technomancer
Smash Champion
- Joined
- May 17, 2006
- Messages
- 2,053
When I told my friends and relatives about my promotion, they always responded, “Hey, congratulations!” My new office in San Diego came complete with an impressive desk and equally impressive laptop, as well as a window with a view of the building next door. All of this was made even more impressive because I was only twenty-five; at least, more impressive to them.
“How long until you reach the executive suites?” they asked, taking care to remind me that there is always room for improvement.
My degree was in business, specializing in growth statistics; certainly not the most difficult degree, but still respectable. I'd accomplished it in four years, with a reasonable GPA of 3.24, earning myself sporadic job offers from local companies. A few months later, despite my nervous babbling at the interview, I was hired by a travel acquisitions firm, which involved itself with the purchasing coastal rental houses for reasonable prices, and renting them. My duties included assisting preparation of growth reports for the quarterlies, and doing regular reports on the value increases and decreases of our rental units in various areas. The salary was reasonable to start, at $34,000 a year, and they'd offered me full benefits, along with two weeks vacation, including free rentals during off-peak season at various beach houses in nice places like Georgia and Northern California.
So it was a good job, and after a year and a half, I received my scheduled promotion. I now mostly work with bigger numbers, across the hall, with a slightly larger salary at $38,000 a year. For the most part my supervisors leave me to it, though the occasional typo does raise a few eyebrows.
I had a girlfriend in college, but we don't see each other much any more. She was cute; green eyes under sandy brown hair and freckles. I'd made a map of the freckles, but the next time I saw her, they'd all moved around, so I didn't show her. She lives down in Colorado, managing a small art supply store, and working on her paintings. She doesn't do the oil and canvas, but rather does little 6”x4” watercolor pieces, and sells copies of the better ones for $12 or so in her shop. In fact, that was the last time we spoke; I called to ask her to pick a few out for my Christmas cards last week. My parents still ask when we're going to get back together.
My best friend, Brian, lives with me at my apartment, in the smaller room. I like him mostly because he's thoughtful and soft-spoken. We'd been friends since sophomore year, and decided to room together as seniors, and rumor had it that we kept the cleanest apartment on campus. He graduated a year later than me, switching to an English major after two years in Psychology, and hopes to attend grad school once he gets some money. For now, he works from the apartment part-time as a proofreader, and manages a blockbuster, so we get free rentals on most of the new movies. I even used to be a bit of a critic on my blog; now somewhat outdated. Brian's writing a novel, but he says he doesn't hold it too highly, because every English major is writing a novel. I replied, “Well if you're gonna write it, then you should at least aspire for greatness.”
“I'll keep my day job.”
I guess the thing that bothers me most... well, I guess that's inaccurate. Nothing really bothers me these days. City traffic in San Diego isn't bad at all. I'm only an hour from home, so the holidays aren't too expensive, and I'm doing well at my job, so I guess I couldn't call anything bothersome. Brian told me once that accuracy of words was very important, and I agree. But my problem... well, I'm not lonely, and I think my future is secure enough. When I have downtime, Brian and I watch a movie, or get something to eat, so I'm not even bored. I guess I'm concerned that I'm not really doing anything. If someone asks what I do for fun, it's mostly watching movies, and hanging out with friends. Nothing degradable, but I'm rarely exciting. I guess it's just not what I wanted.
I usually take my lunch breaks at a café across the street - they almost have my name down - but today I picked up a sandwich on my way in. At twelve, my boss calls me into his office; he wants to make sure my article for the quarterly is on time. He invites me to lunch, and I shrug and show him my sandwich. He's all about building personnel relationships, so he lets me know that it's cool, and we can do it some other time.
It's early December, so it's cold outside and a bit breezy. I zip up my parka, and head up the stairs. The door to the roof isn't locked, and I step out into the air, and, a few dozen stories closer to the sun than I'm used to, I shield my eyes. The wind isn't as bad as it seems in the movies. Taking a peek out over the edge, I can see the ocean, and even get the chance to make out a few waves while half-sitting on a raised vent, enjoying my sandwich.
The next day is work at nine, and I'm neither early nor late. The weather is clearer today than yesterday, but I think I'll stay indoors; eating a sandwich on the roof every day might spoil the flavor. Still, it was good to be up there, high in the city air, doing something.
Song - OZMA - Restart
http://www.lyricattack.com/o/ozmalyrics/restartlyrics.html
More than happy to e-mail the song to anyone who asks; OZMA isn't shared much any more, they broke up awhile ago. Better yet, I can probably put it up on DC++, but I'm not online all the time, so you have to let me know when you want it.
