February 09, 2008
I wish, often, that it weren�t this way but, invariably, it is. This way. It always is. There aren�t any circling, dodging, quick-paced moves within me that are deft enough to avoid it; there isn�t any position which seems to remit its presence; there is nothing in a changed mindset which will allow me actual pardon; there aren�t enough warnings or blatant slaps on the back of the head which could prevent this � it just always happens.I F things up.
About five years or six, seven or eight, maybe nine, years ago, it really hit me. It was during or just after, maybe before, a fight I was having with an ex and he commented,
�Ya know, you�re like a goddamned Rhesus Monkey.�
I didn�t know what a Rhesus Monkey was. I thought he meant that I was energetic. Like a monkey. Swinging around. And I like swinging. So I smiled. But then I found out that he meant that I was like that one stupid kid in every family who knows the pizza is still too hot to eat but goes at it anyway.
GOD I hate canker sores.
So that�s me.
I tried not to be that way � I tried to drop the Monkey Syndrome. I really did. I thought about everything before I did anything, I kept certain things straight and carefully thought about what I was going to say before I said anything. I worked out pros and I worked out cons and considered the best possible path which would most benefit me and secure the safety of those around me and even took the time to make sure that I asked guests if they wanted something to drink but FUCK if that wasn�t too much damned work.
Seriously.
I have way too much going on in my head all at once. I can�t make sure that everything is right before I step out the door. It�s just me over here, people, so I can�t keep track of everything � I can barely keep the basics in line without jamming my fingers in a desk drawer so how am I supposed to just not F up?
I�m thinking about what I�m going to argue in my mock trial case for class. I�m thinking about how I could really use some bread to go with my last packet of tuna in the fridge. I�m thinking how the cats are probably eating the bristles on my broom again for lack of Purina. I�m thinking about rent, how much paper towel sucks for a toilet paper alternative, I�m thinking about Mr. Crackfat who�s the most important person, apparently, in Texas and obviously deserves a response to his third e mail inquiry regarding a discount on shipping for a part I�m selling on eBay for way under cost. I�m thinking about birthdays and about how, when you get older, there are way too many birthdays to think about so why does everyone just have to keep procreating as though it doesn�t affect ME?
So, yeah. I�ve got STUFF on my mind.
Unfortunately, this trifle fact did not occur to my �boss� who decided a good bit of retribution for my having sold a part to an ex-co-worker at my cost would be for me to stay home for a �few days.�
�You know the rules, Laura, and you signed the Employee Handbook which explicitly states that no one can use their discount for the purchase of store items for someone else.�
�I do know the rules and I am genuinely sorry.�
�But you�ve done this before,� said JabbaTheHut with a head turning a funny shade of red.
(He was saying that I was a Rhesus Monkey.)
�I know, I know I did this before (once, when I didn�t know it was wrong) but I wasn�t thinking about it � I just did it.�
�I can�t accept that � I can�t let you off the hook � you knew what you were doing. Brabble, brabble, brabble, brabble� and brabble.�
Dude.
I dig.
I get it. I F�ed up. I�m the monkey.
But it�s not like I was sitting around waiting for my opportunity to turn the entire world upside down with devious acts of disloyalty to a company I�ve been associated with for eight years.
�Ah HA! Here�s my chance! I�ll show THEM, in the midst of this ridiculous recession, who�s boss! I�ll make them (under) pay!�
I wasn�t purposefully looking for a way to be unable to pay my damned rent by taking �a few days off.� I wasn�t desperately searching for punishment, hoping to be looked upon with slanted eyes and ready pointer fingers. These aren�t goals I have written down on a piece of paper which I occasionally take out, entitled �How Laura Can Fuck Herself in Case She�s Bored on Monday.�
I JUST wasn�t thinking.
That was one moment which happened to catch me off-guard. I wasn�t thinking and thus I made a $20 mistake and I immediately replenished that massive amount (which I ingeniously smuggled from the company) once I was �found out.� I made amends, I apologized, I stitched the damned rip.
Still, no one seems to accept the fact that I just made a mistake. Instead, with the way Jabba spun the story, everyone finds it easier to believe that I have some dirty Other Side which pillages and plunders poor, hypocritical companies by skimming parts FOR SOMEONE ELSE out of inventory. I lied and cheated and apparently never thought I�d get caught because, as everyone knows, I think I�m much smarter than them.
Besides it�s altogether and entirely likely that I was thinking about how jeopardizing my health insurance over a set of fucking brake pads would be a nice way of changing things up a bit.
I�m sure that was it�
Really, if I was going to do something wrong, I would have just TAKEN the parts so as not to leave a damned paper trail. I would have skipped the whole obvious invoice thing and simply added on to the already-fucked-up-excuse-for-an-inventory system they all have. Or I could have just excavated the handy dandy unlocked safe at my leisure. I could have knifed Jabba�s nice 4WD, spit in his Slurpee or erased all the porn from his work PC if I were sincerely looking to do his petty little soul damage.
But, whatever.
Keep blaming me. Get bent at my blunders. Don�t bother getting to know me and thus realizing what type of person I really am. Handing out benefits over doubt sounds a tad too much like work and we wouldn�t want you to have to actually GET UP and remove the chair from your ass. Let us not worry ourselves over such small things as my wellbeing � I�ll just go ahead and be well somewhere else.
That way, you can hire your little high schoolers and pay them their little minimum wage and you can get your little minimum wage results.
Rhesus Monkey or not, working for YOU is one mistake I shan�t work too hard on making again.
So thanks, but no thanks.