Day 89 - ...Like a Bat Outta Hell

The bridge where today's work began

July 6th, 2015

I want to vomit. I thought I could do another day of this, and I'm doing everything I can to just will myself out of bed. Baby steps. Shimou makes me breakfast as I get ready (superstar), and I go to the wrong bus stop for the time I wanted to get there for. It doesn’t really matter. Despite all the deliberation, I’ve decided to quit this hell and besides, they never seem to notice the time when we show up. I also have found every morning in the office to be a waste of time wearing “business smart” and giving off the image of professionalism to the new people who were constantly being washed toward the rocks.

Other side of the bridge

I’m swept into a meeting where they make us set goals for the next while. I do so, but they’re nothing to do with this place or the types of goals they want us to set. The weight of the culture there is pretty heavy, which I imagine would be similar for most ambitious sales offices. Has to be. I pull the office manager aside and ask her if I would be paid this week, and that today will be my last day. I was still actually on the fence on my way in, but decided that the amount of dread I felt going back wouldn’t be worth it. I’ll just find a second or third job; to hell with door to door. I’m still not sure if weakness won or if this was the better decision.

Stumbling across beauty

We set off to our destination, Matt, Nat, and Julien. I like all of them, and Julien is pretty cool. I break the news to Matt on the way to the car, and he takes it in stride. I suppose you’d be pretty used to this sort of news working in that environment for 9 months. We split up the territory and go our separate ways to start the day.

I’m phoning it in, man. Lack lustre, and mostly just chatting up people who seem vaguely interesting, like the PoliSci student I purposely wasted time talking with. I realize that this is a waste of time more than it had ever been because I’m hardly even trying. I can’t be seem to will myself to care. I’m counting the minutes in a performance based job, which almost entirely defeats the purpose. I phone Matt, grab my stuff out of the car, and say my farewells to him, taking the hour-long trip home from the middle of Australian suburbia.

On the BlueCAT home, some aboriginal people decided that they didn’t want to walk the single block to their destination (from one of the stops) and think it would be a productive idea to shout at the driver to let them off where they please*. Pretty sure it’s illegal for him to do so, and they call him a “bloody c*nt” and whatever other aussie curses you can imagine. I wish him a better day, and he says they’re not worth thinking about. Whatever works. 

"The Little Best"? What?

Hit the gym, shower, chat with Ricardo, and BlueCAT back to the CBD (Central Business District) to grab some of those $7 T’s at Target. Unfortunately, most of them have run down and the only options are XXL to 7XL. Seven?! Who knew they went that large!? I end up buying a single shirt - the only one I liked and fit well - for $15. Normally I’d walk away from a sale with nothing because I don’t want to fall for their “loss leader” strategy, but some of my shirts are beginning to wear down and get holes. Those salty dogs have seen better days before I came here, trust.

Matt playing with a Puppy
(He's taken, ladies)

Today seems to be a bad day for a number of people. Friends fighting back home, infidelity, and still other things. Closer to where I actually am, Lee’s windshield wipers broke (it’s been raining for days, part of my lacking motivation on the job), a product he needs to ship to customers in China is out of stock, and his Beta Fish disappeared into thin air when he was cleaning the tank. We still don’t know where it ran off to. Oh, and I broke the glass water bottle I had been using for the past couple months. Full moon? Nope; dumb luck.

Due to the broken wiper, we shan’t be going swimming tonight. I go over anyway to hang out, and collect all my laundry, which had been hanging for the past 2 days. They don’t have a dryer, and the rain didn’t help.

The night ends up being pretty productive, helping people back home with some crises, chatting with my dad for an hour, and throwing heaps of spaghetti up on the blog. Another upside to such a terrible job: how great it feels once you’ve left it. My time now feels more exponentially valuable.

*: This sort of occurrence is quite rare, in case you were wondering.