The Salamander Hangs At Starbucks, Pt. 2

Yahoo!*Hot*jobs. JuJu . SimplyHired. Monster.com. USA Jobs. I know ‘em all, and a few score others. You can spend hours bouncing like a ping-pong ball from site to site, looking for that elusive will o’ the wisp job.

The closest thing I’ve come to finding that fits my desires and skill sets is located in Wisconsin. It’s nearly identical to what I’ve been doing, plus what the person over me was doing PLUS what the head of the laboratory at my former employer was doing. Those two people and I at my last job had eight full-time people responding to the collective lot of us, plus perhaps another dozen who reported peripherally to us. This job in Wisconsin has two people reporting to it, both of them lab tech types. I believe I know who the employer is, based on the city the job is posted for, and I hadn’t before thought they were quite so self-deluded. I now know why my compatriot at that company in another location has been so perpetually disgruntled. And here I thought *I* had it tough!

I have become disconcertingly comfortable with this new routine. This morning I slept in until 6:00 am, got blood work done at the local Quest Diagnostics at 6:30, then ran my latest two feline fosters (two orange head intact male kittens that I named Simon and Garfunkel) (Simon was the shyer short-haired dilute orange tabby, and Garfunkel was the bolder, long-haired bright-orange nut-case) over to our shelter’s veterinarian to have their thoughts parted from their intentions.

I next stopped by Pep Boys to make arrangements for an oil change and some low-cost repairs made to my poor little Prius tomorrow morning. I see so few Generation 1 Priuses on the road any more, I feel like I’m driving a relic. Now I’ve been occupying the corner comfy seat at my local Starbucks, freeloading off their internet and making one cup of coffee last for two hours (which is the only way to get your money’s worth here). I tire of the hunt, so I decided to take a break and watch the people I share my office space with.

A surprising number of people use Starbucks as their internet escape. Several of us have been here for hours now. The gentleman at the table next to me (who reminds me of Ilie Nastase, except that he’s aging better than poor Ilie is) has watched my Acer while I make bathroom runs, and I’ve returned the favor, keeping an eye on his Vaio while he steps outside for smoking breaks. Another guy across from me who looks a little bit like Burle Ives in a Charlie Brown stripy polo shirt has been attached to his full-sized HP laptop for at least two hours.

The blonde with the Dell has taken up occupancy on the full sized leather sofa in the other corner about half-an hour ago. I already don’t like her. She’s got size 8 jogging grays on over her size 2 body, has a huge black leather bag settled on a chair at a table immediately adjacent to her, has a brief case and yellow oversized purse on the sofa next to her, and a small pile of paperwork on the coffee table immediately in front of her. She’s wearing ear plugs hooked directly into her laptop, and I’m annoyed enough to imagine she’s listening to Miley Cyrus or the Jonas Brothers or some such ilk. At least the rest of us living here take up no more than two-people’s worth of space apiece; she’s taking up enough space for a family of five.

Our small lap-top flotilla is complete. The guy between Burle Ives and me (Imagine John Thaw with a bigger nose) has just pulled out his Apple.

I need to get a life.