Yuba City Honda again

                                                                                           

I may as well dream about work, as it is clearly something lacking in my life. I was back to work in rehabilitory capacity. Things were different. The place was in a different location. Some of the same characters were there, but some were old ex-employees, back doing their old jobs, such as Kou from parts. I never actually got around to working on any cars. I was in a forever state of trying to get a job dispatched to me.

I needed a timing belt done on my car and was working out the details of how I was gonna get paid to work on my own car. Tom also needed a timing belt done on his car. I was scheming to get both jobs, but they made it clear that things didn't work that way anymore. No more job stacking and hoarding. One timing belt job at a time. That was fine by me, I was never a big fan of those kinds of jobs anyway.

I was kind of roaming around and wound up in the office, leisurely kicking back and listening to the office girls chit-chat about spiritual music. Someone called "Katie Love," who was the latest rage, a kind of new age version of Katie Perry, was being raved about vapidly. 

I stuck my nose in the conversation for a second, "Uh. Spiritual music, eh?" 

They included me in their yappy raving for a minute, but I turned my attention elsewhere, as I still had to get some work done that day. It was almost 2 o'clock, and I hadn't touched a car yet.

Walking across the courtyard, some employees were talking about more innocuous stuff. A black couple (I guess I have to say they were black, in order to get the description out in as efficient a manner as possible) was having a lightly flirtatious conversation about what things made the guy a good "daddy."  He definitely had the dad bod going on. He looked like Neil deGrasse Tyson or that Jordan Peele character. 

(There, I even spell-checked their names out of some sense of racist guilt. How dare I spell their names incorrectly if they are black. To be fair they were both slightly orange, having that odd hair color that looks like they tried to bleach it, and it didn't come out quite right.)

Anyway, I'm just being as descriptive as I can. They were all kind of heavy-set. What's the polite term for that these days? Why am I being so overly concerned at this point? A fat black dude was trying to woo a big black chick. She was mildly amused at his self-promotion. (Apart from my own racial PC self-consciousness in this narration, I'm sensing another theme. I'll get to it in a minute.)

So, I'm about to start my job, or at least settle in on which timing belt I'll be doing, when I realize I've not clocked in. I've been back to work for 2 days already, and I have done zero work and have failed to clock in either day. Reiner wasn't going to be thrilled, but I sensed that it was a common occurrence and that I'd just need to obtain his signature verifying my presence.

I think my theme is interaction and self-esteem. Everyone had enough self-esteem to interact with others socially in a work setting. Even I had seemingly overcome my reluctance to engage in office banter with the opposite sex. My takeaway: I'm not doing anything like that in my reclusive, self-absorbed disabled life. Since I don't have that type of input in my regular life, I need to get it somewhere.

Now, who's trying to notify me on Facebook? Someone liked my comment about telemarketers and my strategy of wasting as much of their time as possible as retribution for making me pick up the phone unnecessarily. I guess that's the extent of my social interaction. I do insert myself, unsolicited, into people's threads and usually don't get my head bit off.