All's Well...Sort Of

Back again for another round. So what's new with me? Not much. I still work at the video store. The company I work for still has it's head in the sand. Some of my customers are a bunch of whiny, narcissistic children; and I'm still not going to Burning Man.

Doesn't sound too good, eh? It could be worst. I got my mouth fixed, finally; and the oral surgeon was generous enough to knock off $500 from the price tag.

The best thing that has happened so far is that I moved. J and I found a really cheap apartment in an upscale neighborhood. We share it with two of our closest friends. So far, things are going well. I just wish the guys were better at cleaning up the kitchen.

I also came up with this crazy idea to watch every single movie in my store. It turns out that we have about 12,000 titles. One my room mates calculated that it would take me eight years to go through all of them--eight years of my life wasted watching movies, not that I'm doing much with it now. But eight years holed up watching the tube, just for a crazy stunt--no thanks. May a bigger man (woman) proceed me into glory.

*********************
Let's talk about new releases on DVD.

1. Sunshine Cleaning came out today. Haven't seen it, but it's got Amy Adams in it, the red headed version of Anne Hathaway also known as Sandra Bullock 2.0. (At least Anne is showing a little more diversity in her roles, a skill Bullock never seemed to master to get out of spunky comedic heroine land.) Anyway, it also stares Emily Blunt, of whom I had never heard before 'The Devil Wears Prada.' She was good in that, so I assume her acting is just as competent in this film. Adams' sticky adorableness is already a little too overplayed for my taste, but I'll give this movie a go.

2. I just barely remember Fighting in theaters, for the most part as an answer to a random question on where Terrence Howard had been since 'Hustle and Flow.' Apparently, he's been trolling parts as second bananas in lame passable films starring guys no one has ever heard of. Anyway, since I pride my knowledge on every film showcased on the big board of coming attractions, it bothered me a great deal that his movie didn't stand out in my head. My manager knew more about it than I did, given that he is a meat and potatoes kind of guy who couldn't tell Ingmar Bergman from Ingrid Bergman. It says it all in the title. A kid gets recruited into underground fighting, and experiences the drama that comes with pounding dudes in the face.

3. Just when you thought the Bring It On series had run its course, out comes another one of these turds from some studio exec's a-hole. I'm really not that bothered by 'Bring It On: Fight To The Finish,' I just really hate anything aimed at kids and teens. Given all the mind numbing shows out there for whom teens, tweens, and young adults are the target audience, children shouldn't be allowed to enjoy anything except water, food and air. They would know quality entertainment if it were covered in candy sprinkles and shoved down their gullets. They used up all their fun points when they got their own channel and fired John Krickfalusi; when they made Hannah Montana a huge star; and for bringing the Jonas Brothers into my life. The High School Musical series should have ended with a reprisal of the prom scene from Carrie. That's how I would have ended it.

The Bank Job--Overdraft Charges Suck Part II

Wow, it's been so long between posts, I forgot to give you an update on my little overdraft situation with El Banco. After giving the manager my biggest puppy dog eyes (which doens't work for me, by the way, since the rest of my face is like a full grown dog) she agreed to knock off about $100 bucks, which was all she could do. I understood, and I didn't give her a hard time about it. She's just another working slob, like me. She doesn't make the rules. Hell, if I had dollar for every customer who complained to me about the unfair practices of the business I worked for, as if I had any power at all to change it, I'd have at least $600 to pay for my overdraft fees.

I did let her know, however, that usury was biblicaly unlawful, to which she just stared blankly at me.

I gave her my entire paycheck, all $287 worth of shelving, stacking, arranging, selling, suggesting, recovering, and discarding some of cinema's finest, and plenty of its most medicore. J came in to recover the rest. He wasn't happy about it (who would be), but he didn't complain. Not once did he complain. He just wanted me in the black again, which couldn't have been done without his help.

Good ol' J. Always coming to my rescue. *sigh*

Burning Man vs. Burning Mouth

Eager Beaver isn't such a bad guy after all. Just when I thought I had escaped the drudgery of a slave wage job by working it as less as I possibly could, disaster striked.

It all began at the beginning of this year when a friend of mine urged me to go to Burning Man with him. He's been trying to get me to go for years. This year I finally got the chance, and at a discount since I'm so pathetically low on funds.

