Fish Out of Water

So I’m going to make an attempt to write on this thing more often. Once every three months just doesn’t make me look good. I really don’t want to upset my nation of followers. Oh wait. No one reads this.

So point of this post is that I recently got a ‘temporary’ ‘job’ at a title company. I put the words, temporary and job in quotes because a) I have no idea how long I’ll be working there, and b) it’s the shittiest job in the universe.

Here’s what 4 years at an extremely prestigious college gets you. Definitions like this.

Title Company: A title company is responsible for all the complicated shit involved in buying houses and other things of that nature.

And jobs like this. Here’s what I do. Get ready.

My job: Delivering the important shit to the correct people. I transfer checks, titles, big ass stacks of paper, and even the occasional, complimentary fleece to the company’s clients. Who would ever wear one of those.

Oh yeah. Everyone who works at the office. Literally, all the dudes wear logo’d tee’s almost everyday. Short sleeve, golf tee’s. So walking into work everyday, I immediately dismiss everyone I see wearing one as a moron. I don’t even have to speak to them, not that they would be interested in speaking to the delivery bitch, but it wouldn’t matter. If they’re going to come to work EVERYDAY wearing a company golf shirt, then everything else about them is irrelevant. I don’t care what they have to say, what they do, where they went to school or anything like that.

UNLESS

I walk by, like I did today, and hear something like this,

“Yeah, I just don’t know who I should start at quarterback this week.”

WOW.

This is great on multiple tiers. A. it involves sports. B. It involves fantasy sports. If hear them say something, anything, concerning the world of sports. If I hear that, I’m in. I’m a friend. I’m a nice guy who wants to talk. Wants to chit-chat about how Kevin Kolb really isn’t living up to expectations in his relationship with Fitz. Because the key to talking to people who are “above you” is to only talk on subjects you own. I’m not going to try to ‘hop in’ to a conversation about whether or not the city is going to clear a lean on a three story house built in 2007. I don’t really know what a lean even is. Which is the primary reason I would never consider jumping into that type of conversation. Nothing makes a human being look stupider than trying to keep up in a conversation that’s way outside his or her comprehending. You have nothing to contribute. If you have nothing to contribute, why are you standing there.

The best place to be,- in terms of joining a conversation with a group of people who may or may not determine your future,- is in a surplus of knowledge. You need to be able to prepared at any time. They call on you, you gotta be ready. Here’s an ideal scenario.

“Hey new guy, who do you think I should start this week. Legarrette Blount or Frank Gore?”

In this case, I’ve already identified this man as mentally deficient, and I can move on knowing my audience probably doesn’t know much of anything.

(chuckle)”well, you know that Blount hurt his knee and might not even suit up..soooo you’d go with Gore.”

(surprised)”Wait, really? When did that happen.”

Now I’m killing it. He’s asking the questions. I’m the almanac. The guy in the suit and tie with a pocket full of BMW keys is asking the delivery boy about fantasy football…and he’s actually invested in what the boy has to say. I adjust my posture to a more conversational style.

(confident)”Doesn’t matter. He’s out. What you want to do is hit the waiver wire, like right now. Pick up his filler, Ernest Graham, who actually had a very impressive game last week. Like a buck o’five on 13 carries. Something ridiculous.”

He might still be available in your piece of shit league.

He takes off to go grab Graham, and all of the sudden, I’m in demand. It has begun. I am now a desirable source of information for the entire nfl season. King Me.

People who don’t understand fantasy don’t understand this.

But the point of this story is that I’m currently working 40 hours a week in an office building full of people who don’t like the same type of shit I like. Here’s how I know they don’t like my type of shit.

Because if they did, they would know that Legarrette Blount hurt his knee in the Buc’s blowout loss to SF.

If they did they wouldn’t wear company tee shirts every day of the week. Tee time’s not till 5:30. Leave the clima-cool collared tees at the country club.

If they did they would look at me funny when I answer questions like, “Hey Court, you goin to the BSU game tomorrow?” with statements like, “Ahhh, well I don’t have a ticket but I’ll probably wander around the tailgates and drink a ton of free beer.”

And finally, I wouldn’t hear things like, “Well, my (18-year old) son used to play football, but his grades took a little dip sooooo, he’s just going to be focusing on school now.” The kid is 18. You may be ruining his life.

Bottom line is this. I’m a fish out of water. I’m flopping around on the dock. My strange choice in studies hooked me four years ago with it’s temptations of entertaining classes and enjoyment, and has subsequently ripped me out of the water with impracticality and a scarce market of applicable jobs.

But hey, at least I’m not at home all playing zelda all day.

It’s Raining

It’s raining in Boise. Yeah I recently moved back home to Idaho because I failed to secure a full-time job in California. So that was a huge confidence boost.  Now I’m back in Idaho living in my parents’ basement.

I am THAT guy.

It’s great.

I love it.

