Saturday, June 16, 2007

WJOL sux0rz

Someday we'll get nostalgic for disaster

They say that when you want to consider the value of time, to ask various people. The value of a month, ask a woman who just gave birth to a premature baby. The value of a second, ask the person who just avoided an accident. As I sit here at WJOL, heading into hour number four, I've fogotten the value of time. In fact, I've forgotten the value of being busy. I can't remember what it's like to not be bored. I'm a bored board-op. A bored-op, if you will.

I'm one of those unfortunate people who can hear the high-pitched electronic signals. If a television is on nearby, I'll know. This was a point of contention for ex-roomie Kate and I, when you had to (gasp) manually turn our dorm's TV on and off, so Kate, whenever she was done with watching her show, would just turn the TV to an input channel, or put it on mute. She couldn't hear the signal, so it was as good as off for her. I, on the other hand, would wake up from a nap, annoyed, with a migraine. This dog-like super power of mine is good for conserving electricity, but very bad for my chosen career path, what with all the equipment that makes all sorts of fun noises.

Annoyance of the minute: WJOL is holding me hostage. Apparently "Sure, I can work between 11 and 3" means "I can be here indefinately, because my other job which needs me there at 4 isn't important at all". This is now the second week in a row that I've had to call Friday's to tell them I was going to be late due to a radio conflict. This is the last time I work a radio job prior to an important committment. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, I'm one fooling away from burning the studio down, Office Space stylie.

Suddenly, time seems very important. Funny how this happens.

Annoyance update: Apparently, this is my fault. I should have known that whenever one works a game, one stays until the end. Nevermind that I didn't know that. Nevermind that no one told me there was a game. I guess it's my fault for expecting my employer to respect me. Friday's has spoiled me, it seems.

Enough ranting. The bright side of this is I now have more time to ponder whether or not I should stop for gas and fast food on my way back to Bolingbrook. On one hand, it's not Friday's fault that my free hour went away. On the other hand, spending 15 extra minutes to not run out of gas on the way there, and not pass out from starvation might be worth it. The philosophical questions are mounting.

As I think I'm actually on the verge of transcending from "annoyed" to "angry", it's time to get my fingers off the keyboard.

Cathi out.

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