Someone said they would love to see me working at Tower, the joke being that I would

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never find a place of employment in such a corporate environ. It landed flat, the offhanded comment, since I’m currently working at

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the biggest fucking place I’ve ever spent any real amount of time (save my ‘by my rules’ tenure at the since defunct corporate law office of Broebeck, Phleger & Harrison) and I figured aloud that it couldn’t be that much different. This was greeted with a resounding “hah!” and assurance that, yes, it’s quite different. My employment history was apparantly scarred enough since passing through the hallowed (hollow?) grounds of Epicenter in my wild and wreckless years. This didn’t make is viagra a hormone too much sense to me as I knew two people who worked Epicenter who were paid to work at Tower Records down on Market. They weren’t living in paradise but they couldn’t have been any less fucked-up or misanthropic than me. One thing I knew about Tower was that they would have huge inventory days where everyone had to come in and stay late moving bremo pharmacy product around and counting shit and wishing they were elsewhere watching television. One of my long-time ambitions when at Epicenter was to have a functioning inventory of used product to have more consistant used pricing (and so that the myriad of volunteers felt more comfortable buying used records instead of freaking out and telling me about it later) but the only finished inventory that took place was when we closed the place down and had to tally everything up for liquidation. The records racks went to, I think, Axis Records and Howling Bull which is dead and maybe a couple even ended up at Mission Records, also dead. Amoeba bought the leftover stock and I dropped off Epicenter’s keys (of which there are a million copies) and picked up the deposit from the building’s landlord. There’s an obvious difference between the place where I drank 40oz, smoked cigarettes, blasted The Meatmen to piss off lesbians and counted moths and buttons in the till at the end of the day and the place I walk to four times a week and dutifully work and drink coffee. There’s a lot more money in the tills and I don’t even have to count it. But there’s not as much money as there used to be and so I guess management decided to call a store meeting to discuss matters with whoever answered the call for a couple extra hours on the clock and some free pizza. I just work anyways so there you are. Wasn’t sure what to expect but I was pretty disappointed when I learned from the state elders around me that this wasn’t such the unprecedented event as I’d hoped– they’ve just never bothered to have one while I’ve worked there. Even so I was eager to hear about bleak sales and hard times and cut-backs and maybe some group hugs in the same way it warms my heart when the Dow Jones takes a dive. I don’t have much of an understanding when it comes to business and economics but I know a good time when I see one. It turned out to be a lot of nothing, a flow chart about who you’re supposed to ask for time off west coast university pharmacy and a chat about how no one can do anything about how scummy Haight Street is so stop blaming the junkies and the bums for life’s ailments. Talk on how to improve the cash flow centered on pushing used product which has the profit margin which seems to have been the idea for as long as I’ve been around. Epicenter had little group chats once a month, if only because it was required by law for out not for profit tax status. My ideas were generally outlandish, rude, loud and fueled by the coffee/malt liqour cocktails I used to live on and, as such, were immediately discounted and forgotten. But certainly the lack of stock was a deciding factor in the continued demise of the store, made all the more obvious when, behold, Amoeba moved in and had three copies of every record we should have had with people selling pot outside instead of heroin. We never had pizza but we did sit on the floor. Okay, I didn’t sit on the floor last night but I did pace around close to the pizza boxes and listened intently without making any suggestions, accusations or invitations to violence– at no point did I call anyone a “balding fuck” so vehemently that spit flew across the room. Push used product, be personable, make suggestions. Blah, blah, blah but I got a couple hours time and a half for my attention. The meeting ended and everyone chit chatted finishing their sodas and slices and trickled off in ones and twos and while I stumbled on home thinking about how I shouldn’t have eaten so much it didn’t really seem any different than what they probably do at Tower or probably even Target or, possibly, even places like Broebeck, Phleger & Harrison. My longest running office job was for one of those doomed from the start online money pits called and they had little group meetings too with crackers and brie and beer and once even scotch. Having been there from before they wen’t online to after they started laying off half their staff I had hundreds of opportunities to sit at the big table and feel apart of viagra vs cialis better the team which seemed to revolve mostly around eating and listening to the CEO or CFO talk about something or, for kicks, listening in as their 401k manager broke down the future riches. I was asked, invited and encouraged to sit in. I usually went and smoked while they had their meetings and chuckled about it to myself afterwards when I scooped in on leftovers. They did make me attend my department meetings which were just as useful to me and, I’m sure, just as grateful for my presence as every other meeting I’ve ever attended except if I spilled my cup of noodles all over the place. I’ve been trying to loop this all into some greater truth or revelation but it’s not really working. Maybe if I’d viagra online pharmacy bothered with writing

classes instead of chopping onions and bellpeppers but I didn’t now you’re stuck with it. Meanwhile it’s been a pretty lonely excursion every week and the less and less that gets posted just makes these random little musings all that more noticeable to anyone who might accidentally happen by and God, what are they gonna think? C’mon people, if you can’t make me look good at least make me look less obvious.

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-B …who really ought to think about this before he shows up at the library… Â

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