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Other Sucky Fields of Employment

Last night I dreamt I was in an endless series of plane crashes. They were little dinky planes, but planes all the same. We landed in water every time, coming to a jolting halt as water gushed in through the windows and doors.

'Did you sleep ok?'� Angus asks as I wake up.

'Kafka dreams.'� I croak, smoothing the sandman out of my eyes. 'Plane crashes. Kind of like my career.'�

'�Hmm. And us about to go on holiday.'� He replies.

'No worries. We survive the impact. I land in lakes filled with alligators.'�

'Oh excellent! We survive then!'� he says brightly.

So it's a Toastie Wednesday and it's already feeling very toastie indeed. After wrestling my ass out of bed and seeing that I already had emails waiting for me in my inbox that would piss me off, I get ready. Once dressed, I realize I am dressed like a monochromatic wet dream, but at this point I simply don't care. I head out to the car to scrape off the ice-once again I have limited time to get to the train station and work to do before my meeting starts. I have three meetings in a row then, ideally, I really do need to leave since I have scheduled and cancelled my yearly woman doctor check-up three times now, and nothing says 'Party!'� like an afternoon pap smear.

It doesn't help that I am in the throes of PMS so severe that I would wipe out whole sections of rainforest if I thought it would alleviate the symptoms.

The ice on the windshield won't budge. I keep trying to chip it away. I was hoping to do both cars-I know ice scraping is Angus' hate job so I like to surprise him-but this was super ice, the Arnold Schwarzenegger of ice, more tenacious than Bob Saget at a Cub Scout meeting. It just wouldn't come off on the all-important circles that would be the driver's line of sight. I keep trying then start screaming at the car. I am yelling at the car and on the verge of tears, and I think: Oh yeah. You're handling this stress well.

So now that I'm on the train, dressed as a colorblind darling, heading to London to enjoy a day of Microsoft Project and arguments before spreading my legs and having more KY inserted than I had in the entire duration of my college years, I start thinking: OK, my job sucks. I have had sucky jobs before, and I likely will again. Suck jobs happen. My mind starts wandering to other potential Suck Jobs, and with my ice scraping on my mind, I latch onto an idea of a Sucky Job. In my escapist mind, I write up a diary of what it would be like to have this Suck Job-working as a penguin research Ph.D. candidate in Antarctica.

Oh yeah. That'd suck.
******************************

Day One

I land here at the outpost full of thrilling anticipation. This is what I have wanted my entire life. This is what I worked double shifts at the Gap to pay for, this is why I expurgated my family, who mocked my suitability to cold environments and told me that my youth spent raising yucca plants in Death Valley would make living in Antarctica a fool's dream. Ha! I will show them! I am here to study penguins. Penguins-perfect little bowling pins of biology. I go to the zoo all the time and stare at them, mesmerized. Their sleek swimming skills, the fact that the females are a bit chubby but the men don't care, the fact that the men take care of incubating the egg. Perfect symbiosis. I will make the penguins here my friends. They will love me and follow me around like the Aviary Jane Goodall. I don't mind that I am alone on this outpost as the other scientists are on a cruise to Acapulco-I enjoy my solitude and their not being here proves my utmost dedication to this project.

It's definitely cold here.

Time to unpack.

Day Two

Have spent some time locating various colonies of penguins. There is one colony that I think will be my main focus group, a group I shall name ZX2-F1. It's important not to assign human emotions to these animals as it may corrupt my data. The penguins wouldn't let me get close, but soon I think they will. They will. Animals love me, after all-look at Chad's dog Scruffy? He liked me. Surely that's a perfect barometer of potential animal affection for me.

The accommodation here is basic but clean. Never before have I had to go to bed fully dressed. That was interesting, and hopefully over time I will learn to actually be able to sleep in this situation. Going to the toilet is hell though-my beaver frosted right over within seconds of exposure to the air, so I had to crack the ice to pee through. Ha! And they called me the Ice Queen in college! Ha!

Awfully cold out there.

Day Four

I tried to get close to ZX2-F1 but the possible lead penguin, the one I numbered Z1-Alpha, wouldn't let me close. I will keep trying-they'll like me when they get to know me. Must study the penguins-perfect creatures.

It's really cold. No, I mean really cold. As in: Kill People Cold. I hadn't expected to be this cold. I also hadn't expected to wish other people were around. I can see the solitude may be affecting me, so I will just go talk to-er, I mean observe-Z1-Alpha.

Later

Bob-I mean Z1-Alpha, sorry, of course I should only call him Bob in my head, not my notes-chased me away again. I will work on it. Am sick of packaged food. Longing for M&Ms. I'll even take just one M. I could also do with some sex but there's no one here and am not tempted to have hand freeze to minge. Would also mean I'd have to break the ice down there, but that's one area that I don't want an ice pick near. Could read penguin research book but wish I hadn't been so practical about books-I could've done with a bodice ripper novel.

The cold is just so cold.

Day Eight

Bob keeps chasing me away! I keep trying to get close to him. Is it me? Is it my clothes, my perfume? Is it my iced-over beaver? Bob, why won't you like me, why? No one ever likes me! Oh Bob! We could've been so great together!

I can't stop crying from the horrible cold! Hell hath frozen over and I am living on it!

Day Ten

Penguins are not cute little items of biology-they're fucking evil, smelly creatures. They're foul and hateful and want to kill me. I hate penguins. Hate them! How could I ever have thought about throwing my life away to study fucking penguins! Chad wanted to marry me! Chad! And yes-even though he had the weird webbed toes thing and wouldn't eat if his food groups were touching each other, he was a much better option than throwing it away on fucking BIRDS! They don't deserve studying! Debating eating the little flippered bastards, but can't-I'm a vegetarian.

God I need a shag.

Fucking cold.

Day Twelve

You know, penguins are vibrator-shaped, if you look at them at a certain angle. Hmm...

Day Fourteen

Cold.

Day Fifteen

Cold.

Day Sixteen

Cold.

Day Eighteen

Penguin flambé. Penguin tartare. Penguin casserole. Penguin fillet steaks. Penguin stew.

Day Twenty

Dr. Anderson here. I have found the journal that Helen left behind, although there's no sign of Helen. There are an awful lot of beaks and feet lying around, an ice pick, and one unfortunate penguin that appears to have had two double-AA batteries stuffed up it. Can only assume she's gone back to the States with her research complete.

******************************

Fantasy aside, my Suck Job is still pretty suck right now.

-H.

Posted by Everydaystranger at January 26, 2005 09:32 AM .

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