Most people in San Juan already know what to say when they see one of us. “Sorry, I have Magic Valley.” I didn’t even approach some of these people. One woman walked up to me, smiling and then blatantly told me, “Oh I have Magic Valley. I can’t switch.” Bitch, I didn’t even ask you. By the end of my shift, people would look over to the table and when I’d look up at them they’d just shake their heads. I didn’t even ask you either.
Truth is, I work better with a partner. I can bring people in, inform them and what not, but I’m no good at getting them to sign their lives away – I mean, switching their light company. [Redacted] has worked the stores for three years now. People who want to change have tried. Those who don’t still don’t. Those who can’t, well, they still can’t. We need new blood. And the only reason the “go getters” are still getting sign ups is because they’re selected for better places and have lack of work ethics. They’re liars and cheaters. I’ve only been with [redacted] for a week and I know this already.
I had a strange dream last night, come to think of it. [Redacted] always leaves me tired, for some odd reason. So I slept in this morning. I was in an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting with Izzy and a few other people who I know aren’t alcoholics. Izzy, of course, is only thirteen. After the AA meeting, we headed off to a bookstore located next to my house. I saw Doug – the general manager for the Edinburg Roadrunners – there along with several co-workers. The bookstore was more of a club than a bookstore, despite all the shelves of books. Strobe lights and fog machines, possibly music. There was a kid section where several parents left their children slumbering.
The other day, a co-worker at [redacted] – not fully thinking – walked up to a couple of girls and said, in that loud salesman voice of his, “Excuse me.” When they look up, brace-smiles and all, he went pink (as pink as he could get) as these girls couldn’t be more than fourteen. Thinking quick, he added, “Would you all like some candy?” Oh yeah, that wasn’t creepy at all.
Meester Binx hinted that I might be afraid of seeing Miranda the other day. He suggested we should solicit her neighborhood – we were doing a door-to-door mission for [redacted] – and I shrugged, hinting that maybe we should focus on my neighborhood (big mistake, by the way). It’s not so much that I’m afraid of seeing Miranda, it’s that my mind is too occupied with other things that I really don’t want her – our – (former) friendship to take center stage, as it so often does. Besides, I have more on my mind lately.
I’ve been dwelling on the past a lot lately. But it’s okay, according to Scientific American Mind, it’s good for me to do so. And while it’s not to my liking, I’m focusing a lot of that what ifs. I started writing something I’m calling “Life Alternate” in which I view different scenarios of my past and where I’d be had I just taken the leap. From relationships that ended badly to those that never blossomed to undo decisions to taking those missed opportunities. I suppose it’s closure. Or maybe it’s masochism that drives me. Either way, I’m hoping that the project gets me writing again.
I also started penning a short story the other day. I don’t want to get into details, but it’s making me happy that I’m writing something again. Something that’s actually challenging me to write. Something I plan on editing and hoping to send off to some magazine. Hopefully. As for “Life Alternate,” I don’t know if it’ll become anything important to me. I don’t know a lot of things, really. I’m too tired to continue to write. I’ll talk about [redacted] some more tomorrow. I have nothing to really add to my current situation with the green company. However, the banal existence that has become my life in my days of working for [redacted] has sparked some inspiration. I like writing about banal situations. Banal, I love that word. And not because it’s anal with a b in front of it. That’s just silly.
“If you don’t mind me asking, who’s your current electric provider?” I’m not cut out for [redacted] but I don’t like quitting so soon (for those who know me, you probably think I’m lying and you’d be right, but shut up).
Friday had Binx and me over at Weslaco. We both got two each, but Saturday brought me the gift of a call back. Three in one weekend isn’t impressive. Here’s hoping they pass. I stayed over at Casa de Binx Friday night because we were scheduled together. Supervisor calls and asks if we can stay longer than scheduled and work an event that started at 10am. We stayed there until five with nothing to show for it. Depressing, needless to say. Two of the top sellers didn’t leave with anything, either. The event was dead.
Today was bad. I’m thinking San Juan is a lost cause. I made even less than Saturday. Here’s hoping to a better Tuesday. Maybe come up with some better ideas to switch/sign-up people.
