TA – Part One
| July 16th, 2010Look, I’ll say it over and over – my job is fucking weird. Not to say that I’m complaining – I love my job. In fact, that’s why you nearly never see me talk about it on this desecration of the written word… I’m usually quit contented with what I do on a daily basis.
As I said in an offhand manner about a year or so ago, I bought the company that I used to work for. In my mind it was always working to that point; when I was presented with the opportunity to actually take over, well, to say I was pleased would’ve been a vast understatement.
It’s been hard. Very hard, in fact. I’ve lost a lot of sleep and I’ve made a lot of sacrifices in order to keep a roof above my head and keep my bills paid, not to mention keeping my customer-base of over 1,000 happy. In the end, though, I can certainly say it was all worth it.
Still fucking weird though.
I fix computers in people’s homes. It’s the part of the job I absolutely refuse to give up because sitting in an office staring out the window makes me go stir crazy and forces me to do something horrendous like take my pants off and crabwalk around my office while thrusting upward and claiming I’m a mentally defective Duff Man.
Sorry, sorry, I had to get one horrible image into my writing. It’s the unspoken rule.
Fixing things in someone’s home, especially their computer, offers an almost uncomfortably intimate look into people’s personal lives – one I would almost prefer to avoid. Don’t misunderstand, I don’t snoop – more often than not ridiculously personal information is right there on top.
Oh, good, you’re cheating on your wife/husband with the plumber/nanny/guy down the street with an annoying fucking dog? Neat.
Cancer, huh? Keeping it a secret? Wonderful.
Erectile dysfunction? Getting it up IS a lot of hard work.
I was a lot prouder of that last pun than I should have been.
I know sexual preferences, fetishes, what color shoes they prefer, whether or not they like the Blacks/Jews/Mexicans and what political party they really are affiliated with but their awful naggy wife won’t shut up about Obama so they smile and nod so they can get at least a half-enthusiastic fuck at the end of the night.
Most of this, by the way, is gleamed from the first email that opens up when one opens Outlook up. It’s usually a response to something that was said. Otherwise it’s a cursory glance at AutoComplete/web history/bookmarks/things on the desktop. Or sometimes it’s Word documents left open that I don’t mean to look at but while closing and hitting no I get a jist of what was said and quietly cringe.
The key, however, is discretion. I’ll never name names and I’ll always pretend that I don’t know what I know simply because it’s none of my business – these are things that I, and by extension no one, should ever know.
Anyway. Next time I feel motivated I have quite a few stories from work that I feel the need to tell. Many of which I haven’t actually shared with the class, so if you happen to be reading this and are around me enough to know most of my stupid stories, get ready for some sexy new action that’ll knock various bits of clothing off… etc… far too lazy to finish this.
Whatever.
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