I’m waiting for my boss to get here. For the most part, the booth is pretty cleaned out, and the only thing left to do is the audit and dropping some stuff off at his store. He should be getting here in about a half-hour and then I get to go home!

Woo!

When I returned from lunch yesterday afternoon, my phone was ringing. I answered it, only to discover one of my least favorite customers was on the other end of the line.

“Crystal,” she says with that stereotypical Rhode Island accent that sounds like a cross between South Boston and Mike Myers’s “Coffee Talk” SNL sketches, “this is Helene*. Tell me, does this phone have voicemail.”

Cringing at the sound of her voice I tell her that all of our lines automatically come with voicemail at no charge. “How do I use it?” she inevitably asks before I can give her my voicemail-for-the-lootomized directions. I explain how all she needs to do is hold down the 1-button and follow the prompts when it’s connected. “Thank you Crystal, you’re a dear,” she says and hangs up.

She calls back less than 2 minutes later. “It says I’m connected, but it’s not showing anything, no prompts like you told me to look for.”

Firmly believing that this woman’s blonde dye has been leeching her braincells since birth and picking up on her use of the word “look”, I ask her “Did you listen to what the prompts said?”

“No, do I have to listen to the phone? It doesn’t just come up on the screen?”

*facepalm*

First of all, I’ve been in a funk this past week. As much as I’d like to not be in one, I am, and until I figure out exactly why, then everyone will need to just deal with it. I’m thinking that it stems from the fact that no matter what we do, we can’t seem to get our bills paid on time (or at all half the time, for that matter). My mom’s been waiting to go to the aquarium to play with the penguins since Christmas, and we never have the cash to do it, because not only does it require $50 or so to get her into the penguin program, but it’s another $15/person just to get into the aquarium to begin with.

Adding to the money issues is the upcoming wedding anniversary. I feel this need to match prices with Eddie’s gift to me. I know that what I originally planned on getting him will make him happy, even if it’s a lot less than something that I know he’d really like to have, but doesn’t really need. But I know he’s spent all this money on me, and I feel bad knowing that right now, I just can’t do the same for him.

Oh, and lets not forget the latest in the long line of bullshit to break on the car. As I was driving home yesterday, I heard something that sounded just not right with the right-rear tire. Sure enough, when I found a spot to pull over, I’ve got a giant screw in the tire. Great. Just fucking great. The tire is very slooooowly leaking air. So we’re riding on Fix-a-Flat until I get paid tomorrow, when I can get it plugged up.

Plus, there’s work that I just don’t like all that much. I know that if it was supposed to be fun, they wouldn’t call it work, but there’s got to be some point where what you do can be considered enjoyable, unless you’re the guy who individually tests each and every rectal thermometer. But really, nothing I do there is any fun at all. I take about 20 calls a day or so, broken down like this:

• 10 people calling to find out where their lighter is
• 5 people calling to find out where to send their lighter because they’re too stupid to figure out how to fill it
• 5 people calling to bitch that the lighter we returned to them worked for a month, until they needed to refill it and then it stopped working (because they’re too stupid to figure out how to refill it)

Tit work, as my old supervisor at eFortress used to say.