If I could rank every day of my life in terms of “badness”, today would be in the top 100. The absolute pinnacle would be the day Mango got run over. Also near the top, the day I yelled at dad, “Fuck off”. Grandma getting cancer. Best friend moving away. Ah. there’s plenty more. What a depressing exercise.
Anyway. Today’s probably up at about 72nd most bad. It’s kind of a follow up to Friday where I broke a special oven at work that’s going to cost $4000 to repair. (I melted a plastic bin into molten goo and then it leaked into the drain, cooled, hardened and ruined everything). Also, it hasn’t been all too long since I spilled crystal violet all over the lab floor, ruining it. Today the CEO (who’s a notorious tightwad caring more about money than people) found out about the oven and had a meeting with my boss, presumably over whether to fire me or not. Adding a cherry of doom to my sundae of displeasure, today, I screwed up two $12000 tests so I’m sure my study director wasn’t in the mood to defend me to the big cheap cheese.
This sucks. I used to be the golden boy there. I worked hard, got a lot done quickly and correctly and am usually cheery and fun to be around. That was the whole reason I was being trusted with these big money tests in the first place. Now I might be canned. Like a sardine. Except less delicious and more demoralizing.
The Ancient Undergrad 
I’m sorry for all that to happen. This entry was very well written though. “Cherry of doom” and “less delicious” oooo I wish I could write like you. I’m sure they won’t fire you for that. They know your capabilities.
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sardines are not delicious in the least.
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I’m sorry…. if you come visit me, I’ll give you a hazelnut coffee and a hug.
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Damn… the year of the Fire Dog is biting you in the ass too. I hope things work out though.
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yikes.. that sucks, sorry man. you could always offer for them to garnish your wages.. hopefully they’ll be sympathetic.
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I am just a poor boy.Though my story’s seldom told,I have squandered my resistanceFor a pocket full of mumbles, Such are promisesAll lies and jestsStill a man hears what he wants to hearAnd disregards the rest.When I left my homeAnd my family,I was no more than a boyIn the company of strangersIn the quiet of the railway station,Running scared,Laying low,Seeking out the poorer quartersWhere the ragged people goLooking for the placesOnly they would knowLie la lie …Asking only workman’s wagesI come looking for a job,But I get no offers,Just a come-on from the whoresOn Seventh AvenueI do declare,There were times when I was so lonesomeI took some comfort there.Lie la lie …Then I’m laying out my winter clothesAnd wishing I was gone,Going homeWhere the New York City wintersAren’t bleeding me,Leading me,Going home.In the clearing stands a boxer,And a fighter by his tradeAnd he carries the remindersOf ev’ry glove that laid him downAnd cut him till he cried outIn his anger and his shame,”I am leaving, I am leaving.”But the fighter still remainsLie la lie……….
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I hope that makes sense…. for the last two posts
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