A vast right-wing conspiracy

I knew the day would come when my little bout with good luck (for a change) would come crashing down around me, and the universe would re-align in its usual pattern of “let’s heap more crap into Tasha’s life.”

Apparently, Wednesday was that day.

So in addition to the work (non-paying) that I’ve been doing for Schizle, I’ve also been doing some work (paying) for a Large Consulting Firm (LCF) on a part-time contract basis. This LCF (which shall remain unnamed, but the name means “Accent on the future!” No, seriously, that’s how they came up with it) happens to be the one that I worked for immediately after my graduation from Wharton, so it was kind of cool being back downtown in the same building, on the same floors, talking the same lingo.....though it was very Twilight Zone-esque as well. In any case, it was money, and things seemed to be going well, with me cranking out deliverables, working with people I liked who seemed to like me, etc. BUT, and this is a big but, I forgot the MOST important thing in consulting, the same thing that foiled me lo those many years ago: the criticality of Sucking Up to The Man. Yes, I know, HOW could I forget that? Duh! It’s just that it doesn’t come naturally, so I keep falling into the trap of thinking that if I do a good job at something, that’ll be enough. Ha, more fool I.

So this was supposed to be a long-term thing, and of course I was happy because that meant that perhaps I could actually pay off some of my ridiculous medical bills that I keep getting badgered about – not to mention stay ahead of the new ones I’ll be getting since it’s a new year, the deductibles and all that resets, and I have all these follow-up appointments with my various doctors. But then Monday I find out that there have been “cuts in the budget” and my role has been......eliminated. Damn. But I’ll still be on for a couple of weeks. Okay then. But then Wednesday I find out that oops, THAT’S my last day. And to add insult to injury, they’re getting rid of me, but keeping the other contractor whose only contribution to the whole project was in her continually adding a “Destination X” column to every goddamn spreadsheet I put together. Which I would then remove, because what the hell does that MEAN, anyway? Finally on Tuesday I decided to google it, to see if perhaps this was the latest and greatest consulting term that I had somehow missed. But, the only thing I found was about porn wrestling: “Don’t miss the humongous DESTINATION X expo in Las Vegas!! Wrestling porn like you’ve never seen before!” So, so much for that. Yet Miss Destination X had an “in” with The Man, or in this case The Woman, as her right-hand person so to speak, so she was kept on and I....was not.

Faithful Reader Natalie has also suggested that perhaps this was some kind of conspiracy by LCF, since this year they gave up their sponsorship of a major triathlon in Chicago, and now they unceremoniously boot me, the original Triathlon Goddess! Hmph. My other theory is that they discriminate against people with cancer, so I should probably sue them for all they’re worth. Hey, it’s a theory.

Needless to say, this had me kind of bummed out. What also had me bummed out was the prospect of my house blowing up. You see, a couple of weeks ago I got home from a concert with my mom, and discovered the Peoples Gas guys investigating a gas leak that a couple of neighbors had called in. They poked around outside, I let them into my basement to check things out, and they assured me that my house wouldn’t blow up, so I was mildly reassured. Then Wednesday the Peoples Gas guys are back, drilling holes in the street, so clearly the odor of gas was still around and they were trying to figure it out. Of course, I could have told them that it was probably that when the idiot contractors from the gut rehab next door dug up the street and redid the pipes and cables, they screwed something up, using pipes from Stan’s House of Shoddy Cut-Rate Piping.

Anyway, after hours of drilling, all was quiet. Until that evening, when Kona started barking like crazy and wouldn’t stop. I of course was Not In The Mood for this, so I bustled up to the front of the house ready to go postal on whatever miscreant was loitering in front of the house, upsetting the Kone. Then I see the flashing lights. Of 2 fire trucks. And there are about 15 firefighters milling about in front of the house. Hullo! Eye candy central! Except they’re standing on my front lawn and gesticulating downward, then making what looks to my untrained eye like sweeping, “this could all blow at any moment” gestures. I hustle out there, point out where the Gas people were working earlier, then go back inside to start packing up the Hummels and watch as they all leave....and Peoples Gas shows up about half an hour later. At about 10PM. To start drilling again. For hours.

And I’ve saved the most tragic part of this day for last. I went to the grocery store to buy dog food, and while I was there, figured I’d see what this whole “Cadbury Egg” craze was about. Oh, okay, I know what they are, but it sounds better to say that I just wanted to sample them. Except for one problem: THEY DIDN’T HAVE ANY! I know! Oh sure, they had the mini ones, which to me is just not worth it, all that foil peeling for so little payoff....and they had some orange crème ones which sounded beyond disgusting, but none of the originals. I know you’re thinking the same thing as I am - does it EVER end???

Note: An update on the gas leak – Peoples Gas left a gaping hole in the street, covered by a flimsy sheet of plywood and surrounded by cones, with a huge mound of dirt/concrete directly in front of my house. Not a soul came by to work on it yesterday......until 11 PM. Whereupon they brought out the backhoe to dig into the concrete, more jackhammers, and some kind of generator machine that they left on all night. From 11PM on. Do we want to take bets on what time they’ll show up tonight?