Chronically Ironic

·I Was A Teenage Liar.

I stayed employed with 7-11 for exactly a week and a day. The first week was training, and that was a breeze. But I had agreed to take the overnight shift. It was then that I discovered my fear of weirdos and mopping. It wasn’t that it was just so very horrible, but that it seemed so very long. It was the most time I had ever spent, or had ever wanted to spend, in a convenience store. After that first night, I had to quit.

Could I just say to my manager, hey, this was really not for me, sorry I wasted your time, I feel really bad, blah etc blah? No. That would be too…honest. Instead, I waited until the afternoon of the next day, called the 1-800 7-11 hotline (not even the STORE, mind you – the national hotline,) and told this little gem:

“Hi, you have a new employee at store #45 in Bedford, Texas…her name is Noël…right…Well, this is her mother, and I wanted to let someone know that she broke her leg in a car accident last night on the way home and she is not going to be able to come back to work. I didn’t have any other number to call…right, thank you.”

Okay. What the fuck. Was that really entirely necessary? And it wasn’t like I was 16 and it was my first job. Oh no. I had already had plenty of jobs by this time. Just no stomach for awkward confrontation. I was miserably ashamed. But then, it really came as no surprise, as the Lying Tree had started back when I was even younger.

We all tell little lies as kids – did you brush your teeth? Sure. Did you drink out of this vodka bottle and replace it with water? Fuck no I did not. Still, a friend reminded me the other day of probably what stands out as the Most Elaborate Lie I personally have ever told…and all at the incredibly young age of 13. Oh, naivety. Those were the days.

I had a friend named Janet, who I had known since I was 9. My family had to move away when I was about that age, but we remained constant pen pals. We would send Barbie clothes and sometimes laundry detergent (no idea…some 9 year old’s idea of a joke) in envelopes to each other, along with tales of our little lives. By the time I was 13 or 14, we had moved to Arizona and Janet was still in Texas, but we kept on writing faithfully. I had good news, and a little sad news for Janet in this particular Letter of Lies. It went a little like this:

“I met a guy about three months ago, his name is Kirk. He has a CAMARO!!! Isn’t that cool? He has been taking me for rides and we have gone about 60 or 70 on the freeway

(I must break here, as obviously in my retarded childlike mind, obviously “60 or 70” was near-death speed for me at 14. Should have known THEN what a shitty driver I would be.)

“…anyway, I really love him and he is a babe and ¾!!! But something bad happened last night and I am miserable…Kirk got in a car accident and he died…I will miss him so much! Best Friends Forever, Noël. “

Did Kirk really have to die in vain? No, ladies and gentlemen. That is why I revive him in this story to you. That Camaro, by the way, was a deep midnight blue. It is a tragedy that will live on in Make-Believe Land forever. God rest your soul, you fine, fine guy, Kirk …I really loved you.

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