So How Did That NaNoWriMo Thing Work Out For You?

Below is my 3 pages that I had done on the second day of November.  Life caught up to me and when I hadn't written anything else by the 10th, I gave up.  Life hasn't really slacked up since then either.  Always another fire, always another fire.  Enjoy my unedited first 3 pages!

Up at 5:30, on the road at 6:00. Get to work by 7:00 and to bed by 11:00. Maybe watch some TV that night. Go to sleep wondering what the hell you did today. Repeat.

Why don’t they tell you about this in high school or college? Work hard, make good grades, go to college, make better grades, and get a boring life. Why did I work so hard making the grades that enables me to work so hard for the rest of my life? Where in the syllabus of certain classes did it say, “for entry level positions only?” Where were the classes for people wanting to be executives and presidents? I worked so hard to choose my own life; how did I choose one that sucked.

Yeah, I worked hard in school. I sacrificed all the good times and parties, because I was going to make it. I was going to be the first in my family to graduate college and the first to make it out of poverty. Here I am. I made it, and it sucks. It is the same game with better toys. The same stress over paying the rent only the apartment is bigger and more expensive. It is the same slaving at a nine to five only the hours actually are more like seven to five. They don’t tell you that either.

Posted by Sam 9:15.

Sam sits back and looks around. It wouldn't do to be caught slacking off on the clock. He thought they had blocked his blogging site last week, but today it is working again all of a sudden. It wasn't the site; it would work fine from home. He wasn't even sure why he did it anymore. There were never any comments and no one seemed to be reading it. It didn't matter, he used it as a diary anyway. The anonymity of the web was the only way that Sam would ever let anyone else see his writing. Even in college, his grades had suffered due to him not letting someone proofread his essays.

He had gone to Kansas State and majored in English. It had started out as art, but he had a talent for literature. His basic studies English teachers had urged him and Sam saw it as the path of least resistance, where resistance was failing out of school.. Looking back it was a good decision to change. Writers are only ever unpublished, but artist are starving. His English degree had prepared him well for his succession of retail positions and eventually his working for the temp agency. The temp agency had landed him this desk jockey job and it paid better than anything else he could find. Yep, like the song says, “future's so bright, gotta wear shades.”

Sam looks down at the right corner of his screen. 9:30. He has been staring at his screen for fifteen minutes, not doing a thing. A good a time as any for a break, so he stands up and walks out of his cubicle towards the bathroom. People look up from there own computers as he passes by their doorways. He nods at a few of them, but ignores most. He doesn't actually plan on going to the bathroom but he could use a drink of water and prying eyes pry less when you are heading in that direction.

After getting a nice long drink of super chilled, make your teeth hurt, water, Sam heads over to Leslie's cube. He doesn't stand a chance. Five foot eight, rich brown hair and caramel complexion, Leslie is smokin'! He is just a temp, she makes more money, she is smarter, and a hundred other reasons of why he could not get her danced through his head as he approached.

“Did you catch Lost last night, Leslie?”

“Nah, I was out. Tivo got it though.” She sat back, happy for the interruption.

“Was it good or did it ask more questions than it answered again.”

Sam felt that he was reaching the time to leave point. “It was okay, I guess. I'll let you get back to work.” He knew that the comment about going out was put there to let him know that she had a life and possibly a boyfriend. She didn't need him unless she wanted to know a good book to read or what happened on TV the night before. She was way out of his league.

Sam hadn't had a girlfriend in quite a while. He was only a temp and he had student loans on top of his rent and car payment. Even if he had the time he wouldn't be able to afford a girlfriend. The girls at work were untouchable. He was the only temp and they all made more money than him. Add to that the policy on fraternization. Not to mention that just asking a girl out could be considered sexual harassment these days. The lack of funs contributed greatly to his lack of a social life. Well that and World of Warcraft, but even if he hung out with his friends more, it would be fruitless. Spending more time around a bunch of guys without girlfriends isn't, exactly, going to help him get one. Sam didn't care for the club scene and neither did most of his friends. There was his older brother though.

Gregory Adam Lester and, at twenty-seven, was three years older than his little brother Sam. He didn't go to college, did go to clubs, and had a girlfriend. He was the antithesis of his younger sibling. He worked construction and made a better living than his college educated brother. He had been dating Sarah for the past two years and it looked like they would be getting married sometime soon. Greg seemed to have it all after making all the wrong choices.

There was a little bit of sibling rivalry between the two of them. Three years isn't much of an age difference and they had to compete for the same group of friends growing up. Greg had always been a little shorter and Sam a little bigger, so size made their fights a lot more even. Greg was still had size and and experience over Sam, so he tended to win most of the fights. Greg was also naturally smarter. He didn't do as well as Sam in school but Greg didn't seem to try at all. Greg was the oldest so he was always praised as the first to do something. Sam couldn't help that he was younger.

Sam thought about calling his brother as he walked the maze back to his cube. Unlocking his computer he saw that he had a new message. It was from the boss. “Come see me when you get the chance,” was all that it said. Sam's heart leaped into his throat as he considered what it was about. His first thought was about his blog. The tech guys had set him up by allowing him to gain access to it again, just so they could catch him goofing off when he was supposed to be working. The had done the same thing to his buddy Milton with flash games. They had even captured a screen image of the game he was playing.

Sam relocked his computer and stood up and straightened out his clothes. He started rehearsing his defense on the way to his bosses cube. Stepping up to the entrance, Sam saw that his boss, Gary, was in the middle of an email and tried to casually wait around next to the wall. Finally Gary finished his message and turned to face Sam.

“I contacted the temp agency today,” he said.

“About what,” Sam replied with the slightest crackle in his voice.

“You, obviously. Your the only temp we have.”

“What did they say?”

“They said yes.”

“Hold on, I think we are on different pages here. They said yes to what.”

“We are bringing you on full time here. What did you think I was talking about?”

“I don't know.”

“Well, congratulations. If you want the job that is.”

“Yeah, sure I want it,” Sam said with almost authentic excitement.

“Welcome to the team.”

With that Gary turned around and opened another email. This was obviously the sign to go.

“One more thing. You need to see Sandra to fill out some paperwork and stuff.”

Great, an extended break. Sam has had his job for less than two minutes and he is already relieved to get a break. Sam smiled and chuckled to himself. Wait until he told his brother.

Greg was happy for Sam and invited him out for dinner and few bears to celebrate. Having Greg invite you out was nothing special though. Sam could have told him that a girl he didn't know at work was pregnant and Greg would have given him the same offer.

The mood was different that night when Greg picked him up. More subdued. Greg wasn't really talking much and was really knocking back the beers. Greg ordered his fourth as the waitress laid down their steaks. When the waitress brought it out, Greg proposed a toasts.

“To my little brother, for finally entering the rat race.” His voice starting to have the slightest edge of a slur. “May you find happiness in doing the same thing day after day after day.”

At first Sam thought that Greg was joking, but he never saw him crack a smile. Greg just sat there. . . defeated.

As Sam ate, he got madder and madder. Finally, half way through, he just couldn't take it anymore. “I'm outta here,” he states as he throws his silverware on his plate. Sam doesn't look back. If he would have, he would have seen Greg call the waitress over and order another beer. Never once showing the least concern for his leaving brother.

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