March 12, 2002 | 10:32 AM

7R)### Thurston St.

It�s the big economic boom of 2000. Corporate America throws oodles and oodles of money into pork projects. Now more than ever suckers in suits want to research the latest trends, beef up their customer service centers, and squeeze every possible penny out of the nouveau riche American consumer.

Our stocks are going through the roof! What should we do with all this extra capitol?

I know! Let�s pay The Stupid Company to harass people during dinner hour!

New clients come through the woodwork. There are more and more projects. I work more and more and more hours. Someone posts the following slogan on the phone room bulletin board:

Welcome to The Hotel Stupid Company. You can check out any time you like. But you can never leave.

How very very appropriate.

To my horror, even my dreams center around the Stupid Company. In sleep and in waking life, I am always there. I am burning out. But see�soon, everything is going to be fine. Just fine. So I�m told.

Soon, all of the extra time we spent at The Stupid Company will pay off. The Stupid Company is growing by leaps and bounds and will turn a 2 million dollar profit this year. Just think what this means! Soon we will all be rewarded and promoted and given huge salary increases! We are starry eyed, or rather dollar-sign eyed.

The credit for this fabulous turn of events is given to LonnieMcMorman, the new vice president of The Stupid Company.

LonnieMcMorman has a giant moon face and a tinny laugh. He struts back and forth down the halls in his bargain basement designer suits, swinging around his critical alligator briefcase. He makes a point out of not saying hello to anyone earning less than fifty-thousand dollars a year. I picture him gleefully writing lists of all the people at the Stupid Company who are less important than he is, and celebrating with a glass of Crystal each time a name is added.

But.

Supposedly he knows everything there is to know about marketing research, and has these shadowy contacts in the financial industry. See, McMorman has some kind of grand master plan. And, we are told, this plan will in the end benefit us all beyond our wildest marketing research dreams. Just hang in there kids and work your eighty hour week. The Promised Land is not far away, and I ain�t talkin� �bout Utah.

Shortly after I switch to the day shift, Collin is promoted out of the Data Collection department and becomes a Project Manager, thus crowning Seth reluctant king of the phone room.

We are short staffed and barely capable of keeping up with the workflow. We need more supervisors. Lynn and Ryan are promoted to management and Angus is moved to days along with me.

So now it�s John, Lynn, and Ryan supervising the night and me, Angus, and Seth ruling over the day.

When I asked to be put on days, I thought I was curing all the problems. I guess I figured John would miss spending time with me. Miss being able to eat dinner with me and play guitar with me and sleep with me. I guess I thought recusing myself from the night time proceedings would enable John to see the error of his ways�leave the Stupid Company and go to grad school or become an English teacher, just like we�d�I mean he�d-- planned.

Wrong again.

When our schedules diverge, John shrugs his shoulders and finds other things to do. Namely, Lynn.

He and Lynn, who originally was my friend, are suddenly joined at the hip. They go out after work almost every single night and stay out until three in the morning. They are just friends, but they might as well not be. It is obvious that John is completely enamored of her. She looks like Sally Struthers circa All in the Family and is a math genius. She is sweet and fun to be with and can drink anybody under the table. All I hear is Lynn this and Lynn that. I am so jealous I could scream. The strange irony is that Lynn thinks I am the sun, the moon, and the stars. She looks up to me. Comes to me with her problems. Just wants to honestly be my friend. And here I am, wishing she didn�t exist.

Often, when John and Lynn go out drinking all night, he doesn�t bother to call and let me know.

I have nightmares about being back at that 6th grade outdoor education field trip and being told my father died, only in the dream it is John who perisheshes.

Each and every time he forgets to call I have a tiny nervous breakdown. I picture him dead in a ditch. I call Kreuz and Joe and inquire if they�ve seen him. I anxiously phone the typical watering holes and ask the bartender if he sees a curly red headed boy sporting indie rock specs and slamming Budweisers.

Oh yeah. He�s with a cute little blonde.

When John gets on the phone I am relieved.

Fuck you, you sonofabitch.

I slam down the phone.

Yea. Now I have ruined everyone�s evening.

I am angry. So fucking angry at how this�how my life-- has turned out.

So. Where is a girl to go when she�s starved for sex love and the right kind of attention?

I�ll tell you where I went.

Right back into Angus�s arms.

Stay tuned for part the Thirty-Fifth

You had to sneak into my room!

Just to read my diary!

Was it just to see all the things

You knew I'd written about you?

And...so many illustrations!

I'm so very sickened!

Oh, I am so sickened NOW!

So you might as well read the whole SAGA from the very BEGINNING!

time capsule from heaven - Sunday, Aug. 21, 2011
31 - Saturday, Mar. 15, 2008
Dead/Alive - Monday, Mar. 10, 2008
Do not trustTIAA-CREF-- they are fucking their customers - Friday, Jul. 28, 2006
Shilling - Tuesday, Jul. 11, 2006

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