February 07, 2002 | 6:31 PM

5F)### Com Ave (Kenmore Square)

After Willie died a pall was cast over The Stupid Company. There was so much rage and sadness. Somebody had to be blamed. We were all in for it anyway. But when he left he took the good times with him.

At the beginning of the summer, all of the interviewers under the age of 27 (mostly college students working full time while on break) had formed a loosely knit clique known as The Kent*Pope*Instat*Collective. We sat at the back of the phone room. We were The Bad Kids. We goofed off, took too much time for lunch, came to work stoned, and drank on break. We happened to be the most intelligent productive Interviewers there, and we got our shit done. So at first the managers were amused by our smart-ass ways�they were after all pretty much our age and nobody�manger or interviewer-- took �Actionable Teleresearch� seriously. But it was their asses on the line drawn by Upper Management. And finally we pushed too far.

The managers were pissed. They had let us get away with whatever we wanted as long as we did the work. But after a month or so of no discipline we stopped working at all. It seemed like we could get away with anything, so why bother? An hour would go by and nobody would have made a phone call. There were frequent sing-alongs much to the annoyance of anyone actually attempting to get work done. Lorraine painted her nails. Mike listened to his Walkman. Josh and I read tarot cards. Each of us came up with fake names to use on the phone.

Hello, my name is Sharon Needles and I am calling on behalf of XYZ inc....?

Good evening. My name is Rich King and I�m calling from BlahBlah Insuranceland. ..

I had first started working at the Stupid Company while homeless, and was so grateful just to have a place to go all day that I treated my puny slightly more than minimum wage position as though it were The Most Important Job Ever. The managers were thankful beyond belief. And hey--I liked the managers and they liked me. We were all artsy types. I became good friends with all of them over time. Hell, I even slept with one of them.

Now I was sick to death of it. I resented being there. It was boring. I felt trapped. My personal life had been put through the shredder, and I was finally beginning to have some fun. Fuck �Actionable Teleresearch�.

Of all the interviewers, I fell farthest fastest.

Don�t get me wrong. I was never rude to anyone. It�s not my style. I was just chronically tardy and didn�t get anything done.

The managers were not amused.

Meetings were called. Jobs were threatened. The Kent*Pope*Instat*Collective was broken up and weren�t aloud to sit together. It was like being in kindergarten. And we completely deserved it. We were a huge bunch of assholes.

Sitting all by myself making phone calls, I had a lot of time to think. I thought about how many things I had fucked up that year. I�d been kicked out of college. I�d been homeless. I�d been in abusive living situations. I�d been a burden to people. I was ashamed of myself. I wanted to be a different person. I wanted to be someone new. I didn�t want people to think of me anymore as Anna The Wild Fuck Up. I wanted to have my shit together.

I thought about Willie. I thought about how easily it is to just disappear off the face of the planet.

I needed a goal. Going back to college seemed so out of reach�I had lost my scholarship and didn�t know how to go about getting it back. Getting another job�a real job with responsibility and decent pay-- seemed unlikely. I didn�t have a degree. I didn�t have any real experience. I didn�t have any idea how people even got jobs like that.

Somehow I got it into my head that the way to go about redeeming myself was to be promoted within the Stupid Company. If the managers could see that I was a capable person, someone who could handle supervising other people, someone who worked really hard, then maybe I would be A Capable Person. If the Stupid Company would deem me a worthy employee, then maybe I would be A Worthy Person. Worthy of having my own apartment. Worthy of being able to eat three times a day. Worthy of being able to see a doctor when I was sick. Worthy of being a functioning member of society.

The Stupid Company became to me that all too common archetype, The Daddy Figure I Tried Desperately To Impress.

I worked harder than I had ever worked in my life. I got to work 15 minutes before every shift. I came back early from lunch. I made more phone calls than you could shake a stick at.

When I had my review with Colin the Head Manager, we wound up talking for a good hour and half. He told me The Stupid Company desperately needed another manager but couldn�t find anyone capable who was willing to do it for the salary offered. I had been considered as an option but my previous performance made everyone very nervous.

At the mere mention of a possible promotion, I became Clarence Darrow. I made a case for myself so well thought out and pragmatic even Antonin Scalia would have been won over.

Collin was moved by my determination. He told me he would talk to the other managers and he�d get back to me over then next few weeks.

I walked out of that office just knowing I had that promotion.

Yes indeed. It would be smooth sailing ahead.

Of course at that point I didn�t know about fire #2.

Stay tuned for part the thirteenth...

And if you haven�t read the whole saga and want to catch up, click Here