I’ve gotten a wider load of busy work, but it still only manages to make me wet until lunchtime, drying up quickly after that.
Yesterday, the interns received a reprieve for the second half of the work day; we participated in the last intern event, which was a tour of a car plant in
Greg is fleeing to Sand Diego for this weekend – the 4th.
Much basketball has been played recently, with varying levels of competition. The most challenging games I have participated in have been either against myself or against Greg. When I played Greg, a Midwest basket-thrasher if ever there was one, I was generally horrible, with streaks of fiery dominance. I went down 7-2 in a game to fifteen, hit six 3’s (which counted as 2’s) in a Kobe-like midgame performance, and then lost 16-14. I dare you to try and coach talent like that, Gene Hackman.
On Monday, June 23rd, I had a one hour meeting with the director of my department – a Harvard grad and a man I could relate to. He advised that I consider this summer a three month interview; both in my questioning the company and the company’s torture of me. I told him I’d keep him on speed dial. I also told him that I am currently utilizing the parts of my brain that formed during the years when the only clothing brand I wore was Huggies. He assured me that I would get more projects. The jury is still out on that, and they might not get back in because the door is locked and I left the key in my other pants. I also have a bumper sticker that says “My other pants are a short skirt with no pockets.”
Bert visited the rolling hills of
Yesterday (June 25th) I checked in the Red Cross hotel about an hour before work was over. A lady named Trish asked if I’d ever eaten syphilis-injected Mexican strawberries, or something like that, and then I gave her a significant portion of my blood. She commented that I had an unusually high amount of hemoglobin, which was a “good thing.” I told her I was no country bumpkin, so if she could just refrain from telling me my blood was full of rainbow-hugging goblins, we could move on. The oddest thing happened when she stuck me with the needle. I barely felt it, and I was staring intently at the ceiling of the
Since last we met, many cataclysmic events have taken place. We have seen the rise, fall, plunge and subsequent collapse of the economy, the increase of the length of my hair, and the stagnation of the spirit of a young man from Michigan (unnamed, but we share a bed.) The entirety of the last five days of work has been a whirlpool full of dirty laundry that Chrysler should have taken out years ago. Last week included a “Town Hall” style meeting where we “played” Chrysler Jeopardy, and another where we talked with the man behind (or pinned underneath) the $2.99 gas deal. Some agent of chaos released a caged report last week saying that the amount of vehicles bought in the
Last Monday Greg, Sachin and I attended a speech by Mr. Barack Obama. The light in the Joe Louis Arena must have been faulty, because from where I sat the man looked much darker than me, almost black. There is a possibility that I was in the wrong place, because in other speeches I had heard, the man sounded very white. He may be a shape-shifter, which explains the motto “Change you can believe in.” Maybe it is because I’m not a conspiracy theorist, but a man proclaiming to be Barack and shifting skin colors is one change I just can’t believe. Whatever was up there speaking, promising, and gesticulating, it was very good at it.
I’ve started an in-mate stock game, where people are messaging me throughout the day to tell me to buy or sell a stock for them. I am the broker, and manage $100,000 for each person. It helps to fill in the downticks throughout the day, and the uptick is that I get to practice being the go-to man for stock advice and trading tips. I have to keep up-to-date on the price of about 40 stocks, and have a program set up that tracks the value of each person’s portfolio.
Greg went kayaking last weekend and burned the skin off of his right shoulder. I gave him some Aloe Vera gel and watched as he slathered the stuff on a desiccated patch of skin, which, unnervingly, resembled the unmentionable regions of one of those shaved Egyptian cats.
My sister grew
a year further from birth - as we all sometimes do - and Sachin also had a birthday this week. One of the two is class C, and the other is classy, but when you say both out loud, there is really no difference. Happy celebration of your exodus from the womb, sister and co-worker.
