Coffee and Instabilities.

"At rising tide you're looking fresher than a July Bride; we're picking up what our mothers always stigmatized. The field is right for reaping."


It's a late night tonight. The coffee, the coversation, the cigarettes, and the late night our prelude my inner workings towards dream-starved nights of sleep again. Translation: bad sleeper. You've got to give props to the english language for its constant ability to outdo itself over and over and over.

So I once worked this telemarketing job. Apart from the, of course, depressing presence that it is to be working at such a place, (for those of you who have) it had its little wobbly bits that made it extra shitty, but slightly humorous. First of all, I sold over the phone (of course) these little things called "Shopping Spree Cards" and they were titled by the city they were sold in. Anyways, you get blah, blah, blah something like $2 to $3,ooo in goods and services for the small fee of only about $65. I don't care to recall too much of this place, because then I will just and rant and rave about a million different instances that would better be experienced than told, and as you can already tell, I can't tell a story for shit. Anyways, I'm thinking of a specific instance one time while working there upon going over some old notes I made on a little pad I had used while I was there.
We had this manager, fresh into the company, that used to sell cleaner or some bullshit, and the big boss some him doing his thing on the streets one day and approached him, asking, "Son, how do you sell so much of that stuff?" Blah, blah, blah, they hit it off like a couple of girlfriends and the bossman just had to have him working for him. This magician of sales went by the name of TJ. Dumb fuck of a name, if you ask me. I mean, I guess the guy can't really help it, but I'm sure "TJ" stands for something much more practical. All those sales assholes always like shorter names. I guess they think its hip or something. SO TJ comes on the scene, fresh off the streets, telling us all this new, amazing shit that is going to double our sales and get us excited about our growth potential. Well, after many lofty speeches and all that crap, we got back down to selling, only we had a few alterations to the routine. Everytime we made a sale, we were bade to ring this little bell and yell, "JUICE!" as a sort of inspiration to the rest of the whoring herd of jabber-mouthed pushers. J.U.I.C.E. stood for Join Us In Creating Enthusiasm. How. Fucking. Stupid. Everytime, and this motherfucker would monitor us to make sure we said it. Shortly after this incident I decided it was decided that my time was over with this fair firm of the phone. One day I walked into his office and plainly said, "Hey TJ, I gotta tell ya, I don't really think this whole telemarketing business isn't my thing, so I'm going to go ahead and mosey my ass on outta here." I quit, and it was glorious. But... That wasn't really the best part of it all. The best part was that about a month later I found out that the bossman's golden boy, the prodigal salesman, Mr. TJ had been using the company's computers to operate about a hundred different pornographic websites while working there and keeping everyone JUICE'D. Glorious. Of course he was fired.

That's the telemarketing story. I told you I can't tell stories for shit. If anyone else had told it it would probably have been a regular riot. I'm more of an improv sort of fella. Ah well, strong suits, right?

I am still entirely too wired from the coffee and what not, so I'm going to rock back and forth in my chair for about half an hour, kick my shoes off, and take that long lay-down into dreamland, dancing in with tap shoes and tapestries of atop my tepid thoughtpool brain-spout. If you can disect that one I'll give you a cookie for being cooky. Get it? Ha. Ha. Ha.


Goodnightalready.