In case you haven't heard of Burning Man, it's a week long love fest at the end of August, out in the searing Nevada desert, just you and thousands of other like-minded extreme camping comrades, living it up under scorching sun. It's like this intense communal experience of artists, hippies, and free-spirits. I've always wanted to go, but something always got in the way, either a lack of cash (tickets can reach up to $300) or a lack of time. I had decided that this would be the year I go to Burning Man, come Hell or high water. The only problem was J, who was strongly against my going. You see, J would never go to such an event. "It's too dangerous." "Who wants to hang out with a bunch of burn out hippies?" "What if you die out there?" Yadda, yadda, yadda. And since J would never go to Burning Man, it was assumed that I wouldn't go either, although I don't know how he got that in his head.

After much fighting, begging, insult tossing, and threats of breaking up, J finally let go of his opposition. He accepted the fact that he had no control over my life, even though he has always been the one to pull me out of a jam. Point taken. I know that I lean on him too much, and I don't feel good about that either. No matter how badly I wanted to go on this trip I wouldn't ask him for a cent to help fund it. I paid for my ticket with my own money, and saved up for expenses after going through a list of needs with my Burning Man buddy. With J's hard won blessing I was finally on my way to the event of the year...until...

Until, I, at last, went to see my dentist about a dental abcess that had been bugging me for the last couple of months. It never hurt, so I took it for a sign that it was nothing serious. But then the thing grew. And though it still didn't hurt, the pus leaking out of it started to worry me. My dentist put me on antibiotics and set up an appointment with an oral surgeon. Not good. Not good at all.

I just came back from Dr. Surgeon today. It turned out that he doesn't know what's really wrong, except maybe that the scar tissue from my last surgery with him three years ago got infected and needed some cleaning out. In the end, this means another apico. Apico surgery is bucks, about $1600 worth of bucks. I make about a quarter of that per month.

I walked out of the office feeling stunned. By the time I reached the end of the block, I was in tears. No Burning Man for me. Sure I could always ask J for the cash, which he would shell out for me, no problem--at least, it wouldn't be a problem for him. It's a major problem for me, however. I can't take anymore charity, especially from J, knowing how he feels about the trip in the first place.

So I plan to pay for the surgery myself. Eager Beaver was really sympathetic to my situation, and agreed to give me more hours at the store. I worked out a payment plan with the Dr. Surgeon's office--$600 down payment, and $100 per month until I'm all paid up. As for J, he knows about my tooth problem, but he doesn't know about the surgery I need. I don't plan on telling him either. I want to handle this myself, which means I have to make a choice: the oassis or the operation. It's not a tough choice if you're being adult about it. But I can't deny the devestation I feel. I'm sure I'll get over it. There's always next year, and by that time I will have deserved it.

Damn Overdraft Charges

Okay, I know I need to be more consistent with these entries. I'm going to try harder to submit a new post on a regular basis, even when I don't have much to report.

Did I mention that the old DM of my store got the boot? Well, he did, and good riddance. Since then, work has been pretty much cake, except for the Eager Beaver who's temporarily running the store while my boss is away. I can't wait for my old boss to come back.We all really miss her. The sooner she's back, the sooner we can get back to our little dysfunctional family. In the meantime, Eager Beaver is holding out hours on some of the workers, while trying to dump a bunch of unwanted ones on me. No can do, I said. I need my 'me' time. As much as I loove slinging videos, I do have a life outside work.

Then again, picking up a few extra hours may not be such a bad idea. As it turns out, I owe over $600 in overdraft charges at the bank. Total bullshit! I knew I had an overdraft charge, but last time I checked I had owed only $400, half of which I paid off with my entire paycheck. After that I didn't use my debit card once--not once! Guess what, though. I still had a bunch of little charges made earlier--like, from the month before--to account for, which the bank, in its infinite financial wisdom, decided to kick in after I had paid half my overcharged balance. So I'm still racking up overdraft charges on purchases I thought were already paid for. Sucks, doesn't it? Totally.

