Kind of a Drag

A short update, partially to say thank you for the words of encouragement follwing my last post, so thank you very much. Still jobhunting, beating the bushes for contacts. The wife has gone into attack mode, calling on her network of friends to cough up names at the companies to which I'm applying. I picture her leaning over a giant illuminated Lucite map of Manhattan, positioning miniature footsoldiers, mounting the plan.

The daygig still haunts most of my thoughts, how to lighten my load and remain ethically sound, how to keep my head up. I had to admonish someone the other day who'd been working alongside me from the beginning. He'd given his notice a week ago, he was still the same borderline misanthrope with customers he'd been for the last six months or so, but the other day he flat out called a customer crazy, not joking, not defending himself, just turned to another store patron, indicated the customer in question and spoke loud and clear so she would hear him, "I guess I can't talk to you right now, she's crazy and she wants me to herself." I received the fallout from the customer, called my colleague into the back where he shrugged and didn't hesitate to say it was true. He left for good ten minutes later, after a talk with the boss. I went to lunch right afterward and spent the hour angry that someone I'd known that long, had laughed with and tipped a glass with, would force my hand like that. His behavior, certain to result in a conversation with a superior, came when he knew I was the only manager on duty. If he crossed the line he'd spent a good amount of time pushing back as far as he could, he had to have known I'd have to respond. If it were an innocent comment that the customer had misinterpreted, I'd have defended him. He had no remorse, didn't even blink when I asked if he'd been joking. He didn't care if I had to get an earful from someone he'd abused.

My father-in-law likes to say when he hears of some such transgression against his daughter or I, "There's no shortage of assholes out there."

I got my Nicholl letters yesterday. I had hopes for my two babies, I won't lie. I did think as I was submitting them that it was a long shot since they weren't earnest stories of great import, they're not films, they're movies, meant to be seen with a group of strangers in a theater on a weekend, not screened for Academy members for their consideration, but a quick run through titles of QFs from last year shows what must be more than a few genre films or comedies, so go figure. Greg Beal and his team had a rough go this year from the look of things and still managed to make me feel good about not making the quarterfinals this year. Watch out next year, though, when I unleash an amalgam of "Out of Africa", "Kramer v. Kramer" and "The Bridge On The River Kwai" on them.

Not all is a drag, though. The family is going to Disney in a few weeks for four days and The Prince's birthday is coming up soon. I'm smiling thinking about my family and I'm looking forward to the day my job doesn't seem to come first before them.