull up to the tube thingie.

Yet...I ALWAYS get behind some goddamned idiot who wants to send all his transactions in ONE AT A FUCKING TIME.

And I've had it.

Therefore ... I'm seriously thinking about becoming a Bank Drive Thru Lane Vigilante.

Every time one of these ignorant cocksuckers gets in front of me and tries to send that tube in more than once....you're going to have to deal with the Bank Drive Thru Lane Vigilante Guy ... aka ... me.

Here's my plan to stop them dead in their tracks...

I will sit in my car and stare at them and mouth the words "ignorant motherfucker" over and over at them while they stare at me in their rear view.

If they're REALLY ignorant, I will roll down my window and yell "Jesus Christ! What the fuck is wrong with you??"

AND ... if they send it back more than twice...here's the kicker ... I will HONK MY HORN!

Not just a little beep either. I'll lay on that bitch for about five seconds.

Man.

That'll teach 'em.

Don't fuck with the Bank Drive Thru Lane Vigilante.

I'll fuck your hearing UP, dude.


After the bank yesterday, I had to stop by the grocery store to pick up a few things for dinner.

I took a cart with me, but when I was done, I had so few things, that I used the express self-checkout lane.

And the self-checkout paying line was so long that I didn't put the cart back in the cart rack thing.

Okay. That was wrong of me. Had I been a good shopper, I would have lost my place in the checkout lane, walked the cart to the other side of the store, and then walked back and got in line behind 3-4 people who came up behind me.

Rather than do that, I just left the cart there.

...Which REALLY started getting in the way of people as the lines started getting longer.

So I stood there, feeling guilty about the cart getting in people's way. So I pretended that it wasn't my cart and that I couldn't see it.

Okay.

There's this bagger kid at the store...he's been there for years. I think he has Downs Syndrome. He seems to be a nice kid when he's not putting bags of sugar on your eggs, but I've never really talked to him because he wears really thick glasses...the kind where you can't hardly see his eyes because they're so thick and magnified, all you see are his corneas.

The Bagger Kid watched me leave my cart there. Then he just kinda stood there and watched me ignore my cart as it got in everyone's way.

This unnerved me. I kept thinking in my head..."Corky's going to come over here and bite me for leaving my cart in everyone's way."

So I started sending him messages telepathically, because sometimes those mongoloids can pick up on that shit, you know?

So I sent him some messages that said "Quit looking at me, you fuck. If you want the cart moved, move it your own damned self. Move it. MOVE IT!!!"

He never moved it. He just stood there, staring at me. I guess he wasn't one of those special kids that could receive telepathic messages.

I paid for my groceries and hauled ass out the door before the fucker could grab me and drool on my arm.

So you see?

If it wasn't for the job offer yesterday, my day woulda been shit.

Hope we all have a better one than that today.

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