Fuck banks. Fuck' em in the balls. If only our government would let them fail. And as a tax payer, don't I own a fraction of this corrupt system? Aren't I, in a sense, being penalized for money I've barrowed from myself? Okay, so it's not as simple as that. I know, I know. Still, it's such a scam. It' s total theft! How can the bank let me take out money I don't have, and never consciously asked for, and then punish me royally for $3.00 sandwich and a cup of coffee? Yeah, I know...personal responsibility and all that jazz. Seriously, if you believe this go hurl yourself from your ivory tower into a lake of fire. It's a mistake. People make them all the time. Only in America do people redefine human error as an abominable moral crime. In this country, everyone is alway looking for the next scam to make them millionaires. There's a business in personal failings, lots of cash to be made off the misfortune of others, and it's sickening. Living in a free market economy means the burden is on you to measure how long is the dick that's screwing you in the ass. Screw this country and everyone in it.

Sorry for all the cursing. I'm feeling really defeated over this overdraft thing. Tomorrow I'll go down to my neighborhood branch and see what I can do about it. If they can't do anything for me, I'll just have to think of something.

Writing Is Hard

Real hard. How hard? It makes your brain hurt just trying to think up the next sentence. I don't know how writers do it, and here I am trying to write a book. God I suck.

Allow me just a few moments of self-pity. I just came back from the coffee shop near my apartment (my usual stomping ground) after finishing up a chapter in my book. The chapter sucks, but it was the best that I could do. Indeed, every chapter sucks. The plot is logically flawed, the prose has no rhythm, and the characters are thin. The whole thing feels like a stalling car. My instinct is to junk the whole thing and start all over. But aye! That's the problem. That's the reason why I never finish what I start. I give up too easily.

Not this time. This time I'm going to stick with, no matter how bad it is--and it is bad, no doubt about it.

The problem lies in my noggin. I'm not as smart as I can be. You see how short my sentences are? I wish them to be long and fluid and supple, but I can't think of anything at length to say.

About That Last Post...And An Update

My last post was about Powerplay. I had actually written that post a long time ago, but shaky nerves prevented me from publishing it. It was not that I was scared about pissing off the wrong people, but that the post didn't read well. I edited and re-edited, and still I don't think it's as good as it could be, but I've wasted enough time. I'm never going to be Nabokov, so I may as well post what I got, right? Okay, enough about that. Let's move on.

So things at my job have changed since then. The jerk district manager is gone. Long gone! Yippee! I know I never got around telling about this guy, but he was a major tool--controlling, nagging, hostile, and condescending. There wasn't a week when he didn't come by the store to 'check up' on us and bully us around. It was like working under the Stasi. But those days are over. Ding-dong the witch is dead! Never mind how. Details of his departure are too sensitive to talk about, and involve people who I've come to like and whose characters I don't wish to besmear in the act of telling the story. What's important is that the jerk is gone, and I'm happy for it. What sucks, however, is that my store manager is gone too, at least for the time being. When she'll be back, no one knows. The old DM did a good job of crushing her spirit with his veiled threats and belittling and inappropriate remarks.

In the meantime we have a new store manager who is, to his core, a nice guy; his only problem is that he gets carried away with his job. You know those guys who just get promoted and go overboard with the micromanaging, trying to prove themselves to their bosses, while they only end up making more unnecessary work for the people below them? That's what this guy is like--a corporate shill, a flunky. He's busting his ass without the realizing that he's as disposable as the rest of us. He's a pulse, a heartbeat, someone to blame when things go wrong, someone to ignore when they go right. He's got no idea that all his effort is in vein, that it doesn't matter. To the higher-ups it's a numbers game, and there's only so much he can do to get the numbers on his side. If he fails, it won't matter how late he stays dusting off the shelves, how many asses he kisses, or how many times he arranges and rearranges and re-rearranges all the videos--if he fails, he's gone.

Still, I wish the guy the best of luck. He just needs to calm down. It's video rental, dude, not the Pentagon. Not everything is a crisis. Real change starts at the top. We shlubs at the bottom are just there to take the fall.

My New Job Sucks

It's become my new most hated compound word:

Powerplay.

But before I get into that, first a disclaimer and a backtrack.

