Arriving moments after Jenn and the roommate we go in through the back door, which for some reason everyone prefers around here, and sit down for some drinks and idle conversation. Roy regales me with stories of his concubine conquests in the recent past and the lascivious nature of so many of the women in the area. Girls climbing in his window late at night; kicking them out so he can play video games; the crazy girl that cut herself up when he turned her down and her subsequent trip to the mental institute. I imagine that there is a lot to be learned by watching Roy deal with women. I’m just not sure if I would be learning what to do or what NOT to do. Regardless of his unorthodox tactics with females, he is a solid guy. He’s proven invaluable to me in numerous circumstances, and never has a problem helping a buddy. It’s getting late and I have an interview at 8 a.m. so Roy ducks out after offering me a ride to the airport the following night. I forgot what it was like to have friends who have their life together.
7:30 comes too early with my cel phone screaming out its reveille from the coffee table. I’ve got an hour to wake my brain up for the impending interview. I stumble to the bathroom to clean my head of cobwebs and throw some water on my face. I walk back to the couch and sit down to check my email and brush up on the interview topics.
The muted sound of a phone ringing suggests to me something is wrong. The back of my eyelids is the clincher. It’s now 8:40 and I can only assume that the strange vibrating sensation under my ass is the interviewer telling me it’s time to Dog and Pony.
I answer the phone only to have my worst fears realized. The majority of the people I spoke to in setting up this interview were Hindu and spoke with accents thicker Roseanne Barr; this guy is no different.
“Hollow Babee, Ho ah jew Dooey?� He sputters.
“Oh my god,� I can’t stop myself, it just comes out.
“Dash grey, Dewyoo has dibe to tock?�
“Certainly,� I reply. Just give me a moment to recover from laughing my ass off at your pathetic attempts at verbal expression.
“So, habjewhabmushyspearinwiffacliffdirewbberey?�
“I’m sorry. What was that?�
“Habjewhabmushyspearinwiffacliffdirewbberey, Babee?�
This guy’s habit of calling me pet names is, to say the least, disconcerting. I’m wondering if he always speaks like this or if he is attempting to eat 4 peanut butter sandwiches and drink a Pabst Blue Ribbon by chewing the bottle. The next thirty minutes define the term “Exercise in Futility� as we play a blindfolded tennis match in a swamp. The high point of the conversation comes when he simply ceases to try to understand my obviously slurred and inarticulate speech.
“HodeedjewDooey?�
“Excuse me?�
“HodeedjewDooey?�
“Well, our primary task was setting up the DNS for the new domains properly. After that creating the FSMO roles and setting up the trust. The workstation transfer wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.�
“HodeedjewDooey?�
“Excuse me?�
“HodeedjewDooey?�
“Well, using the MMC snap-ins for each particular task, primarily.�
“HodeedjewDooey?�
“Ummm, I think perhaps I am not understanding what you are asking.�
“HodeedjewDooey?�
“Maybe you could clarify what you are looking for here? I’m not certain that I’m giving you what you are asking for.�
“HodeedjewDooey?�
“Ummm, how about another question there, Hadji?�
At this point, I realize this is probably not the best response to his frustrating queries, but I honestly think that is his name. I’m pretty sure there is nothing that can get any worse at this point. He finally ceases asking me about Donald Duck’s nephews and lets me ask him a few questions… like “How did your brain ever learn human speech?� and “Do you really think Cracker Jack is an acceptable English teacher?� Brutal.
The morning passes without much fanfare. Jenn’s shower curtain has ceased emitting the stench that resulted in my getting high and scribbling my name on my shoes so they wouldn’t get lost last night, and I can almost breathe again. The human tornado rousts herself from sleep for a few moments only to return to bed and repeat this process a few more times before deciding to brave the Curtain O’Fun for her shower.
Kicking myself for falling asleep before my interview, I remember that my test is today so pulling out my study guide I settle down to get productive while my hostess is away. Now, I realize I forgot to schedule my test last week and as such I have no appointment. Continuing to kick myself I jump on line and on the phone trying to track down a testing facility in the vicinity that can take me. After getting every excuse in the known world why no one can schedule me for a test today, I finally get one operator who knows what she is doing. Ten minutes later, I’m set for 3 p.m. at Mesa College.
Moderately pleased with the success of my procrastination, I heat up some more of the leftovers from Oregano’s the previous day. Munching away on some of the best Italian ever to grace my palate, I’m reading as quickly as possible through stacks of information, that despite being firmly committed to memory at the moment, I know will dissipate the minute I look at the first test question.
Eventually Jenn clambers out of the shower with her eyes partially crossed from inhaling the fumes and announces she is running out to take care of some things. My turn to scrub off the hangover. Moments after closing the door to the bathroom, I know this is a mistake. The Chernobyl curtain is putting off enough vapors to negate the ozone layer over Arizona. Getting cleaned up is probably the most difficult and most enjoyable task I will undertake all day. Within moments I’m experiencing a sensation not unlike inhaling too many helium balloons or smelling the markers in grade school. I start scrubbing the shower wall, missing my chest completely when I hear a voice from the shower head.
