I have to admit it. I actually didn’t mind my first night on the new job. I mean, aside from the three hours spent filling out tax paperwork and contracts, reading approximately 3,000 pages of company policies and grounds for dismissal, reading a detailed description of my duties which I immediately, word by word, forgot, and just sitting there waiting under the flourescents, it wasn’t bad. The interviewing part was actually mildly fun. I get to actually talk to people, as opposed to talking to my toilet brush (that was beginning to seem a little disturbing). I’m sitting there, reading a script that goes “Hello, my name is Blue, and I am employed by Dude-Take-My-Survey Market Research, and I am calling today to recruit participants for a study on blah blah blah . . .” And I have to make it sound “juicy”, to use my supervisor’s word. All the poo I’ve had flung at me in the past few months for “performing” my feelings, everybody encouraging me in my attempt to be real, to use an authentic voice, and now somebody’s paying me to act.
What a fucking relief.
Now don’t worry about me backsliding. In fact, I feel more clear-minded, more in touch with what’s really real, Dave, than I have in a long time. When I’m writing or talking or thinking about the painful things, I am doing everything I can to be there with it. But shoot, all that stage experience I have, it felt like a shame to let it go to waste.
It’s going to be an adjustment, having a supervisor, working in a little cubicle, having no windows to peer out of in desperation, all that. I don’t think I’ve ever, in all of my working days, had somebody looking over my shoulder to make sure I’m actually working, and not reading the Onion. But I get to wear a spiffy little headset! The exact kind Jennifer Lopez wears, when she’s on stage! I am just like a pop star now! Except that I’m totally not.