I got sort-of in trouble at work today.

At the telemarketing place I'm currently in a leg of training they call transition, which means I'm being prepped to go out on the floor for realsies and be the best little newspaper seller I can be.

Meet me in real life. I'm subdued, low key, even apathetic. The only way a newspaper would excite me is if it somehow morphed into one of those acorn-sized vibrators and started stimulating my clitoris.

This job requires that I be upbeat and aggressive, and I don't think I can do it. Especially when my supervisor comes over to me, tells me to take off my headphones and forces me to watch her do it (and fail). I sat there the entire time, getting more and more nauseous, as she did what she called "building rapport" with this poor woman who was just trying to get off the phone so she could take her kids to school. As far as I was aware (until this morning), a rapport is not one-sided. When the woman finally got fed up and hung up on her, I stared into my computer screen (still trying not to barf all over her in disgust) and nodded at all her suggestions.

When I was finally able to draw my eyes to her face, she said, "Yes. I'm right here."

I imagined making a sweater out of her intestines.

I continued to nod at her suggestions and tell her, "I'm just fine," while she asked if I was okay.

I should've realized that, in spite of being a gigantic cunt, the woman wasn't entirely unperceptive, and she finally got tired of my lack of responsiveness and asked me to take off my headphones and see her at her desk.

At the desk, she proceeded to condescend me and spell the job out for me. She then told me that I have to actually take heed of the suggestions that she and the other supervisors give, and I agreed. She asked me what my problem was, and I told her. I hate telemarketers. I didn't say the word evil. I wanted to say evil. I wanted to say, I want to do this job, but I don't want to be evil about it. I didn't say building a one-sided "rapport" is evil. I didn't say I don't want to do it the way you do it. I just said okay.

I went back to my desk and did a very excellent job of not simultaneously crying and throwing up, which is what I wanted to do. I made it through the rest of the day, then I came home, called Spherion, updated and submitted my resume to them, and officially restarted the job hunt.

If I actually manage to make it to 90 days at the call center, I'm going to try to transfer to customer service. I'm not entirely sure I can last that long, though. I still want to throw up.

Other things that make me want to throw up: S

I really think I've lost every ounce of respect I had for her.

I have low tolerance for fickle people (which is why I feel so awful for wanting to change my job again), and S wrote the book on fickleness.

She's got a history of being promiscuous, so the other day she called me to announce she'd realized how bad that was and that she's going to stop having casual sex.

Great, I thought, maybe now she'll settle her ass down a little and make mature decisions because she'll start eliminating those things that really fuck with her life: sex and drugs.

B has a friend who is a genuine nice guy, and he likes S and has been moderately persistent in trying to go out with her, so after she decided this, she set up a date with the guy.

The day before her date, she did something terrible. After doing the terrible thing, she called me and said, "I did something terrible."

What was the terrible thing she did?

Remember that guy I told you made her LSD? The one she used to fuck?

She fucked him again. And she liked it. And she said she was happy she did it.

Then she canceled her date.

I asked B what I'm supposed to do when I lose all respect I had for my best female friend. He shook his head and shrugged.

I should've known. I really should've known that she wouldn't come back here any different, despite what she said.

Now I guess I'll just wait and see how long it takes for her to start treating me like a doormat again.

I still definitely want to throw up.