AJ asked me how the new job was going. Now that he’s finished Safeword, he’s becoming aware of things around him again. 🙂
So I told him about Cleavage Girl. She’s twenty-three, has long hair colored red, and every other day, bursts into tears over some drama or other. I’ve named her Cleavage Girl (CG) because she wears club clothes to work which often bare half her tits. Backless, (mostly) frontless, see-through… much of it inappropriate for a professional place of business, but the boss never says a word to her, and when CG twirls in front of her desk to show off a new dress, she says, “Very nice” or “I like that color.”
We work in a gorgeous brick house (the boss and her husband live upstairs), and few customers visit, so what the hell, right? Except CG is in the process of covering herself in tats. A devotee of ink, she takes time off work to add to her collection. Yesterday, she showed me the new color that had been added to what is going to be a full sleeve when it’s finished. There are words crawling up and down the inside of her arms. Geometric shapes and designs cover much of her legs.
I’m not a fan of tats. I have none and don’t plan to get any. I’m old enough to realize I get bored easily, so any tat I’d get today, I would regret in six months. Also, bodies change with age, and something that looks terrific now might look like shit in twenty or thirty years when the skin has stretched or you’ve gained a few pounds you never said you would.
She’s twenty-three. Her brain hasn’t developed to the point where she thinks things through completely yet. ;/ I’d hate to be there on the day she wakes up, looks at herself in the mirror, and realizes she totally fucked herself up. Or maybe it will happen when someone turns her down for a job because all the employer can see are tats and not the person behind them. It’s another form of discrimination, but it would be ridiculous to think it doesn’t exist.
And then there’s the Church Lady. Unlike Dana Carvey, this woman is, uh, over-sized and is the one employee in every office that knows everything about everyone’s job and doesn’t hesitate to say so. Yesterday, CG was complaining about all the stress in her gravelly bitch voice–the one she uses most of the time, even on the phone–and Church Lady said smugly, “You haven’t been here long enough to know what stress is.” Church Lady has been there fourteen years.
CG mumbled something under her breath that sounded like “Twat.” CG has been there three years.
Church Lady ends every other sentence with, “… and then I went to church.” I’ve gotten the distinct impression she practically lives there. For all I know, maybe she does. Most of you know I’m an atheist, so you know I’m keeping my mouth shut about this. Never rile the One Employee Who Knows Everything About Every Job. It will only lead to disaster of <ahem> biblical proportions.
There’s one other guy in the office, but we haven’t had a chance to talk much. He runs the criminal checks on the applicants, which means he spends the bulk of his days at the courthouse. All I know is he’s married, has lost most of his hair–making him look far older than he probably is–and just graduated from college.
The boss is the coolest person there. She supports marriage equality, is very liberal, and as you can see from the above, pretty much lets people do what they want as long as the work gets done. I like her quite a lot.
The work itself will become tedious. It’s pretty much the same old thing, day after day, and at this point, I see it making my opinion of people take a nosedive. I’m amazed at how few escape the background check unscathed. Let that be a lesson to you: everything you do, everything you’ve done, is online and can be found. Stiffed a few landlords in your time? FOUND. Wracked up some DWIs? FOUND. Been charged with shoplifting or theft? FOUND. Lived at twenty addresses in ten years? FOUND. Didn’t pay your medical or cable bills? FOUND.
Your life is an open book. Live it like everyone is going to read all about it… because we are reading it.