The disclaimer: I talk up Netflix a lot in this particular entry, but I am in no way, shape or form associated with the company. I have never been employed by Netflix. I don't even have a Netflix subscription and neither would I get one. I'm not big on watching movies at home. The last time I rented from a video store is when they actually rented videos. So if I don't see the need of picking up movies at a rental place, I'm sure in the hell not going to wait for a movie in the mail. Just not. And online streaming? Forget about it. I like tv programs on tv and movies in a theater. So there you have it. Not associated with Netflix. Dont' give a damn about 'em.

Now, on to the backtrack...

About that new job of mine...As you can see from the title of this post there are some issues with it. But first, let me say that the job itself isn't half bad. The hours are definitely better, the people I work with are cool, and the best part is I get to talk about movies (some of the customers can be real douches, though, but they're alright for the most part).

Okay, so the job is not bad, right? Right. The corporation, however--you know, the higher management idiots who make all the decisions?--are the worst miserable bastards to work for. I can only guess why. First of all, they're scrambling to compete with Netflix who is kicking their ass royally. In case you're not familiar with Netflix, it's got a pretty good game: you pay a monthly fee to check out up to three movies at a time. Get a movie through the mail; pop it back in the mail to get another one. That's it. No late fees or due dates. It's a great deal for shut ins, procrastinators (people who don't return movies until the very last minute), and anyone who don't have the time to make routine trips to the video store. Blockbuster tried to go into this market and got their ass handed to them in a bidding war with Netflix. But Netflix had one big advantage: no overhead. In contrast to Blockbuster's brick and mortar business, Netflix's operaton is the equivalent of some lonely nerd's basement. Less cost means lower prices, prices Blockbuster couldn't afford to set. As a result, they got run out of online rental town and loss millions in revenue.

Hollywood Video (the company I work for) wisely kept out of that fight, knowing what Blockbuster was up against when Blockbuster had its blinders on. That was smart of HV, I give it that. But what they are doing now would make the corporate gods cry. It may not be doing the online rental thing, but HV is trying its damndest to bite on Netflix style of marketing.

And so when I signed up to be one of their video slinging monkeys, I had no idea how much the status of my employment would depend on pushing this stupid video package on to customers, the dreaded Powerplay. The day of my second interview (with the district manager, I should add, which is in itself bizarre because I never, never, EVER had to interview for a customer service job with anyone besides the store manager) they run this Powerplay jazz by me.

Now here's a little hint to let you know if your marketing strategy is a good one: if you are having trouble explaining the plan to another person, chances are there's a flaw in the design.

Powerplay is HV's version of Netflix, only complicated.

1. Instead of getting videos delivered to your mailbox, you pick up the videos you want from the store and drop it off in the store. Like Netflix, Powerplay has no due dates or lates fees on its movies (as long as you have your subscription, of course). Still, HV looses to Netflix on this one, because it's easier for dopes (yes, including myself) to drop off something in the mail than to drive all the way to the video store. To be fair, it's a small loss. Most customers are good about bringing movies back before they're due because they are anxious to trade them in. But then, for Powerplay customers the movies go quickly before they realize they can't check out anymore.

2. Just like Netflix, Powerplay comes in different rental plans. Plans range from 7.99 to 39.99. You may have already noticed, but $39.99 is freaking outrageous, given that Netflix's highest package is $16.99. HV's justification for the pricier tags: you get to rent games, too. So not only are we competing with Netflix, but also Gamefly. Pick your battles, fellas.

3. Because I don't have Netflix, in case I've got this wrong and don't think I do, under Netflix you can exchange movies as many times you want. Powerplay, however--and this is the best part--allows you only a limited amount of movies per month. Say you have the $8.99 deal with Netflix, which means you can check out one dvd at a time, but you can keep exchanging that one dvd for another one for as long as you keep up that $8 a month. With Powerplay, that same 8$ will get you 3 to 4movies for that month. That's it! You have option of two new releases and one library rental OR four library rentals. Ain't that just thrifty-nifty!


4. Powerplay is really a point system. Meaning, every dollar you pay is a point, and with those points you rent dvds and games (and nothing confuses crabby old people more than a points system).

And just to bore you with the break down, here's how it goes:

2 pts for library rentals
3 pts for new release rentals
4 pts for blue ray
5 pts for games

After you use up your points, guess what? You're done for the month. Yep! So what do you do after you finish watching your whopping 3-4 movies (that's the 'Silver' Powerplay plan, by the way) before the month is through? Well, you have to pay full price for your movies, dummy. And yes, the five day due date will apply to those.

