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11:18 a.m. - 2004-10-30


Whenever anyone has come up to me and said "Hey Sparky ... what was the least amount of time you've ever spent at a job?" I'd always be quick to answer "Who the hell are you calling 'Sparky', dude?"

Then, once clarification was determined and it was in fact me that was being addressed, I'd rub my chin as if I actually had to think of such an answer and say "I was an aluminum siding salesman for 20 minutes once."

I was hired, I showed up for work on Monday morning and the day started with a meeting amongst all the salespeople. One guy started bragging about how he had duped an elderly woman into buying siding when she didn't need it and then boasting of the commission he made off Granny and I quit right there and then, saying "I don't think I want to work here."


THAT'S the shortest amount of time I've ever spent at a job.

You know ... until this week.

For now I can say that the shortest amount of time I've ever spent at a job was ... well ... honestly I don't think it can be measured. I guess I can say that I quit before I started.

Yes, I got a job offer on Wednesday. One that I was perfectly happy with and accepted. I took my drug test and was going to start on Monday and everything would be right with the world.

Then on Friday, I got a call from someone else offering me a job that I really wanted more. More money, better hours, more flexibility and closer to home.

So I took it.

And I called the first job offer and graciously declined the position, going so far as to offer to pay for the drug test that I took for a job I never even went to.

The guy was really nice and said he respected my decision, which is corporate speak for "YOU DIRTY SHIFTY FUCK!!"

But ... and here's the catch that's really got me freaking out.

While the new job has been offered to me, I technically don't have it yet.

First I have to have all my references speak highly of me.

Edweird?? Wendigo?? This means you guys.

Second, I have to pass a tuberculosis test.

I'll be honest, I know nothing about tuberculosis. I know you cough a lot and develop a jones for walking around with a tank strapped to your back and tubes up your nose. But that's the extent of my tuberculosis knowledge.

I can at least attest to the fact that my coughing level is probably normal and that I have no desire to shove tubes up my nose and breathe through them on a daily basis.

So I may not have tuberculosis.

But if I DO have it, then I'm shit outta luck. I won't get hired by the new job, the old job thinks I'm a flake and won't hire me and I'm right back where I was.

Oh. By the way ... the job is still a courier position, but with a different company handling different things.

And no ... I'm not a pizza delivery guy.

It's medical stuff. Apparently, I'll be squiring baggies o' piss across the city or something.

How utterly ironic.

And I have to use my own car. Which is cool in one respect because I can load up the 12 disc CD changer each morning and jam out all day long as I cruise around town with vials o' piss next to me and actually get paid for it.

But my car, a '95 Dodge Intrepid, has 110,000 miles on it already.

And I'm NOT Johnny Fix-It when it comes to the car conking out on me.

So it may be time for a new used car.

We'll see.

Let's just make sure I get hired first, huh?

Yo, Sorority gals at the University of Alabama ... I'm coming your way tonight to rock your socks off.

And, as always, I'll have a full recap here on Monday morning.

You guys have a good weekend.

And remember to set your clocks back tonight, goddammit.

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