I'm not on anti-depressants! I'm on SPEED!

This morning was orientation for the new job.
Let me backtrack to give a quick rundown of the last day of the old job.

Wednesday.
The Whistling Dumbass (aka Linda) showed up and announced that a bunch of bigwigs would be stopping by today.
Oh-let me go back one more step.
Tuesday closing time.
WD let slip this very interesting piece of information:
"We have a young man who will be joining us soon who will be in charge of all the childrens' programs."
Now, I was sitting by the door playing a game that's kind of like Space Invaders only less visually stunning on my iPod. But little pitchers have big ears.
This was a very fascinating development.
There were very few ways to interpret that data. Clearly, I was on my way to the dole line. And not one motherfucker had told me.
Lucky for me, I had an episode of House to distract me. Wilson on speed is my new favorite thing in the world. Wilson on speed has actually passed candy and beer and puppies for best thing ever. That's how much I love Wilson on speed.


Don't believe me? Check it out. Better than sex. Not that I'm the one to make that call.
I had other stuff to concentrate on. I didn't think much about that the rest of the evening.


Wednesday Morning 10am
WD told me to move to the back computer because I wasn't allowed to be on the front desk.
I snapped. I told her that I would make myself scarce and make sure the Big Important People wouldn't be bothered to even have to feign politeness to the "Idiot Temp."
After a few minutes trying to calm myself down, I locked myself in the public restroom and called the temp agency to tell them that Wednesday would be my last day.
"You're required to give two weeks' notice," said voice on the other end of the phone.
"Would you give me two weeks notice?"
"That's not the point. We're going to have a very difficult time filling this position. It ends on the 21st."
"So you answered my question. You didn't give me two weeks' notice. This is my notice. Twenty-four hours. That's more than you deserve."
"You're an employee of this company."
"I'm a temp."
My heart was threatening to burst out of my chest. My brain was racing. I've seen more relaxed people at the height of a coke binge. You know Tweak on South Park? Multiply that by ten. I was fucking out of control. I was at work. Everything was spinning. The lights were really loud.
I'd never wanted a Xanax more than I did at that moment.

I called Mum and freaked out for about ten minutes. To be honest, the cause of the freak out is a bit of a mystery. I think, as illogical as this is, that I was upset that I was losing my job.
The one I'd just quit.
Because I had a better one.
Panic attacks. Anxiety disorder.
Kind of supposed to not make sense.

Anyone here ever seen me manic? Or high? I'm sure high. If you haven't seen me high. You've probably been around me when I was high. Whether you knew it or not. You might have thought it was mania. Maybe you thought I was in a really good mood. Imagine that. Now trap me somewhere. That's what I felt like.

I tried to explain this to Katie. She did her best to calm me down. My hands were twitching worse than usual. I was having a very difficult time making any sense at all. No trouble talking. But, sense? Not so much.

Then I crashed. From talking fast and furious to barely able to speak at all. The lights were still loud. But more than anything, they were bright. And the hum. G-d the incessant hum. I was going to be sick. I was sure I was going to vomit.

It's how those things work. Adrenaline rush. Hysteria. Hyper-sensitivity to sound and touch. Crash. Depression. Hyper-sensitivity to everything. Vomit. Pass out. (If you're lucky.)

I had to work the rest of the day.

Work the day and pretend I was so sad to be leaving the library. Yeah, did you ever consider going into the theatre?

Right before the end of the day, I was reading the paper. Counting the minutes. The last minutes.

"I hear you're leaving us."
"Bloody good timing, isn't it? Since I was going to be tossed on my arse soon enough."
"You would have gotten another assignment."
"You don't know that. You don't have any idea what my relationship is with that company. That's what someone told you and you just believed it...That's not how it would've worked."
"Where will you be working?"
"I don't think you need to know that."
"You're not going to tell me?" WD chuckled.
"No. I'm not. Suffice to say, it's somewhere where I will have to suffer much fewer idiots throughout the course of the day. And the pay's better."
"Much better?"
"Again, none of your business."

WD had forgotten to take in the flag. Katie helped her fold it. I promised Katie she wasn't free of me. Even if she wanted to be. I said I'd be around.

The job was terrible. If you take away the fact that I made just enough money to get by. Take away the money, because I am an overeducated educated adult, and any job I get should pay enough for me to survive. Without the money, there was only one good thing about that job. I would never have lasted there as long as I did if it wasn't for her.


Thursday
Wasn't really that interesting. I took some tutorials. I took some tests. I took some dog to the park.

Friday
Orientation at 8am. Then I had to get a bunch of shots and immunizations and blood drawn so I can work in a hospital. I'll be working in a hospital. Did I mention that? Yeah. I convinced a bunch of people I'm a neurologist. I SO rock.
Bummer for me. The only temp assignment was as an office assistant. It's ok. I'll be cutting into peoples' brains soon enough.
WA HA HA!
Then there was paperwork and the photograph for the worst hospital ID badge in America. Lazy eye. Damn lazy eye.
And a trip to the bank for verification of my account info
Back to the office to drop that off.
Turned in the last time sheet for the rotten job.
Came home.

Took dog to park.
Rain began to fall.
Watched Bob and Rose on DVD.
Dog pissed on rug.
I think this might be a habit I didn't know about previously.
I am mad at my dog.
He also had fleas.
And so my house is flea infested and smells of pee.
We aren't friends.

I'll forgive him eventually.
But he's obviously very bad. And might have to wear doggy nappies if this keeps up.
I.Am.Not.Kidding.

Mum says that if I have to work on Friday and I want to have the sale on Fri and Sat then she'll just have a big party and sell all my shit and it'll be great. So , if you've ever dreamed of cleaning my house...here's yr chance.