  Went to what felt like the Ass End of the Universe Wednesday, and walked the entire circumference of ass. Pink and me did the walking, and suffered the inevitable hip, foot and leg pain that followed. WHY are all port towns on a hill? I ask merely for information. Long story short: We came (7.00am-9.00am), we waited, (9.00am-11.00am) we walked, (11.00am-12.30pm, 12.30pm-4.30pm) we sucked. (All hours inclusive) Not a sale, not a person, not the remotest whiff of a possibility of talking to another human being.
Pink complained endlessly, I sulked. Continuing my sulking vein, I pretended to sleep all the way home last night. Pink wailed on how the day�s work made us look bad, as we gained no sales, and Hairy gained five. I sulked. We got home, and two sales were waiting for me, pretty as you please. Sulking ceased.
Went to sleep, woke up around five am, and stayed awake until approximately 9.30am. Fell asleep after I gained the knowledge that we were not returning to Ass End yesterday, talked to a client, and called tech support. Awoke around 1.30pm. Boss Man left three messages all in the tune of-you-never-call-me-back-you�ve-got-to-help-yourself and it�s-far-too-late-for-to be-in-bed. Called him back, explained my schedule, he hemmed and hawed, and there is the distinct possibility I�m on his shit list now. Went out to sell locally in the falling wet slushy snow around 2.30, came back at 4.30, no sale, one near-accident, and three people telling me the had a problem with our company, as the company put Its foot into their ass.
Makes me wonder what my predecessors did to these trailer dwellers. No calls tonight, alas, and today; I�m back in Ass End, meeting Boss Man and Supreme Boss Man for breakfast tomorrow. The time of this meeting would be about 9am, so I must arise at the golden hour of 6.00am (It is 0600 hours. What does the 0 stand for? Oh my God, it�s early. ) The need for meaningful employment is pressing down on my senses.
It�s not like this job is torture, but its sheer meaningless makes me want to hork. I can�t get into funky salesgirl mode because, well, I suffer a profound amount of apathy when I consider the product. And the ambitions of my co-workers; to be Sales Rep of the Month, I find pretty laughable. I can�t seem to make myself take pride in the work I�m doing. Picky, Picky, you may be thinking. And, I suppose, you�d be right.
However, as I consider the alternative of becoming all peachy with a big heaping side of keen on selling crap-in-a-box, I think, �Hey. Good. I�m not supposed to be all happy about being in retail for the rest of my life. This must mean something vaguely positive.� But, seriously, wouldn�t I be the luckiest carbon-based life form on the planet if sales were my thing? The love of my life? Wow-wee, would things be looking up in both the finances and the self-worth department.
(And JP, self worth in this instance is tied in to being successful financially. ) Go here: urlLink You know what though? Yick. That thought appeals to me almost as much as having maggots for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the rest of my life, all 250 years of it. I�d rather be me, starving writer wannabe, beloved of Kurt, than a hunk-a-hunk-a burning sales rep with piles of money to roll around naked in. As for the water under the bridge thing, I�m going to be the mature person I know is lurking in here somewhere and not mention it to that psycho hose beast who besmirched my name.
I�m going to sulk about it, probably write maudlin poetry about betrayal, then go have a nap. It�s not like the same thing hasn�t happened to me, you, the guy down the street, your neighbour�s dog, among others ten thousand times, right? No need to dwell, hold a grudge, use voodoo dolls, etc. Well, that�s it, that�s all. Off to Ass End I go, to sell dishes, and freeze my own ass end off. 
