It's Hard Out Here for a Temp

Friday night I was hanging out at a bar with some friends. At around midnight, Office Space came on the TV, and I was hopelessly transfixed. I watched that movie more times than I care to remember in college, and—don’t get my wrong—it was funny. But I couldn’t really relate to it, not REALLY... until now. I kept diverting my gaze from the person talking to me to the TV. I think she was getting annoyed (“stop watching TV!”), but I was having an epiphany. I mean, everyone says his work life is like Office Space. That’s what makes the movie great—everyone can relate to it. So I guess it’s a little cliché to be all “oh, my office is just like Office Space!”. But it is.

And while we’re on the subject of my office, here’s something weird: my network account expired last Thursday and, unable to login to my computer, I called the HelpDesk for assistance. During one of the long “waiting for the computer to reboot” lulls, the HelpDesk Guy says “so, did you go to Williamsville East? And did band, and stuff?” Umm, yes, yes it is. Helpdesk Guy graduated in '98 or '99 and played percussion in band. His name was familiar, but can’t think of what he looks like. Regardless, I’d like to point out that this stuff never happens to me. I’ve never stuck around any place long enough to run into people I know from back in the day. It’s a weird feeling.

Finally, my car is in the body shop getting the horse-related guardrail scrape repaired. I have a loaner, which is a piece of crap, but free. I’m no mechanic, but judging from the sounds this thing puts out, it has no muffler whatsoever.

Over and out.