tick...tick...tick

My parents will soon be celebrating their 36th anniversary. They decided it was a good reason to take an extended trip away from home…which will be their first in almost 36 years.

This being said, a weekend away was a major outing for them both. But, it was decided, an outing was clearly in order. They were going to start traveling more and this would be the first of many exotic places that they would venture to. So an itinerary was formed and an exotic destination was chosen. Williamsport. Not the Bahamas. Not Italy. But Williamsport. The town which proudly claims to be the 19th century lumber capital of the world. Sadly, this is all the town can realistically brag about.

My parents started off early Thursday morning. I wasn’t expecting to hear from them again until Sunday night, which is when they were scheduled to return. To my surprise, however, I got a call from my mom later that same day.

“Well,” she told me once I had picked up the phone, “the trip is over!”

“What happened, mom? Why did you and dad leave so soon?”

“We were driving along on Route 70,” she explained, “when all of a sudden the car lost all power and started smoking! Your father pulled over to the side of the road, we called AAA, and then had to wait for over an hour for a tow truck!”

“Well,” she continued, “as you can imagine, these trucks were speeding by us going very fast, and there was barely any shoulder, so your father and I felt it was best to cross the highway, hop over the median strip, and wait on the opposite side of the road.”

“So you hopped over the median strip?” I asked, having a hard time imagining my mother running across a busy highway, leaping over the center divider, and racing to safety on the other side.

“Heavens no!” she exclaimed. “It was too high, so instead I crawled underneath it. But, later that night my head was itchy, and when I scratched it I found a tick! Can you believe it!? An actual tick! I was mortified! Obviously, it must have dropped on my head when I was crawling under the road divider.”

“Obviously,” I said.

“Don’t be coy,” she scolded. “Anyway, I got it out and your father tried to kill it…I’m not sure if you know this, but those little buggers are very hard to kill. Well, he finally crushed it and stuck it in a Ziplock bag and put it in the freezer.”

“Mom,” I asked, “why in the world did dad stick a dead tick in the freezer?”

“Because, I looked up ticks on the internet and read that they can cause Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. Your dad figured that it would be a good idea to keep the tick, just in case I caught it. That way, the doctors could use the tick to develop some type of antidote for me.”

“Mom, I really don’t think it’s necessary to keep the tick.”

“It’s better safe then sorry,” she reasoned. “But I just wanted you to know that it’s in a bag next to the yogurt. I just don’t want you to accidentally eat it by mistake.”

Which, I’m sure, was very thoughtful on some level. Though I can’t imagine what food she thinks I would mistake a tick for. A midget raisin, perhaps?

“I’m just glad that you and dad are both safe,” I said. “And I’m sorry that your trip turned out to be such a disaster. Did you two reschedule it?”

“No,” she told me, “the mechanic called and told us that the car was going to end up costing about $2000, so we cancelled the reservation. The trip money has now become the repair money. But that’s okay, really. We’re both perfectly happy just to stay home.”

Because when you get right down to it, a $2000 car repair bill and a Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever scare are a small price to pay to find that you’re content staying in your own little corner of the world.

they just don't make thieves like they used to

Today, for the first time in over three months, I had to wake up early and head off to work. An actual job. For which I’ll receive an actual paycheck. This meant that yesterday was the last day that I could sleep in with unabashed recklessness. I had every intention of shamelessly taking advantage of this.

And my plan worked perfectly, right up until 6:15 in the morning. Because, according to the clock on my nightstand, it was at this exact moment that a car alarm began screeching from the parking lot of my apartment building.

This car alarm, however, was soon joined by two other car alarms…from cars that I can only suppose felt left out and decided to join in the fun. For the next several minutes, this trio of alarmingness created a cacophony of car chaos.

I feebly attempted to bury my head beneath the pillows, but to no avail. The automobile symphony was simply too loud to ignore. Besides, by this point I was wide awake.

Truth be told, nobody even blinks anymore when a car alarm goes off. When they were first invented years ago, I’m sure that people stopped, ran to the scene, and chased the car thief off long before the vehicle was stolen. But nowadays, nobody car, so frequent are the false alarms that these alarms are always alarming us about. It’s about time that the auto manufacturers do away with these things altogether.

