SNAP, CRACKLE, OUCH
TGIF, that’s all I gotta say. Friday can never get here fast enough, ever. Shoot, on Monday mornings I think about what imma do the following weekend, for real. Not that I do a whole lot over the weekends, no. It’s just that these days, more than ever, there seems to be less and less time to chill. I don’t mean just sitting around the house doing nada, no. I’m talking about the increasing unavailability of Me Time. I previously dismissed the Me Time issue, or lack thereof, as kawa. Oh, we gotta do what we gotta do, I said to myself. Which is true though coz it’s not like we can chill all the time; that would be detrimental to our well being. Not to mention the fact that bills are relentless. I still manage to spend most of my time at work and that leaves precious little time for anything else. At least I don’t work weekends, thank God.
Not only does work suck for the most part but there’s something else that’s bugging the heck outta me about the whole working experience. And I don’t mean the usual Same-$hit-Different-Day [SSDD] stuff. There’s always the demanding customers, the not-too-smart vendors, the 2-hours-late UPS delivery guy, the boss-man breathing down my neck, the incessant phone calls, the stack of paperwork in all 5 of my inboxes, the usual technical issues like the computer locking up in the middle of an unsaved project, the infrequent [but buggin’] f*ck-ups, the too-short 30 minute lunch break….. I can go on and on. All these tribulations, however, take a back seat to the current numero uno problem - static.
[Indulge me while I break it down.] We’re smack in the middle of winter, needless to say. Temperatures are below freezing and it follows, naturally, that most, if not all, moisture in everyday air condenses, liquefies then solidifies. There’s lots of electricity in the air, and I don’t mean in a boy’s-eyes-meet-girl’s kind of way. Moisture, for whatever reason, seems to neutralize this electricity. It follows that since the humidity is super low these days I constantly need to lick my lips at a rate that would make LL Cool J jealous. [Kinda awkward when I’m talking to, say, a dude and I’m constantly licking my lips, huh?] I also need to keep re-lotioning my hands, not to mention parts of my body that wouldn’t ordinarily need moisturizing. Like, I woke up this morning and bent over to pick up my shoes and it felt like the skin on my back had just cracked open - that’s how it felt. I had to look in the mirror to see what the hell was going on but all I could see was that my back was ashy as hell. [How do you even lotion your back?] I didn’t have the time to mess with anything so I just left for work, ashy back and all. My legs these days look like I’ve been kicking flour and my scalp, clean-shaven and all, would look like desert terrain if I didn’t grease it up. But that’s nothing compared to the numero uno problem - static.
The drive to work these days isn’t any better. Seems like everyone and their mama’s moving to Woodbridge and its environs. It’s all stop-and-go these days. Pisses me off. But that’s nothing compared to the numero uno problem - static.
The moment I get outside the workplace is when the numero uno problem - static - begins. I’m usually like 15-20 minutes early and that gives me time to catnap or read a couple of chapters of my Dean Koontz. [He's easily my favorite author. Gotta be borderline insane, it seems to me, to write the stuff he writes about. Hmm, could be I’m demented too, you think?] I don’t very well have too much space in the Lancer, particularly due to the steering wheel, to be comfortable so I slide over to the co-driver’s side. My knee accidentally touches the all-metal shifter and >zap<, a miniature lightning bolt jumps between my knee and the shifter. Either that or I reach for the reclining lever on the co-driver’s seat and >zap<.
At 0744hrs I leave the car coz you know I gotta be in the premises at exactly 0745hrs like clockwork, like Juelz Santana say. I open the car door and step out, then reach for the door to shut it and >zap<. I walk to the entrance and as I open the door to the building, >zap<. I go to the computer to punch in and on touching the keyboard, >zap<. I get to my office and as I take the coat off, >snap, crackle, ouch<. I go to hang the coat on the hook and my hand inadvertently touches the all-metal hook and >zap<. I sit down on the chair and reach down to turn the computer on and a split-second before my finger touches the power-on button - >zap<. Then it’s all good.
My eyelids keep threatening to glue themselves shut so I go to grab some of that nasty corporate coffee. I get up and go to the coffeepot and as I reach for it, >zap<. I fix the coffee and go back to my desk, reach for the mouse and >zap<. Then it’s all good.
It’s a little nippy so I go to my little in-office closet to grab my sweatshirt and >zap<. As I wear it, >snap, crackle, ouch<. I sit back down, reach for the mouse again and >zap<. Then it’s all good.
The phone rings and [>zap<] a customer or vendor needs me to grab some paperwork so I get up and go towards the all-steel filing cabinet(s). I reach for one of the drawers and >very major zap<. I go back to the desk, reach for the mouse and - you guessed it - >zap<.
My boy swings by work to say wsup. I get up from my desk soon as the receptionist bellows for me to go up front, see my boy and go to give him a pound and >zap<. Wsup man, ouch!, both of us simultaneously say.
I go to the Signs Department to holla at my boy Steve-O, the resident genius. He’s over there messing with the wide-format digital printer and we talk for a minute. He reaches for a sheet of acrylic and, when he holds the sheet above his head, his hair stands up on end. He puts the sheet down, leans against the monstrous all-steel-and-rubber laminator and >zap<. Then he’s standing right next to the printer and his lower torso is in the immediate vicinity of the printer and >zap<, a bolt jumps from his member to the printer and a split-second later he grabs his stuff and hurls expletives. [This is a true story, by the way]
The same things keep recurring all day long, as well as numerous other incidents that I forget. 1700hrs finally arrives after what seems like 24 hours later and, thankfully, it’s quittin’ time. I shut the computer down: >zap<. I take off the sweatshirt >snap, crackle, ouch<. I put my coat on, go to the computer to punch out >zap<. Get to the whip, turn it on, reach for the shifter and >zap<. Get home, step out, reach over to shut the car door and >zap<. Get to the door, fumble with the keys and as I insert the key into the lock, >zap<. I step in, close the door, reach for the light switch and >zap<. Go upstairs, turn lights on >zap<, take clothes off and put other clothes on >snap, crackle, ouch<, reach for the computer’s power button to check out all y’all bloggers’ latest posts and >major, major zap<.
I’ll be damned. Now you see what I mean about the static problem. It almost makes me not wanna touch anything ever again - with a couple of exceptions. I could use the static problem as a corny line when I’m trying to holla at a chick I just met. We would shake hands, both get zapped and I’d say something stupid like:
“Dang, I can already feel the electricity between us.”