[Author’s note 2017: these posts are from a series of loose leaf pages I found this afternoon. I didn’t remember I had them in a box. They cover December 14 to December 31, 1981. All are handwritten, which plods along compared to my typing speed, so you get slow passages and metaphors when my scribbling couldn’t keep up with my brain.]
No doubt this Rack job is not the job for me. They’ve got a lot of slack time in an awkward way, and the atmosphere is far too reminiscent of a factory. However, it is excellent and necessary experience. There is, as ever, one jerk on every crew, the ‘company boy who worked his way thru the ranks’. I’m not criticizing his work, but I find his style abrasive. If someone cracks a good one in the coffee room he’s the type [that say], “No need to get too frisky just cause there’s 1 minute and 38 seconds left in your break.” Hmmm.
And the girl Cindy—sharp as a marble. My exclamations the company could see employable qualities in the bother me and her. (sic) If she has her required twelfth grade I’m certain it’s the result of a mix-up in the exam marks. Serial.
I like to go to the Boot for lunch. Lots of scenery. I was optimistic, tho, I stand corrected and disappointed at once. There are no more nice-looking girls there than anywhere else by proportion.
I say, tho—a man knows nothing of sex until he’s had more than 200 partners, a woman, less than 20. That may seem odd cropping up here, but I heard some Italian claims to be Don Juan II because he’s had a ‘record’ 260 women.
[Author’s note 2017: how’s that for a dated and sexist passage? I recall that day, let me explain a couple of the items. The rack is where the phone company used to run wiring in their central offices to connect phones. It is now all computerized. Cindy was, I think, the office filing clerk. The Boot is the company headquarters, because the building shape resembles a shoe. I’m referring to the cafeteria, where you can see the 800 women who work there. I was in the Rack because I was a trainee, but I was company staff and could dine in the executive cafeteria. The crew used to rib me that it was a fashion show, and I never convinced them I rarely saw so many ordinary-looking women.
I remember that day because of the Don Juan brag-thing going around. I was the only one unimpressed, since it is well known most of his “conquests” were hired help. I’m not saying how many women I’d had by then, but shall we say since I never paid for it, the equivalency is at least 20 to 1. That is, compared to me, he maybe had 260 / 20 = 13 women, and for me, that was a bad semester. Sigh, that is the ONLY thing I miss about growing old is the nice women.
As you see, I was aware of the lack of decent older women even back then.]
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