I’ve been putting gas in my tank after every shift I work. Saturday, I got out of the Franchise at 4pm, and stopped at the gas station on my way to the Indy. When I left the Indy, I stopped again at the same gas station. When I fill up my car, I reset the mileage counter and use that to base how much gas to put in her the next time I fill-up — the formula (X miles driven divided by an average of 33 mpg multiplied by the cost of a gallon of gas) has been coming out to about a dime a mile.

I was supposed to get out of work at 2pm today, but wound up staying until 4:30 so that James could leave early. I stopped at the gas station around four o’clock and put fifteen bucks worth of gas into my car — if it’s not filled up, it’s awfully close: the digital display is completely illuminated (then again, it doesn’t usually start checking down until I’ve driven at least ninety miles). Getting home a little while ago, I noticed this article on a bulletin board I read, and particularly, the amount the held-up woman was forced to pump (the same as me, a meaningless coincidence). If there’s a moral here, it’s probably this: the gas companies aren’t the only thieves at the gas stations anymore.

If I hadn’t stayed later, I would not have read this similarly themed article in The Baltimore Sun about risks associated with being in automobile accidents: namely, how you get fucked if the at-fault party doesn’t blab to his insurance company. I read it shortly after getting back from nearly being killed by a package truck whose driver tried to kill me on Paper Mill: listen, asshole, the speed limit is forty, I’m doing fifty, and if you want to veer from one side of the lane to the other, be my fucking guest, I’m sure you’re going to lose your license soon enough (if you haven’t already).

The only good thing about working later today was that it was nice and cool inside the Indy (there’s no air conditioning, aside from the gigantic industrial fan in the back). Gary was working at 5, so Zap and I made sure to do a bit more cleaning than we might have had someone else been working night. When Gary comes in at five, he’s grumpy and pissed off and looking to jump down someone’s throat about anything. I don’t know why he didn’t just schedule himself to open, instead, he scheduled James.

And so James, knowing that he had to be at work at nine, stayed up all night, and apparently didn’t stop drinking until six am. I didn’t know he’d stopped drinking that late, or I’d've refused to work later. If he didn’t stop drinking at six, he was probably still drunk at one (or at the very least when he showed up in the morning). While I’m usually willing to work extra if a coworker is actually sick, I’m not generally so willing to do it for someone who is hungover. You knew you had to work eight hours — why stay up so late drinking?

So when James asked me to work for him, I told him “No.” He offered me five bucks. I wanted twenty. He countered at ten and I accepted.

I really don’t have much of a problem asking for bribes from hungover employees. As I see it, it’s a win-win situation. They get to go drink some more, and I’ve got extra cash in my pocket. Thanks for helping me fill my gas tank, James.

It didn’t take long, at last week’s career assessment, for the counselor to pry out of me “what I really wanted to do” in a career. While I’ve been playing up my business experience on my resume, “what I really want to do” has nothing to do with business - what I really want to do is be a writer.

This isn’t something that just popped into my head one day. Back when I was a kid (as opposed to “a big kid” like I am now), I was a huge Star Trek fan. And while, certainly, I’m still a fan of most of the franchise, I was a huge Trekkie back then. I devoured Star Trek novels like popcorn, and for several years, tried to beat Howard Weinstein’s record as the youngest published Star Trek script writer (he was 19 when his script for Star Trek: The Animated Series’ “The Pirates of Orion”). Clearly, I did not accomplish that goal, although I did spend far too much time in front of the computer hunting-and-pecking away, trying to craft a script for Star Trek: The Next Generation that might earn my name in blue letters up on the television screen.

One of the reasons I began blogging (September 2004) was so that I would be forced to write on a daily or semi-daily basis. I’d been out of regular practice for some time at that point and knew my writing skills (if I had any) needed sharpening. For some reason, I’d previously convinced myself that I wanted to own a pizza shop. I realized that was the last thing in the world I wanted to do and, once a friend had explained to me what a “blog” was (I still don’t think I know), I had the vague notion that I wanted to be “a blog writer” and had the clearly unreasonable expectation that I might, somehow, be able to find a career from it.

