Thursday, September 22, 2005

Alyssa's Journal #1

My name is Alyssa May. I'm 28 and I live in Turbot. I work at Grey's on the Office Supply Floor. I'm an Assistant Supervisor. My job is to make sure everyone has all the pens, folders (file and otherwise), staples and stuff that they need. It's as exciting as it sounds.

For some reason, people seem to have the biggest trouble with staple removers. Someone's always taking someone else's staple remover. Why? Christ if I know. You haven't lived until you've had a bunch of office workers standing in front of you arguing over staple removers. It's great. You actually wish you could go deeper underground. Grey's!!

As you can imagine, I don't like the job very much. Oh, it's great when there's no one around. That's what made me start up a journal. I've got seven notebooks filled with this stuff. I'm, obviously, being very selective for this blog. Thank you, Marlene & Arthur!

I think a good example of the sort of fluff nonsense I have to put up with is this... A little something that happened this past morning:

One of our jobs is to open offices and conference rooms for people throughout the building. (It gets us out and about.) For example, T-4 is having a conference in Conference Room 4 from 3-4. We go there at 2:45 and open it up. At 4:15, we lock it. Rez, my supervisor, keeps all the keys. I'm handed keys when necessary.

So, they are having some sort of Training Day for packaging. I'm there at 7:30. No Rez. Gloria comes down at 7:45. "Why isn't the door open?" "I'm sorry. Rez hasn't shown up. He has all the keys." "We need the door open for training." "Gloria, I know. Rez isn't here." "Where is he?" "I don't know." "Do you have a key?" "Rez keeps the keys." "And, he's not here." "Correct." "How are we going to get in?" "As soon as Rez arrives, I'll run down with the key." "You don't have the key?" "I'm not the supervisor. Supervisors have the keys." "Did he say he was going to be late today?" "No." "Do you think he's OK?" "I'm sure he is." "That would be a real reason for being late, wouldn't it?" "What? If he were seriously injured?" "Yes." "You're right." "Well, send someone with a key soon." "Sure."

Gloria left. Thank God. Her silent presence can be tough to take but, God, when she talks to you... It's pretty rough.

So, 5 minutes later, I get a call from Rez. His trailer's power went out and his alarm didn't go off. He'll be here in 15 minutes as he's naked and afraid. "In my desk," he tells me, "2nd drawer on the left, under a file, there's a key to the conference room." "Excellent." So, I grab it and run on up.

Outside the conference room are about 12 people and none of them look happy. "I've got a key." I started opening the door. Behind me, it started. ... "Oh! Look at this!" "She did have a key!" "Oh, well then..." "Hmmm...that's very interesting." And all sorts of junk like that.

I sighed and tried to open the door, minding my own. But, of course, it was a tough lock and after about 10 seconds of fiddling, twelve people were right behind me and watching me closely.

"You've got to turn it! Turn it! Did you turn it?" "Too hard. You're turning too hard." "Don't break off the key! Be careful!" and on and on

The door finally opened but I got the worst case of Stinkeye that anyone that far underground has ever experienced. Gloria went out of her way to stop by the Supply Floor and act as if I had betrayed her. I don't know if it will ever stop.

So, I'm writing this at 1AM. I have trouble sleeping sometimes so what I'll go and do now is stand on top of my trailer. Mr. Lucassen next door'll have his TV on, flashing lights, but there's nothing else happening. I just stand there and let the breeze hit me. It's so nice, especially this time of year. I can feel it against my skin and my eyes close and I take a deep breath and I'm so happy. Five hours all to myself. Time to do what I want to do. Time to pursue the dreams I know I'm supposed to be after. I've stood on that trailer almost every night for the past two years and I don't think anyone has ever seen me. (Unless Mr. Lucassen is peeping.)

Some nights I want to yell. Loud into the wind. Yell for something I don't have... One night I will yell. You'll hear me. Wherever you are.

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