KING O' THE TELEMARKETERS

My second day as a temporary telemarketer ... well ... ugh.

The first day there were seven of us crammed in a room, all trying to hear ourselves talk over the din of the others in the room.

The second day? Only three of us.

Four people decided they weren't cut out for the job and didn't come back.

So just the fact that I came back for a second day makes me look good in the temp agency's eyes and maybe my next assignment will be what I want ... sitting at a computer all day and typing.

And for the second day in a row, I got the most people recruited to volunteer for the upcoming event.

Although I was quickly reminded that this isn't a competition.

So I don't act all giddy when I find out that I got more than the other people.

But inside?

I'm bursting with fucking pride, baby.

I'm the best damned telemarketer in the room!

ALL HAIL UNCLE BOB! KING OF THE PEOPLE THAT ARE ABLE TO MAKE TOTAL STRANGERS COMMIT TO VOLUNTEERING FOR A SILLY EVENT TO HELP RAISE MONEY FOR SICK KIDS!!!

Yeeeeeah baby.

I've decided that as much as I hate to do it, I'm probably going to have to get a full time job here soon.

While I had much rather work in the clubs making good money for playing music, the clubs in this town are either sucking hard and can't afford to hire a deejay or they're doing great and the deejays they have know a good thing when they've got it and aren't leaving any time soon.

The club I'm at is sucking hard.

And the only options that are even close to becoming a reality are to work in clubs that are sucking even harder than this one.

But I feel a success story coming just around the corner.

In five years I think I'll be able to say "In 2004, I was working a few nights a week in a club that was going nowhere and being a telemarketer during the day. Now look at me! I'm the most successful jackass in the room!"

Hey, you've gotta have an attitude like that.

It's either that or I'm slashing away at my wrists.

My next goal?

To become the nation's top singing waitress and have drunks throw dimes at me like I'm a human jukebox.

Yeeeeeah.

That's the ticket alright.