Tall, Dark, and Mysterious


Ladies and gentlemen, we have employment.

File under: Meta-Meta, Know Thyself. Posted by Moebius Stripper at 3:32 pm.

I’ve been keeping most of you in the dark about this one: this development has actually been in the making for around two months, which I believe is longer than a season of The Apprentice takes to film. It’s also longer than it takes for the President of the United States of America to confirm a Supreme Court justice. I could have posted at length about each of the n interviews involved in this process, but that would have elicited comments of support, and I don’t think I could have handled that. Nothing like hundreds of folks becoming emotionally invested in my employment to increase the pressure on me to perform.

The short story is this: in a rather sorry job market, I managed to land a position 1) in education, 2) that provides me with an expense account, and 3) that doesn’t involve teaching precalculus to eighteen-year-olds who don’t know how to add fractions. Also: travel! And (some approximation of) job security! (Read: they can fire me at any time, as opposed to them automatically letting me go after less than a year, like all of my previous jobs.) It’s like Christmas came early this year, and Santa didn’t skip over the Jews’ homes like he usually does!

I anticipate, by the way, that this job will be a lot less stressful than last year’s. This is good news and bad news. Good news because I’ve grown accustomed to that feeling of not wanting to strangle anyone; bad news because we all know that great artists must suffer for their work, so expect to witness this blog’s rapid descent into sitcom-quality pap. Next up on Tall, Dark, and Mysterious: Moebius Stripper doesn’t want to miss the once-in-a-lifetime chance to see pop idol Trevor Hartthrobb in concert, so she sends her absent-minded identical twin sister to cover for her on an important business trip. Hilarity ensues!

Of course, morbid curiosity (and dedication to my readers) might lead me to accept a standing request to tutor the friend of my now ex-client. By his own account, this prospective student “isn’t as good at math” as his pal. What the hell could that possibly mean, I wonder? That when he goes into the kitchen to get a glass of water for me and another for himself, he’s not sure how many glasses of water he needs to bring back in all? I invite those of my readers with more experience and/or more creativity than I to speculate (and take bets) in the comments. I swear, every time I think I’ve hit rock bottom in terms of mathematical ineptitude, I remember that I’m teaching the work of the folks who discovered negative numbers.

More about the job later. Or not, depending on what that non-disclosure agreement says.