“You’re all shook up!�
Peering through the water, I find I am face to face with The King. Elvis himself has possessed the showerhead and singing me on my way to cleanliness.
“The King! How did you get in here?� Concern and surprise battling for control of my senses.
“You forget; I died in a bathroom. I can visit any of them I feel like!�
“So you’re really dead then?�
“Uh-huh. The enquirer is way off base. They mean well, though. You gotta keep the king alive in your heart! Being a bathroom ghost has its perks though. I spend a lot of time at the Playboy Mansion. You wouldn’t believe the things I see.�
“So, you’re still a lascivious horndog?�
“Not even death can stop the King, baby! I spent my life chasing it, and I get to spend my afterlife watching it. What did Russell Crowe say? ‘What we do in life echoes in eternity.’�
“You get to watch movies?� And why is everyone calling me “baby� today?
“Sure, this isn’t Jail House Rock! You should see the setup The Governator has in his john.�
“Really? Like what?�
“Dave, you’re missing the point. Think of it like this: If you are Lucky, and I mean beyond-Vegas-unendingly-one-in-a-million lucky and then play your cards right you get ONE shot to even meet the right girl. Because she is never the girl next door, she isn’t a local, a model, or any cliché that people propagate. She might be on the other side of the world but if you meet her and you leave… heaven will break before you get another shot. She will be with you for the rest of your life, deep in your heart, keeping every one else out. I got scared and left her in blue Hawaii at a clambake, and I was never the same.�
Elvis Presley. The ruler of rock and roll, brought low by the wayward touch of a single woman’s hand. It’s too much to process.
“Now, you need to get outa here and into your blue suede shoes before these fumes make you hallucinate. Viva Las Vegas, baby!�
And with that he is gone; leaving me to meditate on the wisdom of The King.
Stumbling out of the shower and falling into some clean clothes, I find myself talking to Jenn about the money for the rental truck fees on the way to the college.
“So I guess the banks are all closed today.�
“Yeah, Jenn. It’s Columbus Day.�
“But they’re a bank! Don’t they know people need money?�
“Haven’t you ever heard the term ‘Banker’s Hours’?�
“Oh.�
“Yeah.�
She agrees to make it to the bank the following day and deposit the money. She might be a little vague at times, but Jenn’s a good person and I trust her to get around to it. Eventually.
The directions to the testing facility are fine up until the parking garage. I jump out and start wandering around looking for an elevator that doesn’t exist. Climbing the 8 flights of stairs to the office I need to be at is not the most fun I will have all day. The girl behind the counter is happy and radiant and I’m too preoccupied to care. Such is not the case for the lecherous old man behind the desk with her. I’ve got a half hour to kill so I dive back into my paperwork so I won’t keep laughing at his advances to a girl 1/3 his age and dressed like a librarian (no, the other kind).
Even after going back over the entire test and checking every answer twice I haven’t even used half the allotted time for the test. Unsure as to whether this is a good or bad thing, I mash the “Submit� button and am greeted happily with my passing test score. Quickly perusing my test questions again to see where I screwed up I am greeted with some of the gems.
22. A user is eating a banana at his desk. The server calls China exporting all your primary dental records. What is the possible cause for your athlete’s foot?
37. How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
42. What is the answer to life, the universe, and everything?
68. If the server crashes while exporting a digital TIF modem port, what SQL code do you use to regenerate a simple hypothesis query for downloading an icon process?
Pass is pass, says I. Thoroughly pleased with my performance, I leave the testing area swaggering like I just potty trained myself. Picking up my paperwork from the Barbie at the front counter with a wink and a smile, I’m back in the Hellevator and out on the street waiting for Jenn to return. A screech of tires announces the arrival of Jenniferocious the 5th Horseman of the Apocalypse. Briefly wondering how long she has had the brake handle of a wheelchair stuck in her grill. Deciding not to ask, I pluck it out and jump in the passenger seat of Death on Wheels.
“So, did you pass?� Jenn asks, gassing the car while turning to talk to me.
“No, the instructor was Hindu. He just kept asking me the same question over and over again. Something about Betty Boop and moist used panties.� I answer with raised eyebrows and a suggestive glance at the road.
“NO WAY!� she screams, drowning out the pedestrians cries as yet another red light flies past. You can always count on Jenn for voluminous approbation.
“No, I’m kidding. Of course I passed! You forget who you are talking to.� I admonish, flashing shark teeth.
“Oh, ya. Sorry, Superman. My bad.�
Thanking whatever Angel was watching over us as we pull into the parking placec adjacent to her apartment, I extricate myself from the car and notice the ambulance for the first time. This can’t be good. I wonder if I have any food left in the fridge. Familiar with emergency medicine from my father the doctor, my many car accidents, and the numerous EMT/paramedic friends I have had over the years, I wander over strike up a conversation with one of the guys on site and see if we are all going to die.
I just thought of this: you were looking for a word other than voluminous. How about ‘ample’?
I liked voluminous in this respect because of the double entendre. ample, and loud as in ‘volume’