I stayed in Auburn Hills for the most recent weekend to see how my in-mate friends spend their leisure time. It turns out they spend in on Canadian Gentlemen. I should point out here that it is a brand of whiskey, not a collection of north-of-the-border males. I crossed the border into Little France (Windsor) on Saturday night and found a parking spot near a back alley pizza joint. Greg wanted food, so we entered. He swiped his American debit card and collected his goods. As he munched, he walked to the back of the restaurant to see if the bathroom was available. When he was upon the threshold of turning the handle, the door opened, and out came a gentle gentile. He blocked Greg’s path and told him that if he wanted to enter, he must give up a slice of his warm (but not hot) pizza. When Greg said no, the adolescent just laughed and walked past him, coming into my field of view. Turns out the kid was my cousin, Nathan Jacobson. It has been said that odd coincidences come in cardboard coffins. Good thing, because I almost dropped dead right there.
The rest of the night was uneventful, and I accompanied one of my fellow interns to Caesar’s casino and watched him play roulette and blackjack. Of course, I tried to clear my mind and pinpoint the numbers for him as he bet, but my psychic prowess lacks real muscle, and he should never have trusted me. I slept on the floor of a hotel room from
At the Tigers game, we sat next to a man who prattled on about cattle prices and blue jeans and barbed wire. On the other side sat two recently hatched chicklets peeping for hot dogs, soda pops, prezzles, apple juice (?), cotton candy, and respect. Much to my surprise, they got all but that latter and the juice; grandpa was paying and the concessionaires were preying. I’m almost sure that if one of the inbreeds would have requested spaghetti with angel dust pasta, permission would have been granted. I’ve also heard that PCPizza builds strong muscles and that Crack crackers have a astoundingly low amount of trans fats.
Greg and I crashed (slept, not came down from a drug-induced high) at Sachin’s apartment in downtown D-Town. I slept on the floor with a thin blanket for warmth, but the heat from the bullets flying past my head kept me balmy. Thursday at work was busy and for that I can count my blessings in a batch. When I stay busy the day goes quickly, I feel like a valuable member of society as opposed to just another cattail in the shallow pond water, and I feel comfortable in giving God a thumbs up as I lay me down to sleep.
This wonderful Friday morning I was able to pinch a bagel between my teeth before jetting to the Intern Picnic. What else did I do, you ask? Well, not much, aside from helping to orchestrate the perfect prank…
Greg, two days ago, went down the medical center because he was having muscles spasms in his leg. He was convinced he was dehydrated, the told him to go pee in a cup. He just went to the water fountain, and kept the cup. This morning, he called me over to his kingdom to announce his possession of the cup and ask for my help in using it in a prank. I agreed, and returned to my computer to type the following:
Mr. Puri,
Human Resources have become aware of an alleged use of illegal substances by several members of this year’s intern class. As a precaution, to protect the image and reputation of Chrysler, we will be letting go any individual who fails to pass the required battery of drug tests. You are one of seven required to take the screening.
If you have any concerns over the testing, please contact your Human Resource representative. The contact information is in the packet you should have received your first day. Failure to take the test on
Please contact the following representative before
D. McDonald, RN
Tieline: 722-1079
We are aware of an intern event today, and request that you provide us a sample before leaving.
We procured the help of an office worker to play the role of D. McDonald. Greg asked Sachin to go get some tea with him at
I then sprinted down to the lowest floor and hid under the escalator and waited for Stacy and Sachin to come down for their test. As they stepped out, I followed behind them in stride. Right before we got to the door, I tapped Sachin on the shoulder and told him not to worry and that I had gotten his name off the list.
“What are you talking about, Wes?”
“I got your name off the list. I told them you don’t do drugs.”
Stacy and I then started walking away, not looking at him because we were starting to laugh. When he finally put it all together, he sprinted at me and tried to give me some kind of trick Indian kick. He laughed and panted the whole way back upstairs. We found out afterward that he had been so scared because “his roommate had made some brownies” a month back.
This is the fourth day in a row that I've had a peanut butter and honey sandwich for lunch, due in no small part to the lack of non-perishable food at home and the fact that I am the love child of George Washington Carver and Winnie the Pooh. My eyes are torn up from reading by candlelight for forty minutes last night (I just had to finish the book.) Since last Tuesday, one week, I have finished three books. I think I need to take a break – but, in full disclosure, I am starting the fourth after work. What else can I do with no electricity and… I just remembered, I am going to the Tigers game tonight. Sachin had an itchin’ to watch grown men hit the stitchin’ out of some leather balls, so off we are. I’m guessing about an hour drive. I hope they have electricity.
