Death Traps and More

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Death Traps and more

Current mood:  thankful

Category: Jobs, Work, Careers

I was going to write about my graduation this past Saturday, but I won't bore you all with the unnecessary details that come along with all of that.  In fact, on Saturday, I was actually writing a blog, but I fell asleep on the keyboard and therefore, deleted what I had written.  I was up pretty early on Saturday, like 5.30 am. 

Graduation ceremony was boring.  Nuff said.

What I will write about is how I could lose my job for not being timely about delivering a pizza to my boss.

I stroll into work today, expecting to start with the Player Pages that my employer has given me to do and instead, he's rambling on about how he wants a pizza from Borrillo's. 

Borrillo's is a few blocks down the street and has very tasty pizza, subs and pastas, among other things. 

I could walk down and get it, but I was wearing a brand new pair of shoes that were already hurting my feet and I know that I wouldn't last that long walking in the heat with blisters on my feet.  So, I told M that I would run and get my car and drive over to get him his pizza. 

The only thing was that I had forgotten that I parked my car in the lot across the street from my old house. And if I'm going to go get my car, I might as well hijack the pizza and share it with The Boys and their family.  That's like 5 blocks to my car. 

So, I figured I would take my shoes off and walk to Borrillo's barefoot and go get the pie.  I told the Coffee Shop Girl downstairs my funny story and she was like, "Why don't you borrow my car?"  She's very trusting to let someone like me borrow her car, but I figured, "Well, why not?"

She pointed out her car to me, which was a white '71 VW Bug and told me that there were 3 gears and that Reverse was the upper left corner of the shifter instead of what I was used to  (lower right) and that Neutral or her brakes were very soft and that all I had to do was lightly tap the clutch.

I hop in her car and realize that I can't reach the pedals.  The seatbelt is one of those old ones where it no longer gives and the handle for the window has broken off.  And the steering wheel is the size of a doughnut.

I turn her car on, accidentally put the car in reverse and forget that I have the parking brake on.  I then realize that neutral barely works and that the brakes are ones that you have to STOMP on. 

I kept praying the entire time, as I'm suffocating and sweating in her car, that God would please get me out of this mess and that there would be no traffic on the way to and from.  And of course, being that I'm a hormonal woman, I kept screaming whenever I had to stomp on the brakes. 

I made it (God only knows how) to the restaurant and picked up the pizza.  I get out to the car, put the key in the ignition and,  I was met with silence.

I thought, "Lord, my day just can't get any worse than it is already."

I mean, only yesterday M was telling me that I have to give him three reasons in order to keep my job here at the Golfing school for when I come back from Costa Rica.  So, this morning, I drew him a pretty poster complete with stick figures and TEN reasons why he should keep me on. 

I went back into the restaurant and lo and behold, there were some handy men that knew lots about these particular kinds of VW models.  One of the guys kept telling me that the gas tank was in the hood of the car.  And that if the battery in the back seat happened to send sparks my way, it's bon soir to me.  Which made me feel even more secure. But these kind men helped me and I was on my way.

Barely.

The car kept chuffing each time that I wanted to brake and then every single time I hit the gas pedal, it barely worked.  The car would chug along.  I felt like I was driving a go-cart. 

Finally, I got back to downtown and discovered that the Coffee Shop girls parking spot had been stolen, so I ended up having to park in Far, Far Away Land and walking, barefooted, with my shoes in one hand and a pizza in the other and wild hair on my head back to the office.

When I gave the Coffee Shop girl her pizza, I told her that she would have to get a new battery put in her car as that's what the guys told me.  They told me it was leaking battery acid.  She kept apoligizing profusely about it.  She also mentioned that she pours Coke over it.  Which sounded confusing, but whatever.

It took me an hour to get this pizza.

By the time I got back to the office, I was in no mood to be nice and I tossed M his pizza and told him my story.

All he could say was, "well, I needed this pizza.  It was important for me to have."

I'm going to have to revise the list of "Three Reasons Ren Should Have Her Job When She Gets Back"

I'll have to put, "She goes out of the office and fetches pizza in Death Trap cars"

And as M puts at the end of every email--

"What do you think?"

I think I ought to have a job when I come back.

12:39 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove