My alarm clock has, after sixteen years of service, reached the point where I find myself asking, “They shoot horses, don’t they?” I’ve already got a .38 round picked out to provide the coup-de-grace to what has been, until recently, a slowly deteriorating state.

I got this alarm clock many years ago — I remember having it in middle school, and if memory serves, it was a Christmas gift from my Aunt Peggy. I’m trying to figure out when this would’ve been, and my memory doesn’t easily recall, but it had to have been 1989 or 1990. The deterioration began slowly — first, the tape deck broke. Only a few years ago, the control buttons became unresponsive — turning on or off the radio requires a firm manipulation that can possibly only be described as “molestation.”

In addition, the buttons which control the times for the dual-function settings began to deteriorate. The button that allowed minutes to swoosh past quickly did so faster, and the button that was supposed to jump minute-to-minute became fast, too. Eventually, it became impossible to set the radio for 7:30am and the alarm for 8. I had to settle for the closest approximations I could find — last Thursday, my radio started at 7:29 and my alarm at 8:03. Today, however, was the final straw.

I don’t have class today, but I did need to wake early to drag myself to Brooks-Huff Hunt Valley and get a new set of tires before work. One of the perks of pizza delivery is that you go through vehicle parts a lot faster than you might otherwise - in this case, I think it has been a year (or less) since I last bought tires (I go through them quickly). Anyway, when my radio went off, I felt more sluggish than usual, and was shocked and irritated to see the time on the digital display: 5:37, a full two hours early.

Realizing I couldn’t depend on the alarm clock anymore, I set my cell phone’s alarm and went back to bed. Much to my surprise, the alarm on the alarm clock worked just fine as well, so with a dual alarm beckoning me to wake, I did, deactivated both, and got in the shower, only to emerge to the alarm clock going off … again.

As I type this, my car has been pulled up in front of the lobby windows, and I can see brand new tires with wonderfully new traction on them. I’ve got two hours before work, and an appointment at the alarm clock section of Target. I need to replace an alarm clock that worked well for near on two decades, and I know that whatever I buy today, it will last not nearly half as long (’cuz modern stuff is shit).

Next month, it’ll be four years since I started at the Indy. I still remember my job interview: the phone rang, I picked it up, the store manager asked me if I was still interested in driving there, and when I said “yes” he told me to show up at five on the following Tuesday.

Somehow, I don’t think my next job — y’know, my first “real” job — will have quite as easy a job interview. Towson has a career center designed to help soon-to-be-graduates and alumni find jobs. Unfortunatly, the mock interviews are scheduled while I’ve got my Tuesday night class later this month, and I’m unwilling to skip. Hopefully, a couple of experienced hirers from the blogosphere will consent to performing that function. There are also career fairs coming up in the next few months, and of course, I’ll be making an appearance.

I had been joking that all I was looking for in a job was a fairly-decent paycheck, a cubicle, and a requirement to wear a tie. The more I think about it, though, I think I’d like to find a job at my soon to be alma-matter. Not as a teacher, but maybe something in the administration building or academic advising. I’m not saying I’m limiting my options to Towson, but I did browse their job openings the other day, and I plan on doing that on a weekly basis.

I’d have a hard time quantifying why I’d like to work at Towson, and saying “I’d like to pay something back” doesn’t seem quite seem accurate considering the high cost of tuition, books, and parking.

On the bright side, who doesn’t like tuition remission as a job benefit?