So, thinking I better go to the next level, I started calling them using the number I found when I googled their headquarters. It didn't work when asked to "Press 3 for employment opportunities."
I took a huge step and drove to their HQ over lunch. "I applied online but just wanted to follow up," I told the gruff, fat guy who wasn't a real welcoming.
"You can't apply online," he said.
WTF??? I applied for the job online, or I applied for something else online? No way, I applied for that job online. I also told him his number didn't direct me properly. I told the guy and he didn't care.
I took an application home and I'm going for it. I'll return it tomorrow with Mia in tow. I need to go for this job because I'm dying on the vine here. I hate this job!
Thursday:
I got up at 6 am, filled out the application, including my age and everywhere I'd lived in the last 7 years, and decided to drive over and drop it off. I left home at 7:15, got there at 7:30, and the HR guy wasn't there. I was due to be at the food bank at 8:00 so time was of the essence.
Instead, I met with the General Manager named Paul. It was brief but I felt lucky to have had that face-to-face. Why the hell do I have to put down where I'd lived for the last seven years?
Then I made it to the food bank 16 minutes late after being told it had to be no less than 15 minutes late, rushed home, put the groceries away, made it to therapy with 3 minutes to spare, had a great session, and off to Steph's to go shopping with her and Mia.
Mia and I went swimming. She loves playing in the wet sand on the beach. After that we went back to her place and both took a long nap.
While all of this was going on, I was getting more and more intrigued, and worried, and obsessed with what is going on with Peggy.
I went into it at length with my therapist. I told her about the "chance meeting" at 47th and Upton and she said it was TBTBF. (too bizarre to be fiction). Now I have something real to write about if only I knew what was real.
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