Pathetic
The waiting for the call is killing me.
Wasting time becomes a priority. Wanting to forget the promise of the phone ringing becomes an obsession. My mind and body must consume itself with some other kinds of activities. Yet, there are only so many things I can read, places I can clean, people I can talk to (not on the phone, because, you know), and things I can eat.
When all is said and done, my mind goes back to the call. The phone may not be anywhere near me, but as far as I'm concerned, it's always within listening distance.
You start to think they're not going to call. But, they have to. They said they would. As each minute passes, a little bit of me dies. Actually, a part of me sickens. My head throbs, my insides twist, and I feel woozy. It's like nausea.
Come on! It's a phone, not a nuclear reactor! You don't need to be Stephen Hawking to know how to dial a series of numbers. Even a monkey can dial a series of numbers! Just pick up the receiver, and...
Breathe. Calm down. Reset.
Strangely enough, the meeting went smoothly. Two people, one purpose. I wanted what he was offering. I wanted it bad. He may not have gotten the hint considering I was relapsing from a head and chest cold. Sometimes signals can get a little blurred, like my vision (damn that head cold).
What did he want me to do? Jump on top of the table and show what I could do for him? Oh yeah. You'd like that, wouldn't you?
So, why won't you fucking call me? You said you would. You know my number. I even called you back and left a (friendly) message to say that I was still interested (as one of several final acts of desperation). Why are you doing this? To tease me, to prove you have the power? If so, than you're pathetic.
Call me.
Wasting time becomes a priority. Wanting to forget the promise of the phone ringing becomes an obsession. My mind and body must consume itself with some other kinds of activities. Yet, there are only so many things I can read, places I can clean, people I can talk to (not on the phone, because, you know), and things I can eat.
When all is said and done, my mind goes back to the call. The phone may not be anywhere near me, but as far as I'm concerned, it's always within listening distance.
You start to think they're not going to call. But, they have to. They said they would. As each minute passes, a little bit of me dies. Actually, a part of me sickens. My head throbs, my insides twist, and I feel woozy. It's like nausea.
Come on! It's a phone, not a nuclear reactor! You don't need to be Stephen Hawking to know how to dial a series of numbers. Even a monkey can dial a series of numbers! Just pick up the receiver, and...
Breathe. Calm down. Reset.
Strangely enough, the meeting went smoothly. Two people, one purpose. I wanted what he was offering. I wanted it bad. He may not have gotten the hint considering I was relapsing from a head and chest cold. Sometimes signals can get a little blurred, like my vision (damn that head cold).
What did he want me to do? Jump on top of the table and show what I could do for him? Oh yeah. You'd like that, wouldn't you?
So, why won't you fucking call me? You said you would. You know my number. I even called you back and left a (friendly) message to say that I was still interested (as one of several final acts of desperation). Why are you doing this? To tease me, to prove you have the power? If so, than you're pathetic.
Call me.
Authored by S at 12:00 am
3 Comments:
Lemme guess.... waiting for an interviewer to call you back? I'm in the saaaame boat. *sucks*
You boys hang in there! I know it's a bitch, trying to ignore the fact that the phone isn't ringing, but it will happen. You were looking for a job before you found your last one. The next one will be much better! I'm sure that sounds shallow at the moment, but the RIGHT job is out there, waiting for you to cross paths.
Ouch! Pathetic is such a terminating word. I used "despicable" in a similar situation. It terminated everything--to my chagrin. I'd love to have him back. I am the one who became patrhetic.
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