Off! the Top of My Head

Good morning kids, it's that time for your monthly dose of confessional stylings by yours truly. It has been a long month and it has taken a short time to get there. It's almost September as I sit and write this and I'm struck with an odd sense of time disruption. Mainly because it seems like last week I was sitting on my friend Ron's couch swimming in a sea of despair and depression. (Rather stereotypically poetic, eh?) Anywho, it has taken me about five re-writes to get to this article so bare with me. So, this topically enhanced treatment of the month speaks on a general frustration of the masses. Work, or for some, the lack there of, and how it can suck the life from your very soul! (Sorry, last tragic poet line, I promise)

Ok, I admit I was so immensely fooled. I was blinded by all the good words and turned away from my worst expectations of the job. When I first started my current job I was so misled that my ancestors wandering in the dessert had a better chance at survival than I do. When I started I was told that my job would be fun, laid back, creative, supportive and have multiple chances for advancement. Now, I know the truth. My job consists of me sitting in a cubical, it's not even my cubical it's just a cubical, for 8 hours a day. I take an average of 100 calls a day and answer question after question about auto loans. After my first three hours of inbound call hell I take my first 15 minute break where I have just enough time to smoke two cigarettes and come back in for another two hours of inbound call hell. If I'm lucky no one has taken my seat because the company I work for underbid the job by about twenty seats so we don't have enough seats for everyone to work. Thus enter the joys of slip seating. Then it's lunch time where I get half an hour to shove down my lunch and suck down two more smokes then it's back for an hour and a half more of inbound call center hell, then break (second verse same as the first), then hour and a half more and then home. And God forbid I have to take a leak because then I have to inform one of my bosses where I'm going. (I thought about bringing back some soiled toilet paper just as proof of my excursion, or excretions, you make the call) But wait kids, it gets better. My boss, or should I say my immediate boss, because more and more I realize the similarities of my job and a sick mix of Dilbert and Office Space with multiple bosses and a memo a day about a new rule that will more than likely contradict the memo the day before, and I get along wonderfully. Our relationship has grown from wonderful conversations where I am forced to sit and listen to her go on and on about her theories of management and life while I have to sit and nod and smile. I was quick to realize that this relationship would prosper as long as I didn't say anything. And I mean anything. If I'm not talking then I'm doing something right in her eyes.

So, I take this opportunity to introduce the readers of this fine publication to my plan for a movement of sorts. In case you hadn't guessed I really don't like my job. Nor do I care for St. Louis. I'll keep that description briefer than my last. It's big, crowded and everybody is pissed off. But my plan is going to help get me going in the right direction and today I propose to you in the land of Cape Girardeau the Chad Armbruster Proactive Employment Foundation of Occupational Levity. Also known as C.A.P.E.S.F.o.O.L this organization is going to be set in place for the primary reasoning to bring Chad Armbruster back home to his beloved Cape Girardeau. The plan is simple however the goal is difficult. While many of you have expressed your interest in seeing Chad living back in Cape, and in order to accomplish this goal all that is needed is to help Chad find a job in Cape and the specs for the job are simple. All Chad is looking for is a job where he can be creative and make a decent wage for the work he does. Now decent wage means between $20,000 and $24,000 a year. For some that might seem like a lofty goal however it comes down to a question of self worth. Chad believes that he is worth that much and that the work he does is worthy of that pay. Please do not confuse the previous statement with a self-centered attitude. All it means is that someone somewhere has to believe that I am a valued employee who is monetarily worth the job he does. So now that you know that basics of the C.A.P.E.S.F.o.O.L standards Chad asks for your help. Please for the love of Bob will someone find Chad a decent job down in Cape!!! I'm sick of this forsaken hell hole known as St. Louis and I know it's not going to get any better.

If this doesn't work maybe I'll try a different route... I can see it now; picture the voice over "For just .30 cents a day you can help sponsor a 20 something with a will to work but no job to apply for." With a picture of me sitting on my parents' couch covered in chocodile wrappers while flipping back and forth between reruns of Trading Spaces and "Skin"-amax. It's not a pretty picture but remember fellow Cap

ers... YOU CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE!!!

If you wish to assist Chad in his search for a job or wish to yell at him for his blatant misuse of an Arts and Entertainment publication for his own personal gain, feel free to contact him at chadarmbruster76@hotmail.com.