Administrivia: 25 October 2022

Okay, this one is going to be trivia about the blogger formerly known as Admin, so it counts, even if your eyes are rolling all over your head right now. Cope.

After I got that news about the interview, I went through the weekend and, late Sunday afternoon, I got this message through the Indeed app that someone wanted me to apply for some medical office position. Hadn’t had one of those in a while, usually I hear from recruiter-spammers (they are nearly all just fucking off trying to rack up a quota — they don’t even read people’s profiles when they fire off invitations) and nothing they’re offering is anything I qualify for or would be interested in. I mean, if I’m not interested, there’s no point because I’ll just be job-hopping again, and I did that 20 years ago and I do not want to do that again now. But this sounded marginally okay, so I sent in my app. And chuckled, because it never rains but it pours.

Around this time I also heard back from the same people who did my recent call center class, and they’re doing another thing at a different location where at the end of that class I may be able to get a job at a certain local medical facility. One person telling me about it said maybe, another said definitely. I don’t know the story, but I’m willing to go along since once again it’s free and it’s not like I’m doing any fucking better on my own. And I chuckled again after I signed up because I guess I got a whole-ass weather front up in here.

Anyway, and then I had my interview today, and it was a nice, drama-free, informal interview where they did not ask me any screwy questions. I had thought it was a business a little bit like Swiss Colony which, if you look that up you’ll get the general idea, but this one doesn’t do sets per se. They’ve got roasted nuts, nut butters, popcorn, candies, and several kinds of jam. (Orange and apricot marmalade? Fucking genius.) AND they have a lunch counter that operates every day they’re open except during the holiday season, and you can get several different kind of peanut butter and jelly sandwich (what we Americans call a PB&J). I haven’t had one in years, but I’m going to fucking try one there before the lunch counter closes for the season. (The ladies who run it are needed in the back when it gets really busy.) Because…

…I HAVE A JOB. Until 21 December, BUT STILL.

It was amazingly quick. They asked me if I was willing to start immediately and I said absolutely (are you kidding???), and they said they’d call my rep back today, which they did, apparently right before I sent her my email saying “I thought it went well, I’m very interested,” which she thought was amusing. I start Thursday, because I need to make sure a few monthly bills will be paid on that day because the 27th is when they usually hit. So I’ll be doing a full day’s driving tomorrow to get that wrapped up.

Beeeeecause… I got the bad brake fixed. WHEW. It was around $630, and I’m still pissed off that they ended up charging nearly twice what my discount app said it would cost (the discount app did say it wasn’t taking rotors into account in its estimate, but I’m having a hard time believing rotors were worth almost doubling my bill, especially when you are supposed to replace brake rotors when you replace the pads… I could be wrong, though), but the shop guys themselves were awesome, and I’ve been tooling around town for hours in blessed silence. Well, actually, I could stand to get a tune-up too because it’s also running rough, but no one said anything about that so I’m guessing it isn’t the mechanical equivalent of “pathological” yet and I still have time to get around to it. Mechanics will mention shit they notice. Believe me. Pads out the sale. I asked about the caliper again, though, because I’ve driven the car about half a dozen times since last week, but it was still completely fine. WHEW. The guy I signed in with said he’d worried about it. I agreed. Was damn near terrified, actually. Glad that’s sorted.

And then I had a bit of a turn, and it made me laugh a lot, so I have to share with you.

Long story short, I began the day thinking I was less than ten dollars up from being able to pay for my room (as in, I had the full amount plus ten bucks), and had around a quarter tank but not really because I’d gone several places on that quarter tank and it was probably more like at a sixth of a tank. Panic. Panic. Death and destruction. I decided to get some gasoline and then drive to make up the difference so I could get my room.

So I’m out doing that and kind of proud of myself and about the time my phone battery had about had it (I’m having problems charging it in my car, and trying not to think too hard about that), I had more than $50 racked up. Okay, cool. That puts me way into the clear and I should be able to get some food too. I’ll still have enough gas to rack up some money tomorrow before I have to tank up again. COOL.

So I pay the room, and then I decide to look at my account again to see how much wiggle room I have…

Oh, no big deal, I have about $125.

Exsqueeze me?

Baking powder?

I was SO CONFUSED. Where the fuck did this extra $100 come from?

And then it hit me.

LOLLLLLLLLLLLLL

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I had been going around with it in my head of “I need $300 for the room, I need $300 for the room,” and somehow this had morphed into $391.99 in the back of my head even though the actual amount is $291.99 every week. So there I was with just over $400 thinking “oh shit I’m less than $10 away from not having enough for the room AND I NEED GAS” and that basically colored all my decisions for the day. AND I WAS $100 AHEAD.

It’s okay. Rather make an accounting error in my favor than not in my favor. And I will never find $100 at random in my imaginary pocket ever again, so I better savor this. Also, had I known I was $100 ahead, my lazy ass would have stayed home and I’d have ended up struggling somehow, I know it. So I got to fool myself into being responsible. And the hilarious bit was I had had this nagging voice in the back of my head going “but I’m $100 ahead… no wait, I’m not $100 ahead… fuck, I’m not $100 ahead… but I’m $100 ahead!” and just repeating that cycle over and over again. Well, NOW I KNOW WHY.

If Rory thinks he’s “daft” he should get a load of me. Hooooo boy. I shouldn’t be allowed outside without handlers. I was telling my best friend since age 8, who is a social worker, the other day that I would have been better off with a social worker following me around my entire adult life and I was only half fucking kidding. Good times.

Okay. I’m done for now. I just didn’t want to leave it all hanging. I don’t know about you, but I hate loose ends. ‘Later.