Thursday, April 3, 2008

Chapter 3

The boss-man went on a lot of sales calls. He was never there. He basically left me alone in his apartment, cold-calling a bunch of vitamin manufacturers to get sales leads.

I am going to confess something:

I never made a single call.

Well, I made a few and after a bunch of receptionists and operations managers hung up on me, I stopped caring. I didn’t give a shit about my job. I didn’t give a shit about getting 0.00002 percent commission if the boss-man did get a sale. This is because every time a receptionist or operations manager hung up on me, I felt like I was getting stabbed with a branding iron. It just hurts being rejected even in the smallest of situations especially when you are a highly sensitive person.

So, I stopped calling. The boss-man would come in occasionally I would pretend to do work like organize receipts or put one piece of paper in a folder and then switch it over to another folder. The second he would leave I would spend all day on youtube, perez Hilton, or do stuff for my other part time job.

One day he asked me to organize a bunch of stuff on his desk while he was trying to sell a heating coil to some plant that manufactures fake tits.

I was on the phone with my roommate Ashley, which usually took up a two-hour chunk of my workday, as I was piling receipts from different Holidays Inns in one pile and articles about celebrity-humidifiers in another pile.

Then I saw something very suspicious. It was an AIM chat that he had printed out.

Before I knew it, something pulled my eyes to some key words on the piece of paper:


Oh my fucking God. Who is this creep? And why does he let me work hours that are so compatible to my schedule?

I IMed all of my friends and called Ashley. I told just about every I knew. It was the most stunned I’d been since I once saw two old dudes blowing each other in the Fens my junior year.

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