Open Diary Entries

A year ago, it was the most boring day of my life


I came across an old log today while doing my everyday votes. If you're not familiar with the place, check it out--it's kind of like a user-compiled encyclopedia, but lots of non-factual stuff is noded, it's written by weirdos and geeks like you, and the place has an odd sense of humor (that or they smoke crack).

Anyway, sometimes people write what you call "daylogs," which is the only place on E2 where you can write inconsequential bullshit about your life and not get voted down. (Yes, there's a point and voting system in the damn thing.) A year ago today, I noded an account of the most boring day of my life. It was entitled "The Most Boring Day of My Life." Clever, eh? Well, the node was clever too, so I decided to share it with you, the people.

Here it is, without further ado.

This was the most boring day of my life.

Yes, it's true. I am not normally bored; I thought it had become physically impossible for me to be bored. Since I hadn't been bored in so long, I'd even forgotten what it was like. I could always find something to do, or failing that, something to think about; after all, I'm a writer, and my brain is always spinning with wacky zany nutty fun, right? RIGHT??

Today, the answer is no.

I arrive at work. Find my shift is nine to five (an hour longer than usual, but not highly unusual). Find I must work the register (also not highly unusual, since it's the register chicky's day off, but not my normal or preferred position). Prepare to spend most of the slow Monday morning reading secretly, the other half of the day slightly busy with customers.

Not so.


Complain to managers about disinterest in working register. Pace. Sulk. Acquire book to read on the sly. Read it a bit.

HOUR TWO: 10-11 AM

Friend Mike comes to visit. Friend Mike chats gaily with me for a while, and then makes me ring up a book for him. Which he then gives to me as a gift. Excitement ensues, for it is a book I've been bitching about not being able to afford, and I was secretly annoyed that HE was going to get it and I couldn't afford it. Am reprimanded by two managers to do work and not be paid to stand around talking, at which point I needle them for some direction. Am then laden with many stupid chores, none of which really need doing but are mostly to keep me busy. Fair amount of sulking.

HOUR THREE: 11 AM to 12 noon

Constant clock-watching, expecting it to be later than it is. Ponder break. Do some menial chores, feeling annoyed. Ponder break. Check clock. Clean window of fingerprints. Watch annoying kid put them back on.

HOUR FOUR: 12 noon to 1 PM

Bored. BORED!!! Doodle on discarded receipt. Rearrange pens while reading on the sly. Wait on customers. Complain of cold. Clean up the gardening section anemically. Annoyance building.


At 1 my break arrives. Eat food and read without worrying about being caught. Get annoyed about having to go back at 1:30. Complain loudly of cold. Take store poll of who is cold. Find that they are all hot. Complain more. Steal samples from the café.


Begin to wait on customers in a funny accent to see what will happen. Mutter to self in funny accent. Straighten CDs, ponder people's stupid band names. Ponder riding the broom in the corner. Complain about the cold. Clean window again. Acquire sweater. Consider asking for a line out so I can call another bookstore and bitch to a friend. Continue to wait on customers.


Boredom Headache arrives. Annoyance builds further. Fantasize about my novels. Scrawl down an idea for something in my next book, writing in a made-up language. Explain discount card policy to a woman who thinks I have cheated her. Call the customer service girl and bitch. Complain more about headache, annoyance, boredom. Attempt to look like I am doing something by arranging pens while reading more on the sly.


Boredom pounds through skull. Call the manager and ask who is coming up to take my place so I can count my drawer and leave on time. Bored. BORED! NEVER BEEN THIS BORED! Look at feet. Ponder the fact that sock is sliding down again. Arrange magazines. Think about how dumb Cosmopolitan is. Bitch to self. Get relieved of duty. Count down drawer and bitch loudly about day's boredom to anyone who will listen. Clean up assigned displays and receive star stickers. Bitch more, on my way out, about how horrid the day has been. Skip out the door laughing.

"So how was your day hon?"

"Oh, it was fine."


Fein stelle ich gerade das Gebäude auf Feuer ein Lets stick to English ok? lol, I'm gonna end up saying somthing totally off [Gød]

*LOL* sounds , math class familiar. only 1.5 hours long, with a .5 hour beak (lunch) but i swear , its 5 hours long...i spend my time writing out "HELP ME" in big fancy artistic letters, then sending it across the room to my only friend there, and pretending to be dead when she looks over to raise her e-brows at me...*LOL* [)Wunderlust(]

Sie fingen an, was? [Gød]

Hehe, I can just imagine. :) [Meggie]

Sounds like school... ::glumly thinks of going back after break:: I can relate. Truly. [katqueen]

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