Batch

08-13-2012 -- At a bank somewhere (Costa Mesa?) though I don't know if I am there making a delivery or doing a mystery shop. There's a robbery going on, and people are being shot. I think at first it is a lady doing the shooting, but then things change, and the lady was one of the ones being shot. I am taking pictures with my camera, and I think there is a friend with me, who might be interviewing people or something. There is a hint of writing an article for the Hornet.

Soon I am in an office building, sitting behind a desk. The area reminds me of the TAMS building, but I am not working security. Tell the truth, I have no idea what I am doing, which makes it hard to get too much accomplished. Lots of people around, and piles of stuff. I guess part of the office was closed for a couple of days, and people from other parts were leaving notes about stuff, but they got buried or blew away, so stuff is being missed.

There is a tall, attractive blonde who seems to be the boss, and she is griping about me not getting enough done, and asking me if I will make the mail run, collecting outgoing mail throughout the building. She is also yelling at everybody about finding some of the missing notes. I had my shoes off, so I am trying to put them back on, and in the process I find some papers and stuff on the ground and start looking through them to maybe find some of the notes.

I find a couple of notes I think might be the ones she is looking for (something about a clown?), and have gotten my shoes on, but now I can't find her. Seems she is mad that I haven't already gotten the mail, and has gone to get it herself.

One of the ladies is leaving the restroom, and several others are commenting on how much of a stink she left behind, as they all move into the break room. My friend from earlier calls me over and tells me they caught us on surveillance video at the bank robbery, and may want to know why we were taking pictures and talking to people. I look at the news report, and yes, there we are. I note how a lot of others weren't as sensible as we were, and got much closer to the gunmen.

My friend is pointing to the screen and telling people "We were there. We saw it." They don't believe him until I tell them it is true, and we're going to do a story on it.

Soon I am back at my desk, still trying to find the tall blonde. A couple of Fullerton College graduates have stopped in to drop off applications, and I figure I'll ask about maybe doing this job permanently, since my car is broke down and I can no longer do the driving job. [True, my car lost its tranny a couple days ago, and I now have to look for a new job. Can't courier without a good vehicle.] I also figure I will ask what the job I am supposed to be doing actually is, so I can start to do it. But I can't find her anywhere.

By this point the office area is the main salon at the Adventurer's Club, and as I hear Sheila doing Samantha Sterling upstairs on the Zebra Mezzanine, I realize she is the blonde. She's now in costume and performing, so I know it's going to be a while before I can talk to her. Graham is playing Hathaway and trading one-liners with her.