THE SUBSTANCE IN MY SYSTEM

For the record, I don't appreciate being "asked" to submit a urine sample. This is not to say that I am happy about the background check and the fingerprinting. But who am I to stand in the way of inefficient business practices? We're all better off, I guess, when capitalism isn't too well-oiled, and there's still a real possibility of squealing and stoppage and overhaul. Perhaps we're meant to be flattered by the higher-ups' insistence upon knowing so very much about us as individuals. For the record, I have not felt flattered on company time as of even date. We aren't faceless employee numbers to this corporation, we are full-frontal headshots and our mothers' maiden names. We are previous addresses, and prints, and piss. It's the pee I just can't get over. I was keeping my attitude to myself while I was permitted to do the same with my bodily fluids. Of course this is one way to weed out trouble. Do I really want to be an attitude problem? For the record: more than anything. But it doesn't come easily to me. If the corporation only wants to know whether I'm a good employee, just, you know, notice me. Either that or develop a test that can accurately measure how much I'm going to cost in personal calls and purloined office supplies. For the record: there's no way to know until it happens. Maybe if they threw in a pregnancy test. And that's how the liquid lie detector knows I am indeed a heterosexual, non-virgin and then some female of reproductive age, though (for the record) I was interested to read the TIME (or possibly Newsweek) cover story years ago, which basically said, Start seeing yourself as more or less bisexual. This makes sense to me, intellectually, but erotically I have no reason to consider myself bisexual as of even date. There are currently two forms of birth control (condoms and spermicide in suppository form) in the top drawer of my nightstand. I'm not always so prepared—hence the pregnancy testing. I used to be on the pill, but that was when I worked for a company with a reasonably enlightened health plan. For the record, I probably would've switched methods in any case because of vague but mobilizing concerns about the long-term hormonal ramifications of oral contraception. Since genealogy is the mother and father of all background checks, I'd better mention that I have a Czech background. To my people, "Bohemian" is an exclusively geographical term. That's when they don't just go for the quaint ethnic slur "Bohunk." I admit it's possible this word is no longer offensive to anyone. It does have the ring of something that could catch on as a compliment. Hey, check out that hottie, he is such a bohunk. Drugs? I don't even like beer. That's why I stick to wine. And hard cider. And clear malt beverages. And champagne, cocktails, liqueurs, sherry, schnapps, rum, vodka and gin. What? We've established that I never actually turn out to be pregnant. For the record, I would like to strike that last remark, which came out as paternalistic toward those who are ever pregnant rather than as remotely bohemian, from the record. But of course it doesn't work that way. What I've passed is the past, so I'll just keep going. My supervisor pointed out that the company is paying for all of the investigations. Perhaps those who die in the chair are not held responsible for the electric bills. This can't be considered a bonus or a stroke of good fortune. I've never even smoked pot. No one has ever offered me any. I'm no bohemian. As for brownies, I worry about how the special ingredient would affect the taste of the chocolate. I would be very interested to find out. In certain circumstances, at no cost to myself. Isn't it obvious that drug testing is unnecessary for someone like me? My budget doesn't allow for drugs. My budget doesn't allow for not getting drug tested. My Reason for Leaving: My shy bladder made the office unsafe. And there's always that point in the interview when they ask: "And do you have any questions?" I know it makes a good impression to have some ready, but only if one of them is not "Are you going to make me take a drug test?" I've never done a real drug in my life. I think the pristine condition of my organs is reward enough. Is it too late to respond appropriately, with the dignity of simple disbelief? You want me to what? One rational person to another. But the best I've managed is a certain whiny reluctance. Why am I making it so easy for my supervisor to sound like the reasonable one? "It's company policy," she repeats. "It's nothing personal." Yeah, well, I could have policies, too. I have this crazy idea that she should admire me. I should admire me. Even if I do leak self-respect. The best—or do I mean worst—they could find would be a false positive. But someday—soon—I'm going to establish the habit of doing the real thing. And for the record, what I'll be shooting for is heroin—
with
one
last
e
.

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