There’s this recurring theme in my life: I’m just a passenger, staring out the window of whatever bus, car, train I happen to be in as someone else drives. I’m at their will. They’re future is mine. I’ve been too afraid to take matters into my own hands because of my fear of failure. I look head on as the car zips toward its destination, only to smash into an oncoming vehicle. I’m propelled through the windshield and am suspended in the air, slowly twisting as the glass pebbles fly around me. I have enough time to count them all until I collide with the other vehicle. I kindly smile at the other driver and utter my last words, “I guess I’m your passenger now.”
I always imagine Iggy Pop playing as this happens, but now I’m thinking The Apples In Stereo is probably a better choice.
I chatted with my ex-girlfriend online the other night. The night of my first day at work, if I’m correct. She, like several other people, have asked me when I’m planning to pop the question, get married and start breeding. In the history of my family, it seems the breeding starts, a question is kinda asked and the marriage is an inevitability. The latter rarely survives. No, I’m not saying I’m content with my current situation. I do want a family and I do want to get married, but there is just so much shit that has tainted my view on family. In my experience, family isn’t a good thing.
Marriages end and partnerships are severed. Some are doomed and others flourish during dire times. And some have a bit fatherly affection to push it off the cliff to the inevitable. My father is the model of manhood that I’d rather not be associated with. He blamed my mother for barring him from our lives, when it was the other way around. And even though we were doing fine without him, some of us decided that it was best to reconnect. I’ve tried many times and allowed myself to forgive him for the past. And new problems have started up and I have no one else to blame but a recycled scapegoat. Odd enough, said scapegoat has the impeccable timing as to return into our lives the moments the relationship goes sour.
I won’t blame my father for his transgressions, or mine. Nor those of any family member who insists on communicating with him. Because, really, we’re all passengers of the same car. Just waiting for that impending head on collision. I’m going to live a little dangerously, as well. No seat belts. Just me and the windshield.
Here I am, the whore, wanting more while you’re idle to my ways. I walked the streets familiar to me, watching out for your voice echoing from the past, hidden in the corners of my mind. Here is your cage, here is your key. Here is the prisoner, here is the king. Let’s see if I can get it right this time, because my words are tired and heavy.
Kiss me once and kiss me twice, I know I’m mean and I know I’m nice. Sing the songs that made us wrong – cries and cries about it all…
And here I am, still wanting more. Here I am, happy being miserable while remaining nameless in the ambiguity of teenage letters, framing the words that I once thought were brilliant. I painted you to be the monster and I painted myself as the martyr; I’m no artist. There I go, writing the first stupid line that comes to mind.
Immobility has inspired me. I’m happy for your success. I’m happy you’ve learned to live without my presence. And I hope that I can achieve the same. Because I’ve learned the more I attempt to put you back into the corner of my head, which was once your home for so long, the more I miss you.
I must return my attention to the music. It’s filling me with glee. It’s filling and teaching me.
Today was my first day with [redacted] and after constant questioning if I’m nervous, Binx succeeded in making me nervous. Slightly. It was my first day on the floor so I “shadowed” and learn how it’s done. Every opposition to the guy who was braving the waters, I would conjure up the proper rebuttal in my head. After a while, my only response I was making mentally was “Thank you for your time.” Most of the customers were Magic Valley Electric Company (MVEC) customers which means they’re off-limits.
Frustrated with the bust, my co-worker and I decided to go door-to-door. Because San Juan was turning us loose with MVEC customers, we opted for neighboring McAllen. We told our supervisor if he agreed and when he asked me if I was going to ask, I said I would. Oddly enough, my comfort zone includes knocking on people’s doors and asking them, “Who’s your current electric provider?”
I didn’t come out with a sign-up, but I did leave a flier with a potential sign-up (she wanted me to talk to her son) and a few more with people who might opt out of their current service. We’ll see.
I’ll get the hang of the job, but hopefully something hourly comes up for me. I applied for Walgreens, Lowes and Radioshack so far. I’m thinking of applying for Convergys – hopefully a work-at-home gig due to my lack of transportation. That way I can save up for education, a ring, a possible future.