Have I Been Unwittingly Ingesting Marijuana? Part 1

Update: You can now read Part 2.

I’ve got a new job. Basically, I’ll be doing some stuff that some people are willing to give me money to do. It’s a good gig if you can get it.

Besides the qualifications necessary for the specific work, and the relatively ordinary expectation that I am able to lift at least 50 pounds, there is one more key qualification for the task at hand: That I be drug-free.

I was told that within 24 hours of signing my name to accept the position, I’d have to make my way to Robinsdale to pee in a cup. (NB: That’s my wording, not that of my new employer.) The whole 24-hours thing is so that I don’t have time to get my possibly-very-recent bong hit out of my system before testing.

But it’s not like I didn’t know the test was required. If I remember correctly, on the application I filled out several days before, I checked a box saying, “Sure, no problem, you can test my micturition for illegal drugs” (Again, my wording.)  If I had any habits that needed quitting in order to pass, I would’ve taken a break then.

I guess my point is that it’s not so much that being drug-free is a requirement, so much as being drug-free for the last day. But I would like to point out—especially if my new boss is reading this—that I’m set on both counts: I have neither done drugs in the last day, nor in the last, say, decade, if I may round up a bit.

The strange thing, though, and the crux of this little yarn is that my freeness from illegal substances didn’t keep me from being nervous about my drug test. As I drove home after accepting the job, I rehearsed my last 24 hours to ensure that, indeed, I had not smoked any weed.

Nope, I haven’t. (For some reason, other equally unacceptable substances did not concern me.)

Next I rehearsed the same span of time again, but this time focusing on the things I had consumed. Had I accidentally ingested any cannabinoids, or whatever they’ll be looking for inside my plastic cup?

Nope, I don’t believe I have.

However, my concern remained. Perhaps I was being irrational, but still…

I voiced my troubles to my wife over breakfast the next morning. I told her that it had seriously crossed my mind whether or not my generic, bite-size, lightly frosted, shredded wheats were gonna screw with my test.

“They do look kinda hempy,” she noted.

Thanks, Molly. Very helpful.

But then we had a good laugh at her mom, who once called the cops, cuz she thought her son had bricks of marijuana stashed behind the garage. At least 2 things about this are funny in hindsight:

  1. She called the authorities about her (generally pretty good) kid instead of talking to him.
  2. Turns out the “weed” was actually several fire-starter logs.

Where would we be without family, right?

*               *               *

I’ll finish this little ditty next time, k? Maybe…It sorta depends on how things shake out.

Update: Everything went fine. Here’s part 2.