Anyway, so what also happened at the career assessment was that I was specifically advised to rewrite my resume to target the industry I desire to work for. So here I am racking my brain for things to put on my resume that might make an employer think “Hey, here’s a guy who can write a lot on a regular basis” and not “Okay, so this guy has experience in restaurant management - why’s he applying for this writing job?”

(While I did not succeed in selling — or even finishing to write — a script for STTNG, I did become a remarkeably fast typist. Back in the fall semester, I was typing on my laptop during my Impact of Computers on Society class. I was using my hunt-and-peck method (100+ wpm), but not with my index features. As the tattooed kid next to me observed, (paraphrasing here, of course) “for typing with your middle fingers, you do so hellaciously fast.” (I don’t think I could put that on my resume, though: “100 WPM using middle fingers”*)

Here’s my problem: I’ve got that thing, that I could put in my resume, and you’re reading it right now, it’s this blog. Here’s my second problem: what employer in their right mind would offer me a job after reading this blog? (That’s what I, and the career counselor, call “A Blog 22.“)

So what does that leave? Fiction writing? I might have a shot — Dr. Avery submitted my final paper (a 10-page fiction assignment) to Towson’s literary magazine, Grub Street. That, of course, is no guarantee of anything (especially since she submitted everyone who chose to write a story), but I still won’t deny feeling a little egotistical about the submission.

Geisha’s been pushing me to write a manuscript about my experience working in the pizza industry. I think she wants me to go in the direction of the memoirs of a bicycle courier we’d both read (I can’t think of the title or author off the top of my head), but I’ve been thinking of a different approach — y’know, work some of the stories of my coworkers into a coherent plot (did I blog yet about the “Coworker Who Peed”? Trust me, the title doesn’t give it away) and try to find a publisher who might be interested in it. I’m thinking I’ll title it “Tales of the Dark Side (of the Crust).”

So, beyond that, I really don’t know where I’m going to go with this project (the book, I mean), but I like knowing that I have it to work on. Today’s June 5th (duh), and I’d like to set the goal of 100 pages by July 5th. Maybe I could even publish it here on the blog - a chapter a week or something. Although I think that might get repetative — “Hey, wasn’t this just yesterday a blog post about this dude trying to poop on that other dude’s head after work?” (That’d actually be part of the “Coworker Who Peed” story…)

And when I’m done, I guess I could finish “Star Trek: Zombie Planet.”

Before any of that, I need to get back to this resume (writing might someday pay the bills, in the meantime, I don’t want a primary job involving pizzas), but that can wait until after I get home from work this afternoon. I’m off to bed.

*“So, why’s the new guy flicking-off the keyboard?”
“I think he’s typing.”
“No way. Really?”

In comments, Matt described yesterday’s post as a “trainwreck”, and maybe he’s right.

Certainly, I won’t blame anyone who decides to stop reading this blog based on that post. I certainly wasn’t expecting for someone to hand me a check to cover all of my college-related debt, but I (still) don’t see a problem with at least asking for that help. And for the record, not currently being employed in a ‘real’ job has very little or nothing to do with my situation — I make more, I’m sure, delivering pizzas than the average entry-level employee earns after taxes (and, Christ, don’t read this as me saying I’m going to keep on full-time with the pizza delivery. I’m sure “pizza delivery” is going to be a second-job of my mine once I am gainfully employed for the near, far, and distant future).

“Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained”, as they say. And regardless of what might have been said or implied in comments, I still believe the reasons and causes of my debt were far more worthy than those of Karyn Bosnak’s.

Thank you to everyone who offered empathy and/or constructive advice on paying off my current debts. More on the steps I’ve taken, and will be taking, later.

*Winning the lottery would’ve helped, though. Too bad I’m too financially smart to waste my money on the lotto! ;)

UPDATE: Cheese is giving me some possibly well deserved shit for my post yesterday. He’s giving me shit for asking for money from the internet, when what he did back in November was … ask for money from the internet. The difference appears to be that I’m a shameless loser, and he’s not. Pretending that this isn’t a matter of semantics is ridiculous.