In the Future, Read Me First

i've been working the print-shop job nearly three months now-- just long enough to expect to see a MONTHS LATER subtitle in the movie version of it all-- and i want ask my boss what will go on in the coming three months. the suspense is killing me.

everyone quits the job by six months.

"he's admitted he's a prick," one worker told me, "he knows it. he's even said it takes a special breed to last longer than 6 months working for him."

i've been given an abnormal amount of i-don't-want-you-to-quit advice from the other employees. but what is particularly alarming is they're not worried i'll leave because i have a healthy history of doing so, but because thirteen other people already have.

i've gotten these sorts of warnings at previous jobs, too. and i've always ignored them only to find out they were true.


seen on the fridge of my concierge job right when i got hired
but i can't figure what would drive someone to actually leave the print-shop.

"i thought i was going to come back," my coworker continued, "and find him with a black eye and hear you were in jail."

yes, the work is hard and the shifts are long. and yes, at times, my boss says things that make me want to smack him across the jaw with a ream of 120# silk cover. but he is not a dick. he's stern, rude, and perhaps soulless at times-- but he's a good guy and there's no arguing it. his ten-hour shifts and slave-driving mentality is the very mitochondria of our print shop.

i believe firmly that he doesn't deal well with chaos, and some people can misinterpret his reaction to it as qualities of an asshole. but he's just panicking is all. when the orders are done, and things calm down, he's a fun guy to be around.

and when i hear that no one makes it past six months i'm confused. i like the job. it's horribly demanding, and ever-changing.

yesterday i delivered 36" x 48" posters of brains to a neuroscience convention. two days ago we printed an adhesive vinyl drum head for an indie band. and today, i became the official author of our new twitter account.

"you're one of those internet writing guys," my boss said, "you'd be perfect for this!"

well, the twitter news actually really sucked. but that's not the point.

maybe me of the future will disagree with me now-- which is part of why i'm typing this out-- but i like this job regardless of 55 hour weeks, my boss' moods, and hearing people ask, "what's in the journal today?" when they talk about wall street.

but it keeps my mind working, and it keeps me entertained. this is also the first time since i lived at home that i am eating three meals a day.

so, maybe i'm crazy. i know that. i've been referred to as a mad scientist three times this week. but maybe i just have a different definition of "sane" and yours just consists of contentedness with being bored.

right now, i'm not bored. and that's all that matters to me.