In other news I’ve just been stood up at a “job interview” for the second consecutive time. I put ‘job interview’ in quotes because I don’t think there’s actually an opening for which I’m applying. I don’t think there’s actually a chance that the interview will end with me signing my name at the bottom of a contract. I doubt that’s what would happen. I’d actually bet all my money on it. Which is close to nothing at this point. It’s just an arranged meeting between some big shot advertising guy who knows my family somehow and always “enjoys advising young graduates”.

Receptionist: “Hi, are you Court?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well unfortunately I’ve got some bad news.”

(beat)

“Jamie got caught up in some stuff today, and we were going to have you talk with Brian, but he ended up going home sick….soooo I’m really truly and sincerely sorry.”

me: “Oh, that’s fine. Don’t worry about it”

“Okay well what’s your schedule look like in the next couple of weeks?”

I dunno Ron, what do you think. It’s pretty much open. I’m getting pissed off thinking about how open it is. It couldn’t be any more open. It’s literally 14 blank pieces of paper. 

“Oh I dunno, I’m pretty available.”

(looking at smartphone, scanning the empty calendar days)

“Whatever works best with you guys.”

“Okayyyyy well lets put you down for Tuesday the 18thhhh does that work?”

“Perfect.”

“Again, I’m very sorry and thank you so much for understanding.”

“Oh it’s fine, I’ll see you in a couple weeks.”

Then I walked back through the rain to my car, sat down in the drivers seat and thought for a couple minutes. Bad thoughts. Angry thoughts. I graduated didn’t I? I have a degree in a related field, or so I’ve been told. Am I that unimportant? I imagine the guy (Brian) feeling a bit queasy and checking his afternoon schedule. He lazily opens iCal. There, right in the middle of the afternoon, right in the middle of the screen, surrounded by freedom, it says “3:30 informational meeting with Court Coman” Then he lets out a huge sigh of relief, packs his shit, goes home & passes out. Maybe he wasn’t even sick. Maybe he was just really hungover. Maybe last night, he looked at that last shot and prayed he didn’t have anything important going on in the afternoon right before he tossed it back. Maybe he ordered another one and did the same thing.

He must’ve gone to church last Sunday. Because the only person he had to piss off was me.

And today actually went better than my previous mishap. Same type situation. I had a “job interview” at 3 pm.

Why are all these things at 3 pm? That’s seems strange. Well, the people at these places are extremely strange, so I guess that lines up.

Again, I’m all dressed up. Slacks, button-up, tie. I don’t normally dress nicely to do shit, so I’m already feeling a bit out of my element. But I think look pretty fucking good at the same time. The emotions balance. I speak with the receptionist. She’s massively overweight and looks like she’s 70. He name is Raylene.

Raylene: “Hello, have you been helped?”

I literally just walked in the front door.

me: “No actually, haha” (kiss ass smile)  “My name is Court Coman and I have an appointment with Greg today..?”

She smashes down in her poor chair and begins scrolling though her calendar.

“Okayyy, let me see if I can go find him”

“Great thanks.”

She disappears for five minutes. Now, five minutes doesn’t seem like a very long time. But when you’re in the waiting room of a potential employer, it really feels like an eternity. That five minutes was enough time that three other employees approached me and asked if I had been helped. I gave the exact same response every time. Not on purpose. But just automatic, nervous, reactionary responses.

Big smile & nod: “Yes I have thank you.”

It was also enough time to closely inspect the array of awards hanging on a nearby wall. I bet I read every plaque 5-6 times each. Couldn’t tell you what a single one said now. Again, just a nervous kid in the waiting room, trying to look engaged. I mean, what the fuck else am I supposed to do? Plop down on the contemporary, uncomfortably looking couch and just hit the light switch for five minutes? No way. I’m pacing around, looking at shit, seeming interested. Little comments to myself,

“oh wow thats cool”     or

“ohhh okay I get it”

Shit like that.

Finally the woman returns. She has an interesting look on her face. I don’t really like it. She throws this at me,

“Well I’ve just called Greg, aaaaand apparently your meeting was scheduled for today at 9”

me: “a.m.??”

Then she nods and raises her eyebrows like, ‘whoopsie’.

My hatred for this woman has tripled in about 3 seconds.

me: “Really? I could have sworn the email said 3 pm”

This meeting was scheduled for 3pm. There is nothing else to it. I’m staring at the confirmation email on my phone while she speaks.

“Well, I really don’t know what to tell you. I guess just give him a call later and apologize and ask to reschedule”

“Oh jeez, well I guess I’ll do that right away. Did he seem angry?”

Gutsy question by me there.

“Nooo, not angry. Just a slip up, nothing to worry about”

“Okay well thank you so much. I’ll make sure to reschedule.”

I’m out the door.

I just paid 5 dollars to park for ten minutes.

Story of my life.

To sum that up, I ended up meeting with the guy two days after and he was cool. Totally weird, but cool. He didn’t have a job for me. Didn’t have an internship. Had advice. Had a couple stories. But nothing else. Another dead end in this maze.

Same song, different bird.

So things have been better. But anger provides humor, and I hope this provides entertainment. Maybe I’ll start doing this more often. I’ve got a lot to be pissed about. lets not talk about my two fantasy football teams sporting a combined 1-7 record. That’s next.

It’s still raining.