the pieces of my life

I’m starting to think that it’s not a good sign when I sit down at the black jack table and the dealer says, “Hey Downtown,” and then I call to the pit boss, “Hey Greg, I need tracking,” and he calls back, “Don’t worry, Jenny, I saw ya and got ya down.” But I’m still running pretty close to even, and it’s sucking up a lot of my off time. Last night of serious gambling, since it’s back to F.C. tomorrow (tonight?). A bit o’ black jack, some $3.95 steak and eggs, and a bit more black jack to round out my night. Off to bed. May not be able to do much updating while I’m at the warehouse, as all four waves are here and working the next few nights, which means competition for the computers may be fierce. But, while tomorrow night is the first night for wave 4 (wait, I mean tonight), we’re close to gone. Focus on the candy. Remember the candy (who can name that reference?).

I sure hope that guy’s showered between last shift and tonight’s shift.

So even with all of us moving into Crisplant for part of the night, we broke night-shift gift wrapping records. I myself wrapped 146 presents yesterday.

More gifts I don’t want: John Denver Unplugged, Pop-up Book of Phobias, computer game: Mary-Kate and Ashley: Crush Course

After all that eleventh hour crap, my day off got off to a great start starting last night (or is that actually this morning?) with bloody marys at 5:30 a.m. An hour an a half at the black jack table, and I walked away up $6.50 (even after those five drinks–four of which were free). And then, my peeps are the best peeps. They sent me a great big gift basket of wine, bubble bath, cookies, and candy. This place is surreal–the Wheel of Fortune slot machines are now in my dreams. Christmas carols are piped in over the sounds of the casino. People are at those slot machines at all hours. And of course, for us, day is night and night is day. But tonight is all-you-can-eat dinner at the Rotisserie Restaurant, and then it’s a double header at the movies. Tomorrow night is bowling at the Hilton (how odd is that?). Hit the Laundromat this evening so my clothes are nice and fresh. And I still have per diem burning a hole in my pocket.

Break 2

We’ve hit that portion of the trip where I’m starting to get irritable. I’ve had–shall we say words?–with one of the team leads about the whispers of mandatory eleven hour days for all of next week. Ain’t gonna happen. No way, no how. I will get on a plane back to Seattle first and let them fire me.

Gift wrap is piling up, which frustrating because they keep sending us off to Crisplant, which is slow, slow, slow. We just stand around waiting for the lights to go off.

And they still haven’t replaced the ice cream in the vending machine. And that guy still hasn’t showered.

Lunch

I HATE CRISPLANT!!

Break 1

In our stand-up, they asked, “Does everyone know about the eleventh hour? If you don’t raise your hand.” I, along with the rest of the Seattle crew and a few other did. “Tonight Associates must work a mandatory eleventh hour. I.A.s [Integrity Associates, because apparently “temp” is no longer p.c.] are strongly encouraged to work the eleventh hour.” The Seattle folks were not happy and we asked if the bus back to the Nugget would wait for us. We were told that Seattle folks were strongly, strongly encouraged to work the extra hour and that we could get rides home with the team leads who have cars, but they couldn’t make us work the extra hour. I didn’t grow up in the Reagan years and learn nothing: I just said no.

More gifts I don’t want: poems by Jewel, The History of Torture, Death Scenes

It’s Friday, it’s Friday. Tonight, I shall have my bloody mary at the blackjack table.

Break 2

• Friggin’ vending machine! I’ve been looking forward to an ice cream sandwich since break 1, and the machine is out of them! Other ice cream just won’t do.
  
• The guy who comes around and tallies up our numbers knows my name, but still always says, “Thank you, young lady,” when I’ve given him my totals. He needs a shower pretty badly.
  
• I think I’d like to write an essay, “Working Graveyard with Smelly People, or How I Spent My Christmas Vacation.”
  
• Just another hour to go until it’s like Thursday night, which means tomorrow is Friday, it’s Friday!
  

Lunch

Getting fried chicken all over the keyboard and my apron (this year, a festive red with deep pockets). The night is going quickly: I’m on complete autopilot. I like having the late lunch because it means the end of the evening will pass quickly.

Gifts I don’t want (besides a salad spinner): Naked L.A., Naked N.Y. (not any other Naked City for that matter), Barbie Shake and Make Lipstick or Nail Kit.

Break 1

Feeling the burn tonight. Switched shoes, and so far feet are fair. But I’m feeling sleepier tonight than any other night. Barely standing.

I’m waiting to get my ass kicked by a bunch of little old ladies. Multis cleared out last night, so another away-teamer and I were sent downstairs to singles. The woman in charge so obviously didn’t want us there, but the operations manager insisted. She set us up, saying, “Well, here’s a siscors, but it don’t work. There’s no tape at this station.” The O.M. is running around finding us supplies and we finally start in at 3:50. We get about five items done each when the woman comes back and says, “We stop at 4. You gotta clean up now.” The other wrapper says, “Let me just finish my tote,” and the woman says, “No, you gotta clean now.” We had back to out original stations and run into the O.M. who’s asking why were headed back. I told him, “They stop at 4 over there,” and a woman standing behind him shoots daggers at me. The O.M. was instantly on the phone making sure that they no longer end early. I’m waiting for the singles wrapping posse to find me in a corner of the F.C. to get me for ratting them out.

Tonight’s gift card so far: The gift: Gay Men Straight Jobs. The card: “Maybe you should add your job.”

Found out tonight that in addition to taking over Delivers, I’ll also be taking on SNPs.