Saturday, July 19, 2008

Sorry for the blackout period.

In short, since my last post I've left my job after only six weeks due to the fact that the position was oversold and misrepresented to me. Not only that, I was going home with headaches every day due to the obnoxious "music" from this station played at a high volume in the office. Yes, I asked management to rectify it. Their solution, and mind you that they were in offices and didn't have to endure it, was for me to buy headphones since they approved of having this music in the office. You see where I'm going here. I just didn't write well to songs like, "I Kissed a Girl," and Britney Spears remixes, replete with coworkers singing along. Fine that Lil' Wayne got licked like a lollipop and Soulja Boy wants to Superman that Ho, but I don't want to hear it blasting in my ear at work. Or, at all. Ever. And no, I'm not kidding. Even with $100 noise-canceling headphones that I bought especially to block out the crap, KCRW's cool independent music was no match for keeping that tripe at bay and offering me a conducive work environment. Add that to the colossal disorganization of the place and you've got a lose lose situation.

On Tuesday, with four days left in the job, I drove to work and had gotten all the way downtown when I turned around and went home. It was very out of character for me. I take jobs very seriously and always strive to do what's best for my employers. However, because of their inability on many levels to provide a decent work environment, to describe the position properly and act professionally, meaning, run the place like a business instead of a sorority house, it led me to end things early. It wasn't some big moment or triumph. Movie music didn't cue as I turned the car around among the graffiti-stained buildings and build into a crescendo as I drove home. It just simply was. Two weeks ago I'd told my supervisors that I had decided, after only four weeks in the position, to leave my job. This was after a few meetings where I voiced my frustration and tried to rectify a process and fix with management. The last revealing there had been a miscommunication in the job responsibilities. My supervisor literally said to me, "Anne, you're in the wrong job." They left it up to me and everything was amicable until Monday where they blew it big time. That led me to Tuesday.

So, here I am again having to look for work. I'm certainly disappointed, but frankly, I'm more pissed off as I feel the entire six weeks was wasted time and that I was unnecessarily put through a crappy experience. It's not even going on my resume. Too bad, as I had expected a nice long-term job at a company where I could make a great contribution. During the short time I was there, two other people transferred out of the department.

Just sayin'.

Last Friday, Shannon and I went out to the Velvet Margarita in Hollywood, then to another bar right next door. I was walking by a man who had an interesting looking telephoto video camera and asked him about it. He was African-American with a bald head, hardened look and a pot belly with a couple large bags slung over his shoulder. He turned around and scrutinized me for a second. After he came to his decision about me, he turned around and told me about the camera. There were tons of people around, but right away I could tell there was something off about him. He looked at Shannon, who had become interested, not to mention concerned that I'd engaged this man the way I had, and held up another camera that he said he'd sell to him for $60. Shannon was interested in seeing the video camera, and the guy began to give us a very interesting sales pitch.

MAN: This here's from mother fuckin' Japan. Won't be here for another two weeks. Four-hundred dollars if you want it.

ME: Where did you get it?

MAN: I ain't answering no questions.

As Shannon and the man looked over the camera, which he wouldn't let Shannon hold, another two men passing by came up to look at it. Our salesman gave them a quick look and dismissed them.

MAN: This don't do shit. It don't take nothin'. It's just a movie prop.

MAN 2: (trying to intelligently engage) Oh, well I just find it fascinating.

MAN: It don't take shit. Just a prop. Ain't nothin' to see.

The two men walked a few steps away, then watched as the man turned on the camera and interviewed us about the recent Laker's loss. He took a couple pictures of us as well, then played back the video that very obviously had just recorded us.

Apparently, the two men hadn't passed the smell test. Shannon had no intention of buying the camera as it was obviously stolen. Someone was hurting over their loss and we weren't going to fund the black market by patronizing anyone who had a slick camera to sell. He was just interested in the functions, being a photographer. And, both of us in the experience of this man who had surfaced from the underworld.

By the time that Shannon had seen enough, the man dropped the price to $200. He declined, citing that the man couldn't show him all the features that he was curious about. Again, he had no intention of buying it. It was just an excuse.

MAN: (undeterred) Okay. I gotta go smoke some crack.

And off he went into the night.

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