The bus? Or the wife? Decisions, decisions

One of the reasons we chose to live (in Westland) where we live is the bus routes. This was a fairly straightforward decision made by the both of us, but the first day on the job Joel took the car in. After wandering around the apartment all day by myself, I realized that if we're near a bus station, Joel should be on the bus! I pled needing to have a car to grocery shop and get to class and so on... but really it was just to beat the feeling of caged whale that would creep up on me all day long. So dear Joel, being the considerate husband he is, agreed to take the bus every morning and walk the rest of the way to work. But about every three days or so... the gentlemanly resolution caves a little and he'll ask me (innocently, usually from the kitchen or while he is int he closet looking for something to wear and I can't see his face) "Are you driving me to work today/tomorrow?" As if this is a regular occurrence. At which point, I think, "we could spend the gas to get him into work, I drive downtown both ways in rush hour, and we pay bus fare to get him home." As you can imagine, it completely defeats the purpose of saving money on the bus. I usually take him. Thus Joel gets to sleep in a half hour, and takes "the wife" to work instead of the dread bus. 

Sometimes, this is not that much of a hardship for me, I just get to class two hours early and have to do something productive instead of sleeping away the morning, which I'm far too apt to do. This is a considerable hardship when I am getting out of bed, but not after I realize how much work I finished once those two hours are up. I have only 12 credits this term, and on Mondays when I leave the house at 9:30am and don't get back till 10:00pm, I wonder if I have over booked myself. But the rest of the week is so relaxed with only two other classes, I wonder if I'll be able to fill the hours with anything productive. 

So what exactly does Joel do? Well, I've been trying to figure that out since he got the job... and I'm still a little confused. But that's ok, because I think Joel is too. (this might take awhile to explain) As far as I can tell, he arrives in the morning to his cubicle on the 12th floor, which is situated one desk away from the window. (For which I would be thankful!) He fires up he two computers (or is it three?), signs into the almighty group chat, and his co-workers and the rest of the company now know he is here and ready for business. For the rest of the day, he answers phone calls and emails from the people on the other side of the wall all the way to Scottsdale, Arizona. Unless of course said callers just walk right to his desk and talk to him. He is part of "the guy" (excuse me...) "THE GUY". Or Quicken Loan's version of "tech support". But don't call it tech support, that's too normal... call it "THE GUY". He gets one of two kinds of questions, the first, which he loves, are the my-computer-went-to-sleep-and-won't-wake-wake-up or I-forgot-my-password-I-made-with-you-yesterday type of questions; or the kind that Joel dreads: the there-is-an-error-labeled-11559900932885763336657-on-my-screen-right-now-and-Bob-millionaire-can't-get-a-mortgage-because-of-it type of questions. Though I doubt Bob would need a mortgage if he was a millionaire, but then again, he should be one if he's applying for such a huge loan! So the banker calls "THE GUY", and Joel answers and has to figure out what error 11559900932885763336657 stands for. 

I love my husband, but I would hate his job. But he seems to like it, so I'll keep cheering him on. Of course, his day is not all that boring, it is broken up by odd Jedi-looking/acting co-workers who were hired for their computer genius and not their wardrobe. How do I know that? Because on day one, Joel went to work in tasteful dress pants, button up, tie and sweater, and someone told him he could wear jeans. The next day, he wore khakis and a sweater, and another person told him he could wear jeans. The next day, he wore jeans and a button up. And so on, until two days ago, I sat down at the breakfast table and looked over -- he was wearing a sweatshirt and old jeans. "Are you allowed to wear that to work?" "yep." He said to his cereal. Thus I conclude that his co-workers were not hired for their fashion sense. They could have been hired for their aim, though... as Joel is regularly hit with whistling Nerf darts. Apparently, Joel doesn't know who is shooting him, as everyone just looks busy when he turns around. If that were me, I would launch a huge game of Cubicle Clue to find out "who done it." But Joel takes it in stride, biding his time and and quietly plotting which Nerf gun to invest in. This along with the scooters, free slushies/popcorn/trail mix/coffee/tea/etc, x-box gaming station, ping pong tables, basketball gym and general atmosphere of Chucky Cheese contributes to an exhausting, but entertaining day for him.  

At some point, I'll fill you in on all the thrilling parts of my own day (laundry, unpacking boxes that I wonder why I packed int he first place, etc), but that will be for another post.