Bob, Dismemberment, Sweatpants. You know you want to read this.

What to say about today? Life-changing? Not so much. Very nearly life-ending? That's closer. Holy frikkin' crap today was the longest day of my life. The longest, most suicidal-tendency-inducing, boring-to-the-point-of-tears day of my life. Because lo, today was orientation day for my shiny new job. And that sentence just made me take another swig of my beer. Because honestly, I've been drinking since I got home. At 5 PM. I just don't want to feel anymore.

The day began at 7:45 AM. That is enough to send me screaming over the edge right there, but I was dealing. Plus I got there late....so it's all good. I arrive to a very VERY perky welcome by Julie. The perky HR woman. And by perky, I mean I wanted to drive a nail through her forehead upon arrival. (wow. that sounded violent. i didn't really want to do that. i just wanted her to stop talking. and i figured that would do the trick.) Peeerky Julie. Fine. So, perky Julie keeps introducing us to more and more people that waste our time saying nothing. "Welcome to the organization, don't do drugs, try not to defraud medicare, blah blah blah." I'm pretty sure I would have figured out all of that stuff. (Or at least most of it...Medicare has it coming.) And then she introduces us to Bob.

That's right. Bob. The Corporate Compliance Officer. Or as he prefers to be called "Your Friendly Corporate Compliance Officer." Now, I don't know whether it was the amount of sugar coursing through my bloodstream (there was much chocolate and mountain dew through the course of the morning) or whether the dude was just creepy, but seriously? Dude was creepy. Probably in his 50's. Walks in. Grins at me. And directs his entire speech at me. It's entirely possible that I am an easy target (since I arrived late and was thus stuck right at the front), it's also entirely possible that I smiled at him and made him think that I found him amusing and/or attractive....because I swear to God I am an idiot and I smile at everyone. He could have been holding a switchblade to my throat and I would have smiled at him because such is my pathology. Anyway. I often have speakers make a lot of eye contact with me, because I am an active listener who smiles and nods and gives the illusion of paying attention (key word: illusion) and so I'm used to it. The problem is when the speech is taken straight from the Orwellian classic 1984. Corporate compliance involves a lot of compliance. Which is not my favorite word. I don't like to comply with things. It's just counterintuitive. So when Baron Von Crazy grins, says "Do you mind if I stand next to you?" and proceeds to look me in the eye and say "...And we all want to be compliant, don't we?" I start looking for the emergency exits. Hahaha...exits...I should have been so lucky. Made it through the speech without too much brainwashing, but if my supervisor asks me to make a false claim to the government, don't think I'm not calling Bob. Because that's what he wants me to do.

About halfway through Bob's speech, I realize that I am freezing. I'm not cold. I'm freezing. I'm shivering, my teeth are chattering, and wait, oh yes, I've lost contact with my pinky toe on the left side. Turns out the 4-inch-wide spaceheater that was supposed to be keeping the room toasty caused some sort of short, disruption, fire, explosion, hell I don't know. I just know that if it was plugged in, it stopped working. Which meant it got cold. Extremity-numbingly cold. (Bear in mind, I live in Alabama and snow flurries are enough to incite riots, and battery, bread, and milk shortages.) So my teeth kept me awake through much of the afternoon session.

I was sitting there, in my newly-purchased slacks and button down shirt. And my big long coat. And I was thinking about how cold I was. And how much jeans would have helped me be less cold. Because the stupid orientation packet specified "Business casual attire. No jeans." I went shopping last weekend and spent a bunch of money on clothing because everything I own is part of a set. A set of ____ and jeans. Jeans, jeans, jeans. I heart jeans. And I was completely devastated that I couldn't wear them today. Because honestly? Powerpoint cares not for slacks and button-downs. And I'm looking around the room. And I spot her. My hero and my nemesis. Because she's living something quite close to my dream. Chick is sitting in orientation. In sweatpants. SWEATPANTS PEOPLE. I couldn't wear jeans. But Shonda or Jeanie, or whatever her name is (I lovingly refer to her as "The Chick Who Keeps Asking Questions About Insuring Her Non-Existent Children") can kick it on into orientation wearing sweatpants. I hate her. And wish to emulate her. In jean form.

By lunchtime I'm planning my daring escape. And listening to my iPod. Because I don't want to meet people. I am waaaay too lazy to talk to people in orientation. I would rather just eat my veggie sandwich and channel an OLP concert in my head. After lunch, we moved on to insurance. Well, benefits, blah blah blah. Mainly insurance. And it made me want to go join the military. Like right then. Because my entire life I've had military insurance. Military insurance means that I go to the doctor...and I give them my ID card...and they say, "okay, have a nice day" and I wander off. With money in my pocket. Military insurance means I pick up a prescription, I show them my ID, and they wave me off. Military insurance means no co-pays, no HMO, no PPO, and no hassles. I miss military insurance. Because honestly? I don't want to pick an insurance plan. I don't want to choose a primary care physician, I don't want to pay for health insurance, dental insurance, and prescription drugs separately, and honestly I don't want to pay for them at all. Shocking huh? :-p I know. I am being a bum. But really? I have NO energy or interest in making these decisions today. Or tomorrow. Retirement? I am 22-frikkin'-years-old. I know, the earlier you start the better, but I don't care. I do not want to make decisions about my retirement today. Or tomorrow. I also don't want to discuss my accidental death or dismemberment. DISMEMBERMENT. Although, I will bear in mind that my life insurance pays out double in the case of accidental death. Don't think I'm not going to try to make it look accidental as hell when I die. :)

Which brings me to the end of this long, rambly post. Apparently, my employer pays out a death benefit in the event of my untimely end. A $5,000 check is cut straight from my employer to my beneficiary. The thing is, $5,000 is not that much money. And my parents, anticipating the possibility that I might turn up with the same chronic disease my father has, have already insured the living hell out of my life. So they're not going to need the $5,000 if I die. And I'm planning on only having this job for 1 year. Hopefully HOPEFULLY I will not die in the next year (I am rapping quite determinedly on my wooden desk.) And I can name anyone or any group of people as my beneficiaries for this little death benefit thingie. So, a contest...or even a game show. (And this could just be because my brain is fried and I'm a little bit buzzed, but it seems like a really good idea right now.)

WHO WANTS TO BE A BENEFICIARY UPON MY UNTIMELY DEATH?!?

(I would totally put a Who Wants to Be a Millionaire-esque logo here if I wasn't far too lazy to go to the trouble)

I have decided that if I am going to have an untimely death that doesn't involve me being old-as-hell, it had better be good. I mean, ball-of-flames while scuba-diving....I want my death to be tragic, oh-so-cool, and to have a Ripley's Believe-it-or-not component. So, the person who leaves the coolest death-scenario in the comments section will be named my death beneficiary for the company death benefit (not my life-insurance you greedy monkeys. hahaha.) Because I'm not paying into it and I certainly won't be able to use it.

Okay, Orientation: Day the Second tomorrow :) STAY TUNED!!