Shitty Day

Hello, shitty day.

I had a job interview at 6pm today.

Six in the evening.


I leave my appartment at 4:30, and get on a bus out to the blue line.

I get on the blue line to go to Cumberland.

Great, 30 minutes to get there, and it’s only 10 blocks away.

I get out of the blue line station to see the 5:40 bus I needed leave five minutes early.

I had to wait until the 6 bus.

I got to the interview five minutes late.

Five minutes after six.

Five minutes …

“Maybe you should have put the effort into getting here on time,” the bitch said.

MOTHER OF FUCK. I’m five minutes late, and suddenly, she’s speaking to me as if I’m some fucking slacker. She’s never met me, she’s never seen me before.

But you see, just because I’m five minutes late, I didn’t put any effort into this job interview.

So I walk to the next bus stop to get back into town. I’m way out in the suburbs right now.

Fuck, I hate the suburbs.

I walk to Irving Park, which is about halfway between Belmont and the Cumberland blue line station. I catch the IP bus there.

“Oh, sorry, I’m only going to Central.”

“Whatever, I’ll catch something else there.”

Put the card in, whoops, invalid.
Put the card in, whoops, invalid.
Put the card in, whoops, invalid.

“The thing’s good ’till October, man, just check the back.”

Driver checks back, nods, gives me card.

I get to Central, which is about 1/4 of the way in. Meh. Central bus to Belmont, Belmont bus to home.

Pull up to Central just as Central bus leaves. Next bus, 15 minutes.

Well, bugger.

While another guy and I are waiting, I go into the nearby convenience store and buy a bottle of water. I walk out, guy’s gone. I missed the early Central bus.


I see another IP bus coming. I cross the street, this one’s going all the way to Lake Shore.

Put the card in, whoops, invalid.

Driver looks at card, “As long as the date’s still good, don’t let anyone kick you off.” Nice drivers exist. Hooray!

IP bus to Brown Line station.

Put the card in the till, whoops, invalid.
“Code 13: See attendant”

“The reader says my card’s invalid. It says it’s a code 13. The card is good until October.”

Hold up card.

“Izit deant?”


“Izit deant?”


“Yo card, iz it deant?”

“Dent? Hell no, the thing’s flat.”

Show the flat card.

Attendant rolls eyes, and slowly opens gate to let me through, behaving as if it’s some sort of horrid task to do her job.

I get up the stairs in time to see the brown line train leave. Next train, 15 minutes.

8 pm, I walk into Dennis’s Place for Games, and rip the hell out of any song thrown at me.

In a dress.

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