Perhaps it was simply a strange atmospheric event that caused these alarms to go off. But, in the event that it was a really incompetent burglar, I wish that he would have shown a bit more persistence.

Hop in the car and drive away with the alarm blaring instead of setting off three and then fleeing the scene. What ever happened to pride in a job well done?

doomsday

There I sat, crouched and cowering, in the corner of my apartment earlier this week. Because of all the evil-tinged omens surrounding the whole 06-06-06 date, I felt it best to stay as inconspicuous as possible. And while I don’t particularly view myself as a superstitious person, I generally feel that rather than risk any bad mojo from finding me, I’ll pretend to follow along…just in case.

So when the phone suddenly rang this past Tuesday, I carefully sidled over from my seat in the corner and contemplated whether I should answer. On the one hand, I thought, this call might a long lost uncle in desperate search of an heir to leave his fortune to, a fortune that would come in quite handy due to my current state of finances. Yet, on the other hand, the call might be from Satan himself, claiming my soul for an eternity of hellfire and torture.

In the end, the hopes…however small…of money won out and I answered.

To my surprise, the call turned out to be a job offer. And while I can’t help but think that getting a job on a day regarded as ‘evil’ can be a good thing, I accepted…once again, money winning out over potential cosmic harm to myself. Though, in an attempt to ward off bad spirits, immediately after accepting I knocked on wood, scrubbed myself in garlic (which is generally used to ward off vampires, I know, but you never know when one will pop up), and danced naked inside a protective circle of salt which I poured on my living room floor. I had seen the circle of salt thing on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, thus ensuring its accuracy, the dancing was an improvisation on my part…but seemed appropriate considering the circumstances.

All of which is how, this weekend, I find myself employed and due to start on Monday. Which happened not a moment too soon. Because as I danced in my protective circle of salt, I inadvertently stepped on a carpet tack…clearly confirming that evil things did befall me on that day. With any luck, though, my health insurance will begin in time to get a tetanus shot before my foot gets infected and needs to be amputated.

signs that you won't be getting the job

Three months ago, I had an interview. Working on the assumption that persistence pays off in job hunting, I began a bi-weekly routine of calling this company to find out where they were in the hiring process.

I had the name and number of the HR person that interviewed me, and I was diligent in my communication efforts with her. Surely, I thought, this would show my dedication and desire to secure a position with them.

The first week I called, I got her voice mail and left a message. Two days later, she called back to inform me that they were still interviewing candidates. The second week of my ‘persistence pays-off plan’, I again left her a voice mail message. Four days after this call, she sent me an email explaining that no further developments had arisen concerning the position and that she would contact me when there was something new.

This didn’t discourage me however, and I placed a third call two weeks later. This time, however, I never heard back from her. No email. No phone call. So the very next week, I left another message and followed this with an email. Again, nothing.

By this point, I knew that I wasn’t getting the job and the company knew that I wasn’t getting the job. But I continued my calls because I wanted them to know that I knew that they knew that I wasn’t getting the job. And, at the very least, someone there was going to tell me ‘you won’t be getting this job’.

Granted, this process amounts to nothing more than a colossal waste of time. But seeing that I’m unemployed, I have nothing but time to waste.

Finally, after countless messages and emails that went unanswered, I opted for a different approach and called the main number and asked to speak with Gina in human resources.

“I’m sorry sir,” the receptionist told me, “Gina is no longer employed here. Let me connect you with her replacement.”

Gina, my inside connection, was gone. All that work and history I had built to show her just how much I wanted the job was all for nothing. But not to worry, I thought. Here’s a new HR person to begin anew with. A clean slate…I’ll just show her the same desire and commitment that I showed Gina.

Soon after, I was pleading my case to the ‘new’ Gina. I explained the interview, and the resume I sent in, and my numerous conversations with Gina.

I was put on hold while she checked her files, and a minute later she was back. “I’m sorry, but we have no record of you at all. I couldn’t find your resume nor could I find any notes or indication that you ever came in for an interview. Unfortunately, we have moved ahead in the process and have narrowed the pool down to three candidates, so you won’t be considered for this position. But if you’d like to email me your resume, I’ll be sure to keep it on file for six months.”

So I was wrong in thinking that the company knew I wouldn’t be getting the job. As it turned out, the company didn’t even know who I was.