Oh, but wait, wait, wait! If you get the 'Platinum' Powerplay ($24.99) which lets you rent 8 new releases for the month, or 12 library rentals, or a mix of the new releases and the library rentals (checked out 3 at a time), and you happen to use up all your points before the end of your 30 days, you can rent movies at a discount. Not so bad, right? But that's only under the 'Platinum' Powerplay. If you were a no good cheapskate and opted for the 'Silver' (up to 4 movies checked out 1 at time) or 'Gold' (up to 7 movies checked out 2 at a time) Powerplays--no discount for you, you worthless bum!

Can you just shell out another $8 bucks to get another round of points? Hell, no! You have to wait until your subscription runs out. Now go back and take your seat at the back of the room--and not another word from you! I mean it. Zip it, buster! If getting your stinky old movies at a discounted price really means that much to you, you can always upgrade to the $24.99 plan. Sure, you can also upgrade from the 'Silver' to the 'Gold,' but you want the 'Platinum,' baby. But if you really, really want to win my love then you gotta get the $39.99 package. That's the 'Diamond,' and that's only for winners, and you look like a winner.

So that's Powerplay in a nutshell. It sucks. It sucks hard and I hate it. But it wouldn't be half so bad if that waste of oxygen district manager wasn't giving my poor boss and the rest of us so much shit for under performing in Powerplay sells. More on that turd later. It's time for me to turn in and rest of for a full day tomorrow. I'm going to need all the sleep I can get.

Tinkerbell > Twilight

Since starting my new job at the video store, an interesting perk has come my way: free videos. Yeah, baby--as in I can rent for free up to three videos of anything I want to watch. Too bad movies don't interest me much anymore. Ho-hum. Oh, well, you can't argue with free. So, I started off my video watching consumption with an unexpected pick--The Tinkerbell movie.

That's right--Tinkerbell, because for all my grrl gamer, football loving, Half-Life shirt wearing, Master Chief worshiping bravado a part of me--a very closeted part of me--likes girlish things like flowers and fairies. And there's nothing wrong with that, dammit. If boys can be respected for liking cars and Three Stooges comedies, girls should be allowed to indulge their ultra feminine hobbies in peace without their boyfriends tooting 'fairies are gay' every five minutes while the damn Tinkerbell movie is on!

Okay, even I have to admit that a grown woman watching the Tinkerbell movie sans small children in the room is a little bizarre. It may be permissible for adult women to still like fairies, but Tinkerbell? I should have grown out of the Disney branding by now. But try to give me a break. Enjoying a Tinkerbell cartoon can't be anywhere as bad as reading all the Twilight books, being a thirty-five plus year old woman and thinking Edward Cullen is the most ah-mazing guy on the planet.

Just to prove my point, you never thought there were that many old crows crotch throbbing for the Twilight movie to come out, but there they were that Saturday in the video store, averaging about one in four customers--that's including the wrinkled farts bugging you to help them find Vicky, Christina, Barcelona--in their daughters' jeans, asking for the Twilight movie--and to buy, not rent. And if you think these birds are buying the movie for their daughters, you would be wrong, Joe. This retarded movie has major fans in the forty and over club. I overheard one woman suggesting it for another customer's ten year old daughter. You should have heard this dumb cow going on about the romance and the falling in love and some other bullshit. "The book is so much better," she said. As if this bitch ever read a book in her life, if she thought that mash up sloppy sentences constituted anything close to literature. The mom of the ten year old didn't know what to think. She's stuck having to pacify for the whole weekend this board kid who's probably seen everything in the store except Madagascar 2, the movie she really, really, really wants to see. The mom looks over at the daughter and asks if she wants to rent Twilight. I'm close by, dusting off about a hundred copies of Role Models and looking right at the kid's dejected face. She's a little kid, for fuck's sake. She doesn't want to see fuckin' Twilight; she wants to see a dumb talking animal movie.

