unemployedclaquer

It seems a team of outraged escaped zoo animals shat everywhere right before the ice storm a month ago.

I moved into a new apartment. It's furnished, clean, chill. Also I break out in hives when I lay in bed with the fresh bedding provided to me. Currently washing a blanket but I've just ruled that one out as a cause. I'm out of detergent for washing the remaining sheets and snowed in. I think I'll sleep in this chair :)

TL;DR job app asked me for the verification code proving I completed the questionnaire "in order to proceed". I completed it with a fake SSN and the verification code was 1234.

Try putting in 1234 if you encounter this.

This -- "Work Opportunity Tax Credit Questionnaire" -- came up when applying through one of the big job search sites in the U.S. Turned out this was posted by a corporate staffing agency. Not the biggest one.

The Questionnaire asks for PII including social security number, name and address.

You are not required to do this, despite their absurd web form that states "optional field is required" or some shit. In my case, they wouldn't get any tax credits anyways

i was traveling for work and they let me take some time off and paid for a rental car. i waited all day in the seedy rental car office and they gave me this tiny one-seat race car.

I tried to leave but couldn't get the car into gear so they gave me this ugly, monstrous motorcycle. Twenty feet long, leaking fluids and very wide tires. It doesn't respond to steering or manual controls and just goes where it wants.

The bike takes me into the car rental place and down several flights of stairs. I'm riding through the hallway of a deep underground movie theater and I don't want to see a movie. I want to get on the highway and go home for a break. I finally find an elevator and I just ride over some people to get in and push buttons to go up.

i ride to the top of a parking garage and find a place to get fuel on the top level. I lose the fuel cap and gasoline is spraying everywhere. the guy from the car rental place is now off duty, here on his way home, and laughing at me.

the bike smells bad. i can't "smell in dreams", but I just know that it's foul.

i find the fuel cap and try to leave but the parking garage is like a Borg cube/ferry in a river traveling somewhere and I can't control the bike. I ride off the edge and my stomach flips as I'm falling but I don't land in water, I land on a walkway over the water.

the walkway leads me to a narrow airport concourse.

and it just went like that, always falling like a hundred feet to a light rail track, riding that into an outdoor weed festival and asking for directions to get out of Tennessee, only to just constantly wind up somewhere else inappropriate for this ridiculous motorcycle

background: staying in a roadside motel in the US. Man and Woman in the next room are screaming at each other. 1:30 in the morning. Not my problem.

But I did get voyeuristic and plant my ear on the wall. Most I could comprehend was "your daughter, but what about MY daughter?" from the woman. That's what I thought I heard.

I was like, if I am certain I can tell that someone is beating on someone, and trying to kill them, or you know just violence is happening, then I'll call 911. but I was far from certain. all i could discern was crying and screaming.

Hour later, someone is pounding on my door. is it someone in distress? I am in the least accessible and least desirable room in the place. It's probably one of those two neighbors, but which one?

Anyways, I'm in the US, so I have one or more guns, but I don't keep them loaded or accessible. by the time I had something ready, I think the neighbors were about to pass out. they currently are quiet after hours of screaming.

So I'm not a fan of cops, but not entirely against them. Situations in which I did call the cops:

-Neighbors were screaming at each other, 3 a.m.; their 6-year-old girl was out in the street crying.

-I heard broken glass and looked out the window, and saw a pair of big man's boots going into what I thought was a single woman's apartment.