February 12, 2002 | 6:25 PM

7A) ### Thurston Street

I want you to ask yourself a question.

The question is this.

Why on earth would I work an $8.00/hour job, the sole activity of which is to constantly harass consumers via phone during their precious dinner hour, and ask them pointless questions just so that some hack corporate suit can report back to his manager with (highly skewed) data supporting an absurd conclusion said hack corporate suit had already come to anyways?

The answer to that question may be,

Well Anna, because I am a 19 year old college student and doing a job like that sure beats shoveling shit for beer money. So eat me.

And that is a perfectly good answer. That�s the best answer. If that�s your answer, good for you, because you are the only person who should be working as an Interviewer at the Stupid Company. Approximately 50% of the interviewers working at the Stupid Company answered correctly. They all get gold stars. And so do you.

Here are some of the other ways in which you could have answered that question. These are the wrong answers.

Because I�m 35 years old and I didn�t graduate high school and I read at a second grade level and no one else on the planet will hire me except the Stupid Company because they are desperate and don�t pay enough to hire anyone qualified.

or

Because although I�m very bright, I have no fucking idea what I want to do with my life, and I lack self esteem. So I�m going to bide my time here until something else comes along. I�m going to work here until a magic hand drops out of the sky, scoops me up, and takes me to a job that it more conducive to my IQ. Because I�m delusional that way. Oh--And I am a lazy bastard.

(That would have been the answer I gave when I was an interviewer.)

Or how about this one.

Because I am an undiagnosed paranoid schizophrenic and since everyone who works at The Stupid Company is crazy, I will fit in there quite well.

(Actually that one isn�t wrong. Patricia McGee, I apologize to you.)

Now I want you to ask yourself this question.

Why on earth would I work a $10.00/hour job, the sole activity of which is to make sure other people constantly harass consumers via phone during their precious dinner hour, and ask them pointless questions so that some hack corporate suit can report back to his manager with (highly skewed) data supporting an absurd conclusion said hack corporate suit had already come to anyways?

Say what? I didn�t catch that. What did you say?

Oh. Well, I regret to inform you that you have answered incorrectly.

What�s that? What are the right answers?

Gee, I�m sorry. There are no right answers to that question.

Thanks for playing. Here are some lovely parting gifts.

There is absolutely no good reason to take a job as Supervisor of Data Collection at the Stupid Company. None. It is a thankless job that requires too much time and effort and pays didilisquat.

But I didn�t know that in September of 1998. In September of 1998, it was a blessing. It was the key to a Grown-Up-Kind-of-Life.

Sort of.

And it served its purpose.

For awhile.

I saw The Stupid Company as The Daddy Figure I Tried Desperately to Please, and like most father/daughter relationships of that nature, it began with a mixture of deep affection and fear on my part, and ended with defiant rage and abandonment issues.

What care had I in September of 1998? Life was grand. I had a safe nurturing housing situation with two wonderful roommates and their kitties. I had a job that, psychotic though it was, gave me a sense of responsibility and accomplishment, and paid me well enough to suit my lifestyle.

And.

And I had John.

As Stevie says,

When you�re young and in love the whole world loves you.

Stay Tuned for Part the Eighteenth�

And if you aren�t caught up on the saga and want to know what you�ve missed, click HERE