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THERE IS A GLITCH IN THE SYSTEM AND I CAN’T HELP YOU

May 23, 2011

When I moved into my current apartment, I didn’t have internet for months. There was some confusion about who really lived here, and Time Warner wouldn’t give me all the X-Files on instant Netflix I wanted until I brought in a lease and s’d someone’s d and waited three months. Is there anything worse? Yes, and it’s when your internet goes out again and you wonder who, if anyone, can help you, and then you realize you should be able to help yourself because you worked the tech support graveyard shift for three years in the basement of a parking garage.

When I tell people about this job, it’s is not an invitation for providing them with tech support. Most people understand this as little as I understand how to fix your internet connection. I do know how to put you on hold while I google your question. The best part about my job was getting emails from music company’s about how BBoy69pLaYa@hotmail.com had downloaded illegal music and I had to call him and tell him to cut the crap or else he faced absolutely nothing. Sometimes I would look the offender up on facebook to see what other music they were into so that they would 1. think I was psychic and 2. thought we had something in common. I swear to God if you download any more Switchfoot we will come after you. Wait, just kidding, I don’t really care and you probably deserve whatever’s coming to you.

I don’t know if I was the only girl that applied for the job or if it was some equal opportunity thing, but I was the only girl out of about 15 people. When I told my mom that I was applying for the job, she told me to use words like “RAM” and “memory” and “hard drive” during the interview and I guess it worked because I stayed for three years. And while I’m fairly confident that I do an absolutely perfect job at most things, 2007 shook me up more than 2001 (RIP Aaliyah) because of this:

But I guess all good things come to an end, and it was time for me to take up a job sitting in neighborhoods counting how many people went in and out of a specific houses. I was told by my staffing agency if someone were to approach my car, my options were to 1. freak out on them, 2. pretend I was asleep, or 3. drive away. If it happened often enough, you could experiment with the order of reactions. WAKE UP / FREAK OUT / DRIVE AWAY, or my favorite, DRIVE AWAY / WAKE UP / FREAK OUT. I also had to role-play a phone call in an interview once, pretending my hand was a telephone and that the man sitting across from me needed to renew insurance for an 18-wheeler. I quit when he said ring ring.

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