Lol, apparently they got back together - and with a new drummer. Wheefun, new album coming out, I love them so much.
“How long until you reach the executive suites?” they asked, taking care to remind me that there is always room for improvement.
My degree was in business, specializing in growth statistics; certainly not the most difficult degree, but still respectable. I'd accomplished it in four years, with a reasonable GPA of 3.24, earning myself sporadic job offers from local companies. A few months later, despite my nervous babbling at the interview, I was hired by a travel acquisitions firm, which involved itself with the purchasing coastal rental houses for reasonable prices, and renting them. My duties included assisting preparation of growth reports for the quarterlies, and doing regular reports on the value increases and decreases of our rental units in various areas. The salary was reasonable to start, at $34,000 a year, and they'd offered me full benefits, along with two weeks vacation, including free rentals during off-peak season at various beach houses in nice places like Georgia and Northern California.
So it was a good job, and after a year and a half, I received my scheduled promotion. I now mostly work with bigger numbers, across the hall, with a slightly larger salary at $38,000 a year. For the most part my supervisors leave me to it, though the occasional typo does raise a few eyebrows.
I had a girlfriend in college, but we don't see each other much any more. She was cute; green eyes under sandy brown hair and freckles. I'd made a map of the freckles, but the next time I saw her, they'd all moved around, so I didn't show her. She lives down in Colorado, managing a small art supply store, and working on her paintings. She doesn't do the oil and canvas, but rather does little 6”x4” watercolor pieces, and sells copies of the better ones for $12 or so in her shop. In fact, that was the last time we spoke; I called to ask her to pick a few out for my Christmas cards last week. My parents still ask when we're going to get back together.
My best friend, Brian, lives with me at my apartment, in the smaller room. I like him mostly because he's thoughtful and soft-spoken. We'd been friends since sophomore year, and decided to room together as seniors, and rumor had it that we kept the cleanest apartment on campus. He graduated a year later than me, switching to an English major after two years in Psychology, and hopes to attend grad school once he gets some money. For now, he works from the apartment part-time as a proofreader, and manages a blockbuster, so we get free rentals on most of the new movies. I even used to be a bit of a critic on my blog; now somewhat outdated. Brian's writing a novel, but he says he doesn't hold it too highly, because every English major is writing a novel. I replied, “Well if you're gonna write it, then you should at least aspire for greatness.”
“I'll keep my day job.”
I guess the thing that bothers me most... well, I guess that's inaccurate. Nothing really bothers me these days. City traffic in San Diego isn't bad at all. I'm only an hour from home, so the holidays aren't too expensive, and I'm doing well at my job, so I guess I couldn't call anything bothersome. Brian told me once that accuracy of words was very important, and I agree. But my problem... well, I'm not lonely, and I think my future is secure enough. When I have downtime, Brian and I watch a movie, or get something to eat, so I'm not even bored. I guess I'm concerned that I'm not really doing anything. If someone asks what I do for fun, it's mostly watching movies, and hanging out with friends. Nothing degradable, but I'm rarely exciting. I guess it's just not what I wanted.
I usually take my lunch breaks at a café across the street - they almost have my name down - but today I picked up a sandwich on my way in. At twelve, my boss calls me into his office; he wants to make sure my article for the quarterly is on time. He invites me to lunch, and I shrug and show him my sandwich. He's all about building personnel relationships, so he lets me know that it's cool, and we can do it some other time.
It's early December, so it's cold outside and a bit breezy. I zip up my parka, and head up the stairs. The door to the roof isn't locked, and I step out into the air, and, a few dozen stories closer to the sun than I'm used to, I shield my eyes. The wind isn't as bad as it seems in the movies. Taking a peek out over the edge, I can see the ocean, and even get the chance to make out a few waves while half-sitting on a raised vent, enjoying my sandwich.
The next day is work at nine, and I'm neither early nor late. The weather is clearer today than yesterday, but I think I'll stay indoors; eating a sandwich on the roof every day might spoil the flavor. Still, it was good to be up there, high in the city air, doing something.
Author's Notes said:
Song - OZMA - Restart
http://www.lyricattack.com/o/ozmalyrics/restartlyrics.html
More than happy to e-mail the song to anyone who asks; OZMA isn't shared much any more, they broke up awhile ago. Better yet, I can probably put it up on DC++, but I'm not online all the time, so you have to let me know when you want it.
Lol, apparently they got back together - and with a new drummer. Wheefun, new album coming out, I love them so much.
thanks for the critique, it was really helpful. The old ending was just weird in this kind of story, I think it would have been better left to someone like Thomas Wolfe or something.