I had a slow morning at work today, but for the last three hours or so I have been rolling right steady. Two reasons: Tim Robbins is out for the day, so I got assigned one of his plants, and I have had several requests to provide backgrounds for my in-mates. The reason I didn’t get assigned Tim’s job straightaway is because Sal never bothered to check if he was here, and didn’t realize his mistake for four hours. Sometimes you get the feeling that Work Ethic spent, at the very least, his teenage years working for this company, but that he split a long time ago. As for the background requests, this refers to the picture on the desktop of every computer. I have been perfecting mine for the last month; adding to it pictures of Jeeps, eco-friendly concept cars, inspirational (haha) quotes, the Chrysler symbol, and, of course, baby seals. One of the in-mates asked for her own personalized version, and she is from the Ross School of Blindness, like me, so I threw in some photos from school and this:
After I prepared my daily morning report and handed it to Sal, he said “no activity for the day.” I am unsure whether or not I can take this as a recommendation to take off, so I’ll tentatively stick around for now. The fact that I have been delegated the task of sitting and staring at the computer screen for 7 hours does little to excite me. I noticed over the weekend that my eyes are starting to weaken. I’ll be ecstatic if they can make it through the summer with some semblance of their former selves. Some time ‘round August, I might be in the market for a seeing-eye dog, so keep an eye out for me.
This weekend, I returned home for my baby cousin’s graduation party, and ended up eating more than I bargained for. Such is the curse of finger food. Several thunderstorms practiced their ballroom dancing skills on the skies of
The last four hours of my Friday were filled with heat, humidity, snack foods, professional drivers, and wet backs. This is not a racial slur – it is a physical condition that manifests itself in wind-whipped interns that accept rides in cars with strangers. Braid my hair and call me Brenda, but dem boys know how to drive.
To ignite our twenty-year-old engines, the event started off with a speech from a man who looked like a turtle – sans protective shell. While we dined voraciously on taco salad, he showed us the fallacy of our belief that Chrysler was not the #1 company in the world. By emphatically PowerPointing us in the right direction, he shone a light into the dark corners of the future and told us of glories to come (none of which we will be here for.) As we interns moved on to our pudding-like desserts —our glassy eyes reflecting any relevant information away from our brain — our instructor continued to speak. He challenged us to believe in the CHALLANGER!, the future of our company. I’m not sure if my legs are strapping enough for that hop of faith.
While we waited for a shuttle over to the testing track, a previously unseen in-mate explained to us the past of “Intern Day.” Not entirely convinced of the validity of his statements, I and four others sat, casting arctic glances through the sizzling air, and listened. “Four years ago two interns totaled a very expensive car. You have to have your driver’s license to be out there. Give them to me. Give me your badges.” He was instantly shunned and labeled a radical.
Five minutes later I was whipping around the track at 140 MPH at the mercy of a “professional” driver seated to my left. He tried to make idle conversation, but I politely asked him to snap his trap and pay attention to the road. This ride was followed by three hours of the same. One intern is said to have reached 230 MPH in a “street illegal” vehicle.
Today marks my first full day without electricity at home. This morning was a stumbling dance characterized by a downsloping tempo and cold breakfast.
release me from this cage of sorrow, assure me that, tomorrow,
As a rule, I keep my enemies in front of me and always have my back to a wall. This eliminates surprise attacks and helps me on my path to becoming a forward-looking individual. This also leaves me susceptible to backstabbing.
I had, with the deliberate slowness and irrationality of a timid-by-nature individual, let Sal slip out of my field of vision toward the “friend” zone. Over the last few weeks, I had slipped into a pattern; bounce into work with my hair slicked back, work for a few hours, approach sleep in a square root formation (never quite reaching it – kiss my asymptote sleepiness!), and then treat the afternoon with less respect than Judas got from the pawn shop when he tried to trade in his thirty pieces of silver. Yesterday, Sal betrayed my trust. He loaded me down with busywork during the last hour of my day, when I was poised to perform a prank on a fellow intern. Now, the jolly folly must be delayed till next week.
Today is the Ride-n-Drive, the intern event of the summer. All us bacon bits must report at
