Cliff/Tori: What's Mine is Mine

I'll make this quick because I actually have to go to work soon!

It's kind of a mixed blessing. When Thom's work called me in I still wasn't sure exactly what he did, and when it was explained to me I grew less and less impressed. Thom had described himself as being in the "marketing" business, but what he neglected to mention was in is actually the "tele-marketing business." I felt ill as the manager took me around to a cubicle and showed me a big script for possible conversations I would be having, depending who would answer the phone. I always hated telemarketers, now I just hate myself. It's basically my job to call people up around dinnertime (my official hours are 3-9 PM) and ask them to take surveys. Sometimes people politely decline, sometimes they're very rude about it, and sometimes they just go with it, which always surprises me.

I had a bad feeling about it from the start, I guess because I was on my period.

Hrm. "My period." Realizing I just typed that, as if I owned it. And I guess I do. It belongs to me, it's something I've got to deal with. It's mine. For now, anyway. The body is mine, the boobs and the privates are mine. The clothes are mine, the tight jeans and tops and the underwear... the words the voice speaks, they come from me. Suddenly I'm becoming very aware about the choices I can make, and now that I have a job, I can start doing something and being something, at least for now. It's quite liberating. I'm starting to understand what makes me me, whether I'm being Cliff or Tori.

I mean, obviously, this isn't what I'd like to be doing, but... stuck in an awful situation, I'm starting to find my way, and I'm proud of myself. If I keep working, and just don't screw things up, I could actually end up enjoying this, so long as I get my life back in the end.

Man, you have no idea how glad I am to be rid of the stress of job-hunting. I'll take the boredom of a job I dislike anyday, over that.