Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Drug Testing - Lil' Jon Style
At around noon today I was taking a piss in a dirty stall in the back of "Chu's Chinese Fast Food," when I suddenly thought that a slightly pinkish tinge had glinted across my eye.
"Jesus," I though, "At this rate it would be easier to count the orifices I'm not bleeding from."
But no, it was actually just a trick of the harsh florescent lights bearing down over my head. Either way, nothing would surprise me anymore.
Not even being awoken Saturday afternoon at 4:30pm by a call from my Call Center Manager - when my shift started at 1:30. At the time it didn't even phase me. I had bigger things on my mind. Like the world's worst hangover.
Not only was I hung over in a way that few people can imagine, I was also near fucking lame from a brutal ankle sprain I had incurred the night before, when I had infortuitously missed the final step on a set of stairs inside the club I had been at.
When the injury occurred it hadn't seemed so bad, but the next morning I could barely walk, even to the bathroom and back, let alone work. As it happened, the bathroom is about as far as I made it that day. And the next.
Back to this morning - after Chinese and a quick commute into the hinterlands of Beaverton - I slide into work, fresh off my four day vacation, trying to maintain an air of easy nonchalance.
For the first couple hours I worked alongside an uneasy paranoid feeling that the hammer could drop at anytime - at any moment I could be called away from my desk to face whatever kind of hellfire management had in store for me.
Naturally, the focal point of my fears was drug testing, which - if I were forced to submit to it - would inevitably result in massive failure on multiple counts.
In fact, I am so wholly aware of the fact that even taking a drug test would be virtual suicide that I have been strongly considering the Lil' Jon approach.
Well, that's one idea, and a laugh, but hopefully things won't get that bad any time soon. I have a few test avoidance cards up my sleeve, and chances are that at a center like mine nobody really cares anyway.
Peace out. I gotta work two more days, and then take another weekend.
It's a rough hoe, but somebody's got to do it.
"Jesus," I though, "At this rate it would be easier to count the orifices I'm not bleeding from."
But no, it was actually just a trick of the harsh florescent lights bearing down over my head. Either way, nothing would surprise me anymore.
Not even being awoken Saturday afternoon at 4:30pm by a call from my Call Center Manager - when my shift started at 1:30. At the time it didn't even phase me. I had bigger things on my mind. Like the world's worst hangover.
Not only was I hung over in a way that few people can imagine, I was also near fucking lame from a brutal ankle sprain I had incurred the night before, when I had infortuitously missed the final step on a set of stairs inside the club I had been at.
When the injury occurred it hadn't seemed so bad, but the next morning I could barely walk, even to the bathroom and back, let alone work. As it happened, the bathroom is about as far as I made it that day. And the next.
Back to this morning - after Chinese and a quick commute into the hinterlands of Beaverton - I slide into work, fresh off my four day vacation, trying to maintain an air of easy nonchalance.
For the first couple hours I worked alongside an uneasy paranoid feeling that the hammer could drop at anytime - at any moment I could be called away from my desk to face whatever kind of hellfire management had in store for me.
Naturally, the focal point of my fears was drug testing, which - if I were forced to submit to it - would inevitably result in massive failure on multiple counts.
In fact, I am so wholly aware of the fact that even taking a drug test would be virtual suicide that I have been strongly considering the Lil' Jon approach.
Supervisor: We're going to need you to take this "random" drug test.
Me: WHHAAATTT!?!
Supervisor: We're going to need a drug test...
Me: WHHAAATTT!?!
Supervisor: Just take this cup, and take off that jacket. Yeah, leave your bag here.
Me: WHHAAATTT!?!
Supervisor: All you have to do is pee in it. No big deal.
Me: WHHAAATTT!?!
Well, that's one idea, and a laugh, but hopefully things won't get that bad any time soon. I have a few test avoidance cards up my sleeve, and chances are that at a center like mine nobody really cares anyway.
Peace out. I gotta work two more days, and then take another weekend.
It's a rough hoe, but somebody's got to do it.
