The Death of Communication

With all the accessable forms of communication today, it makes reaching out just that much easier. E-mail, cell phones, texts. Shit, you hardly ever hear another person's voice unless it's through you're head phones/speakers during a skype session.

So when the lines of communications fail, it makes it that much more disheartening.

Recently, I applied for a job. A good job, too. A massive resort was looking for someone to work their way up the ropes and perhaps take over a managing position. It would require some finagling, maybe some deceptive measures, and a lot of extra work, but damn if it wasn't worth the extra bucks. Three interviews(that went amazingly well) later, each a week apart, and I had my foot slipped right in the god damn door.

Then (in)Human Resources reared that ugly business-like head of theirs. They had requirements of me.

I met with an older woman in a maroon pressed business suit, who strut like she owned the place. She played the part to perfection; plastic-ivory smile, aqua-net hair, stockings(propably panty hose) and a well determined thought process applied to each click of her tongue. She was even twenty minutes late. Make em sweat a little. She sat me down, asked me mundane, nothing questions that were on a form somehwhere, memorized behind her face paint, and I gave perfect answers. She told me I had the job.

Pending...

I was like, " Pending? Pending what?"

First and foremost, my piercings had to go. My plugs aren't the biggest things in the world, black, and honestly, they've been a thorn in my side for close to seven years. Made of a pyrex glass, they were practically indestructable, and not too mention they had a major flange going on. I had jammed them in their when I was still in High School, and there they have remained since the day I swore I would not stretch them any further, I just wasn't that big a fan of the blood. Thery're stuck. Needless to say, yet I say it, I must have gave something away with my expression. I told her my predicament, but that I was also more than willing to get them out. I'd do everything in my power, save for tearing my damned ears off, to get them out. Baby. Bathwater. You get it.

Next. I had to shave. Everything. All of it. Wipe the slate clean and start over. ...okay. I could do that. Sure. Haven't shaved completely since before my voice completely changed(I've had a ghoatee since I was 15), but change is good so, yeah sure, I could do it. On board.

"You've got the job, " she told me, as she swiveled her chair back to her computer. " Pending you're drug screening. But get out those ear rings, call me, and I'll get you the paper work." She handed me her business card. " That's my direct line. Call me, and we'll finish this up." I smiled and was ushered out the door, questioning, what the hell just happened? I stood outside with a lopsided smile.  I have the job? Or don't I?

Curiouser and curiouser.

So, I decided to use this oppurtunity as a...spring board you could say. Change. Keyword here, if anything, is change. I'll flip it all. I needed it. Shit, I'm 25 and sometimes I feel like I'm 16. Get it together, should be the motto.

So, I did.

First, I quit smoking. I bought one of those e-cigarettes(saved my life!) and have been using that now for over three weeks, feeling great. Next, the plugs. Took a pair of plyers, yes, I said PLYERS, and crushed them while they sat in my earlobe. Wonderful. Next, threw everything else out the window, no more nothing. Any sort of toxin, quit, over, out.  Good, done. Next, detox. Bought a kit, did it, wonderful. Next, start pounding 100% unfiltered cranberry juice, flush those toxins! Done. Uncomfortably so, but done. Then, start the excercise. Started running, couple times a week, no biggie. Again, done.

I called them. Over. And over. And over again. The direct line. The other lines. I left message after message.

Yet, no one returned a call. Again, curiouser and curiouser.

Finally, after another week or so, I got a hold of the original woman I interviewed with, sweet lady, really liked me. She said HR had said that I wasn't interested because of the ear rings. What? " I crushed them with plyers! I want the job!" She told me she'd have HR call me the next day, get the paperwork in order and we'd get me to work.

Eureka! I've got the job. Again...

Yet, when tomorrow came, my phone never rang. Or the day after that. And the day after that.

I get in touch with the girl again, the one I interviewed with, yet, something has changed. She doesn't seem to like me very much anymore, something in her tone. " Yeah, um, HR said they sent you an e-mail," she says. " Unfortunately, we filled the position while we were waiting for you to respond. Sorry." Click.

WTF. What e-mail?

So, as aptly titled, The Death of Communication, I say, screw you corporation; with your fancy dress suits and your stupid circular driveway with the BMW's. Thanks. Merry Christmas to you, too.

And by the way, fuck off.

A phone call would have been nice.