Okay. I’ve got a couple days to catch up on, and I’ve done a surprising amount.

On Thursday, I had absolutely no food related joy. However, I did head over to the offices of the Auckland Theatre Company, and spent a couple hours doing some grunt work. I made address labels, I filed stuff, I shifted files around. It was highly, highly boring.

Also, ATC is sort of stuck in the Stone Age when it comes to computerizing their information. I realize many people older than I have little to zero sympathy for the trials and tribulations associated with files that are still in paper format, but nonetheless: highly impractical. I suppose that at least they never have to worry that their system is down, unless somebody shoves over the filing cabinets and scatters everything across the floor.

I didn’t get paid, but I did get free tickets to End Of The Rainbow. Not precisely a musical, but a play with songs, it describes the end of Judy Garland’s life. Which, apparently, was complete shit.

I would probably, had I been prompted, have been able to tell you that Garland was a pill popping alcoholic. What I did not know, was that her problems with addiction began when she was filming The Wizard of Oz, and unlike the vapid stars of today, they were actually not her fault. At least, not completely. She didn’t start abusing drugs because she was bored, or overrich. Instead, the studio possessed a “doctor” of sorts, who prescribed uppers to keep her perky through filming and downers to help her sleep at night, and every authority figure ever made sure she took them.

It was, needless to say, a rather depressing show, which I watched on Saturday.

Backtracking to Friday, I spent that day shadowing one of the other sales people. I earned no money, because he did all the work, but I did get to hear the same spiel approximately 90 times.

On Sunday, which was beautiful and sunny and warm, I intended to go to Mission Bay – a bit to the East of the city, though still firmly within the Greater Auckland boundaries, it’s got shopping and restaurants and beaches. I got slightly delayed, however, when I got to the center of Auckland and discovered that – a full month in advance – Sunday was the day of the Santa Parade. I stuck around for much of the parade, but it was hot and crowded, and not actually that great a show. I got off to Mission Bay eventually, where I sunned on the beach and read a book, and indulged in some truly delicious Movenpick ice cream. It’s basically Haagen Daas, complete with vaguely Swedish-y sounding name, but the price of a single scoop wasn’t terribly extravagant, and turned out to be surprisingly large.

It was incredibly windy, on the beach. I tend to forget how not-sheltered some beaches are, and thus suffered from a great deal of sand-in-the-face-and-ears-and-hair. I was there until about 7:30, at which point I had to put my jeans and sweater back on because the wind was getting quite chilly.

Today, I went to work.

I don’t, actually, feel guilty at all about selling this card. I always felt vaguely dirty trying to force overpriced wrapping paper, or gummy bears in stupid tins, or even Girl Scout cookies upon my neighbors. But for people who are going to the theatre anyway, the cards are a bargain, and if they don’t go, we don’t even bother giving them the pitch.

I’m not entirely sure, nonetheless, that I’ll keep at it. It supposedly only goes from 11am to 8pm, but I got home at 10pm tonight. Part of that, to be sure, was that the stupid guy driving actually ran out of gas on the way home. (Many of them are quite young, 19ish, and some of them are not always the brightest bulbs.) Not all of it, however, was the fault of spending 20 or so minutes waiting by the side of the road. Part, of course, is that everybody wants to make all the sales they can, so they tend to meet up at the rendevous points just a bit late, and then just a bit later still, to hit a last couple houses. I can’t really blame them – when you’re out there, you tend to forget that it’s going to take you a good 30 minutes to drive home, and you’ll have to sort out your money at the office, and you think “Oh, it’s only 8pm! I can take another 10 minutes!” but then you’re in the car, and you look at your watch and realize it’s 9pm already, and you’ve got another 10 minutes in the car, and at least 10 minutes in the office, and then you still have to get home.

Fortunately, even walking, the office is not far from where I’m living.

I didn’t have to worry about cooking tonight, either – I had some left over chicken vindaloo from a takeout curry shop. I asked for it Hot, and when they asked for qualification – Indian hot or New Zealand hot – I asked for Indian Hot. I am now dead, but I died happy.

Whether my insides agree tomorrow morning is a completely separate matter of no importance right now.