I may be the Mayor of Simpleton
Nov. 22nd, 2002 02:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cyranoSo my survival of the past twenty-four hours is due pretty entirely to the heroic efforts of the lovely Princess Mei and the artistic Ebonlock. They're dramatically underpaid.
I tore the house apart yesterday, after hunting down the special paperwork and forms that the USPS required me to have. Because I'd managed to misplace the actual application. And at three this morning I fell into bed, after having unearthed and mostly filled out the application.
When I got up, of course things took longer than they should. And my directions to my Post Office interview blew. There may be an Evans Street exit on 280, but I have no idea what it's called. So there I was, stuck in morning commute traffic in downtown San Francisco, desperately trying to find someplace to park (there is, by the by, nowhere to park in downtown San Francisco) so I could call the Post Office and ask them where the hell the interview was.
And the clock was ticking.
And the traffic was hellish.
And I was running out of gas.
By the time I found someplace I could stand the car (When the engine is running and you're in the driver's seat, I'm told it is not parking--it is standing.) I hated life and just wanted to go home.
But I didn't. I found the place, only an hour late, and wrestled my way through security, I went upstairs and checked in.
And that was when I confirmed my primary dread--when they say they want two years of clean driving records, they do not mean no accidents in the past two years. Nor do they consider two years of driving under a learner's permit to count toward the two years of clean driving.
However, two good things came of it. Firstly, I didn't have to watch the 'Working for the Post Office' video this morning. Secondly, they didn't take my name off the rolls for future jobs. If I hadn't shown, they would have decided that I was a big slacker and decided not to tell me about any other jobs with the Post Office. (Even without the driving thing I can still get clerking or counter jobs.)
So by the time I was ready to leave The City, traffic had quieted down. The fog (or haze or whatever) made things seem peaceful and, if not quiet, at least quieter. I drove a few miles back to the freeway. It's remarkable how a little fog combined with slightly different lighting (I usually drive that road at two-thirty as opposed to noon) can make theoretically familiar landscape look utterly foreign. But the streetsigns helped.
I stopped by CostCo, because for some reason I thought I could buy gas there. (By the way. You can't.) And I spent a most relaxing and refreshing hour shopping. Just wandering through the aisles, looking at things, pondering them, and then saying 'hrm. Nope, don't need that.'
Shopping is not usually cathartic for me. Especially not shopping at CostCo, the downtown San Francisco of groceries. But today nothing could touch me. And after an hour I had a mammoth loaf of bread and two gargantuan bottles of Worchestershire sauce.
And tonight I will go look at a house that perhaps I can afford to live in, despite the fact that I don't have a $17/hr Post Office job.
I tore the house apart yesterday, after hunting down the special paperwork and forms that the USPS required me to have. Because I'd managed to misplace the actual application. And at three this morning I fell into bed, after having unearthed and mostly filled out the application.
When I got up, of course things took longer than they should. And my directions to my Post Office interview blew. There may be an Evans Street exit on 280, but I have no idea what it's called. So there I was, stuck in morning commute traffic in downtown San Francisco, desperately trying to find someplace to park (there is, by the by, nowhere to park in downtown San Francisco) so I could call the Post Office and ask them where the hell the interview was.
And the clock was ticking.
And the traffic was hellish.
And I was running out of gas.
By the time I found someplace I could stand the car (When the engine is running and you're in the driver's seat, I'm told it is not parking--it is standing.) I hated life and just wanted to go home.
But I didn't. I found the place, only an hour late, and wrestled my way through security, I went upstairs and checked in.
And that was when I confirmed my primary dread--when they say they want two years of clean driving records, they do not mean no accidents in the past two years. Nor do they consider two years of driving under a learner's permit to count toward the two years of clean driving.
However, two good things came of it. Firstly, I didn't have to watch the 'Working for the Post Office' video this morning. Secondly, they didn't take my name off the rolls for future jobs. If I hadn't shown, they would have decided that I was a big slacker and decided not to tell me about any other jobs with the Post Office. (Even without the driving thing I can still get clerking or counter jobs.)
So by the time I was ready to leave The City, traffic had quieted down. The fog (or haze or whatever) made things seem peaceful and, if not quiet, at least quieter. I drove a few miles back to the freeway. It's remarkable how a little fog combined with slightly different lighting (I usually drive that road at two-thirty as opposed to noon) can make theoretically familiar landscape look utterly foreign. But the streetsigns helped.
I stopped by CostCo, because for some reason I thought I could buy gas there. (By the way. You can't.) And I spent a most relaxing and refreshing hour shopping. Just wandering through the aisles, looking at things, pondering them, and then saying 'hrm. Nope, don't need that.'
Shopping is not usually cathartic for me. Especially not shopping at CostCo, the downtown San Francisco of groceries. But today nothing could touch me. And after an hour I had a mammoth loaf of bread and two gargantuan bottles of Worchestershire sauce.
And tonight I will go look at a house that perhaps I can afford to live in, despite the fact that I don't have a $17/hr Post Office job.
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no subject
Date: 2002-11-22 04:10 pm (UTC)