So it’s been a tumultuous couple of weeks working for the old census. My crew leader got demoted to a mere assistant crew leader, which I thought was dumb because she was obviously the nicest person working there. Nicer even than Nice Guy perhaps. I knew for sure that I liked her forever when I was at a meeting and Awful Woman was wheedling away about some kind of nonsense that upset her and my crew leader looked over at me with a sort of “oh-god-there-she-goes-again” look. The enemy of mine enemy is my sort of friend and sort of boss.

Crew leader’s boss, the Field Operations Supervisor, or FOS also got canned. This was the guy who was super full of himself. I imagine visions of himself karate kicking bad guys run through his head roughly 90% of the time his brain is active. Apparently he was doing a crappy job of organizing things. This may explain why two of my paychecks were significantly shorter than they should have been. Turns out someone above me handed in my time sheets too late so I didn’t get the money until two weeks later. I only found this out after calling a gajillion people, asking the new crew leader and being told to fill out a paper basically stating “Bitch, where my money?” The government is a bloated, lurching behemoth from which I will gladly accept money.

So we had to have a meeting to meet the new FOS and have her yell at us about not doing our jobs in ways we were never told to do them. She said that our meetings always ran too long and then that exact meeting ran wayyyy too long. People continued to bitch and moan about all kinds of things like “I go to houses and sometimes no one is home.” Honestly. Then something truly amazing happened. I’ve had a habit of twisting my hair since I was five years old. It’s something I do without realizing it, usually when I’m concentrating on something. Well apparently this was really ruining the life of motherfucking Blonde Leonard Nimoy. I’ll share this exchange with you:

BLN: Sweetheart, do you have any idea how goofy you look when you do that?

Me: I don’t really care.

BLN: Have you tried getting a ponytail?

Me: Getting? You mean like wearing my hair up?

BLN: Yeah, so you don’t do that.

Me: I’d still do it. I’ve done it since I was five.

BLN: Oh.

And then I pretty much just walked away from her. I later looked over at her and realized what I should have said was “I look goofy? You’re the one wearing Mr. Spock’s face under a straw hat wrapped in motherfucking crystals. Not to mention your all denim ensemble with fake “southwestern” bullshit embroidered all over it. You look like Leonard Nimoy trying to go incognito to the county kitchen rodeo by dressing in drag. Looking at you is basically causing different parts of my brain to barf on each other after what you just said to me. I am probably going to have a stroke from the strain of trying to explain to you exactly how far beyond goofy you look.”

But joy of joys, that horrible woman got transferred out of my group and I never have to see her again. Awful woman remains though. There is much more to tell but I’ll save it for another update.