As for me, at the end of my work day, while trying to erase from my head the echoes of withered voices asking me for 'that one Dustin Hoffman' movie, I decide to enjoy my time off the following day with some nice relaxing fluff, and pick up the Tinkerbell movie. I like the color palette; the story isn't very demanding either. It's about Tinkerbell learning to be proud of her tinkering talent. So her job may not be the prettiest girl at the ball. It's still an important one and it's her own special gift. Normally I give these storylines a hearty 'pfffft,' and Tinkerbell would be no less deserving the same cynical reaction if not for the cool fact that her talent was in engineering.

How neat is that? Wrapping a conventionally unglamorous job like engineering in the fairy motif. Ten years from now I wholly expect female engineers to keep Tinkerbell models on their drafting boards. See, girls! You can be pretty while designing a propulsion engine.

Of course, J, had to impose his male-centric witticisms on this delightful little story, at one point demanding to know when Peter Pan was going to show up and say, "Hey bitch, get in my pocket. I need a pocket fairy." But even after I told him to get lost, I couldn't help but join him in inflating the Peter Pan scenario, and offered a scene in which Peter and Lost Boys are all sitting around doing lines of pixie dust.

So that's how they learned how to fly.

Hey, hey! Just got a new job!

That's right--I'm out of the CVS and into another and, perhaps, equally repugnant form of corporate serfdom in a dreaded video store chain. At least I get to shill video games, something I can really get into with any small measure of enthusiasm. I don't like the idea of having to sell promotional plans to people. I hate store clerks who keep asking you time after time if you're interested in entangling yourself into whatever convoluted contract the company's pushing. Whatever. As long as I can quit the graveyard shift, I'll be happy. Or, I hope I will. I'm pretty sure I'll have to work weekends, and that's going to suck hard. Anyway, I'll keep a positive attitude and work until my book is finished.

When wiil things get better?

Okay, it's time for another one of my moody posts.

I'm despairing--not for myself, but for others, for this whole country. It looks as if this economy is not going to turn around any time soon; in fact, its continuing plummet may last for years. If things don't start picking up before 2012, people may lose confidence and move toward the other side--you know, to those guys who got us in this mess in the first place? If so, then we're right back to square one: a fellating of the free market fantasy and ludicrous trickle down philosophy in the form of lax regulation, more unnecessary tax breaks for the wealthy, and more lobbyist influence in Washington. And we'll be that much further from the search for renewable energy and the goal of universal health care.

This administration is far from perfect, but I believe that it is trying its best and is not taking anything for granted. But we got to do more on our end too and not just sit around waiting for government to solve the problem. I only wish that I knew what could be done.

What the hell happened to me?

I remember this girl ten years ago. She was lively, fun to be around, and always full of hope and optimism about her future. Ten years later she's become a miserable and wretched person, who lashes out at all the important people in her life and sees life in general as a pointless, meandering excursion through disappointment, uncertainty, and failure.

Is this what it means to get old?

If so-God! Let it end now. I exaggerate. Of course, I don't won't my life to end. Even with all the heartache and let-downs with which I'm now suffering, I remain ever the insufferable optimist. In the general view of things, I've decided that life is good and that there are always brighter days ahead. The problem is a let all the the tiny, short-lived hassles drag me down way more than I should. Though foul moods never last longer than the discomfort which provoked it, all those little pissy moments of mine add up; and it doesn't matter if I'm right as rain when the weather clears, because I would already caused my loved ones and others unnecessary emotional strain. It's a selfish way to respond, which is the reason my boyfriend has just given me an ultimatum: either I straighten up my attitude or we're finished. Our little talk was no surprise to me. I had known for years that I was due for one considering how patient he's been with me while other men would have booted me long ago. Though it hurt to hear some of the things he said, I'm glad he said them. The tough love pulled me out of my fog of self-entitlement. At first I thought he didn't love me anymore and just stayed with me out of obligation, but if that were true I don't think he would have said anything to me.

In any case, it's true that I have to stop complaining about me life, which is pretty good compared to most. I absolutely hate my job; that's never going to change. But what can change is my attitute. I'm working on my book--my 'bad' book, really--and though I haven't made much progress on it, if I keep working at it and keep my spirits up, I can be done with it in no time.

Oh, and what the heck is a 'bad' book? I'll get that at some other time. What's important right now is is that I right it and get my head straight. I still have a lot of life to live yet.