poopy famous people

11-08-99

First day at the vet job today. It's going to be a decent job. First thing when I walked in, I had a little meeting with the vet and she told me, look, you're way above this job, you've been to college, you're probably going to hate it. You do realize you're going to be cleaning up dog shit all day?

Then she told me that I can leave whenever I want to. That I can just try out the job, and it can be temporary, or I can decide to leave if I hate it, or I can stay if I like it. She'll be happy to have me work there for just a few months, she doesn't mind if I have to quit, or if I want to quit.

Just that amount of freedom is what I need. I went into the last job and everyone told me what a great job it was, how people move up in the company and spend 27 years expediting bus parts. And I panicked. Ada (the vet) told me that she and her husband (the other vet) would be happy to have me clean up their dog shit for as long as I feel like cleaning up dog shit. Then she sent me back in the dog ward with the woman who's training me.

And I'll be damned, I cleaned up dog shit. My job is to let the dogs go outside one at a time, and while they're out I replace their food and water. If they've messed in the cages, I hose the cages out and force everything down the drains. When everyone's been out and fed in the dog room, I switch the litter trays in the cat room and feed the cats. Then I do the dishes and the laundry (and I said I'd make a crappy housewife....)

When all that's done, I let the dogs out again, mop the floor, and go home. Today I went in at 8:30 and left at 1:15. I do that Monday through Saturday. Saturday night and twice on Sunday, I go in for 1-2 hours to let the dogs out and feed everybody.

It's a total of fewer than 40 hours per week, which is what I wanted, and I love the idea of finishing early and going home. The problem lies in my having to work every day of the week. I'm not sure, but I think Ada said something about another girl who's training now, so maybe she and I will trade weekends, or days off, or something. I hope. I just keep telling myself that if the hours are wrong, I'll quit. We all know that I mean that, too.

John, Rob, Anna, Becky and I met for dinner at a cheap restaurant near our apartment complex tonight. Our dinner conversation grew rather ribald, more so than usual. I'm afraid we offended many of the other patrons.

The offenses began even before we entered. Becky arrived the same time as John and me, so we walked in together. Some asshole had parked his Acura NSX right next to the outdoor seating, not even in a parking space, and had R+B music blaring from it. Nobody else could sit outdoors because this fuck and his 5 friends were asserting their right to be alive. As we walked by, John and Becky whispered snide comments. I pointed my big mouth in the direction of the offensive table and barked: "Guess we won't sit outside, then." We went inside and secured a table.

When our favorite waitress came to get our drink order, she told us that "This Guy!" was sitting outside. She didn't say "this guy," she said his name, with a famous-person-nearby tone in her voice. We looked at her blankly. "The baseball player...?" she explained. Ahh. Our waitress spent most of her night out at This Guy's table, making sure that famous people don't run out of beer.

So I offended a "famous" person. And you know what the real pisser is? I felt stupid for a while. I felt stupid. Like, because the guy's famous, he should be allowed to hog the whole outdoor seating area and park in a not-spot and blare his music. Because he's a half-rate baseball player. (And let me say, I'm NOT a baseball moron. I know a little about the sport, and I've never heard this fuck's name, so he can't be that famous.)

I don't feel stupid anymore. Why did the waitress hang around him? She wasn't looking for a tip, couldn't have been. We tip her very well every time we see her, and we heard her tell the kitchen staff about it once, so we know she appreciates us. She wasn't looking for a tip, she just wanted to hang around the famous guy. Well, I hope he treated her well. Someone who plays his music so loud and parks in the driving lane can't be a very considerate person.