the feeling is mutual
The day began with a spasm as i awoke to the sight of a perfectly still and quiet digital clock on the table staring back at me with the look of a neglected child;
i had overslept.
One chill of a shower.
One swig of a diet coke to get the pills down,
and a one car race to the place i chain myself to for money, (yes i pole-dance at a strip club)
i still made it there with time to spare.
retail management at christmas: could there be a better place to be?
how about...in a trance, on fire, in the town square like a rebel monk?
at least people noticed him.
but 20 years of this? and i rush to get there. i speed to get there on time!!
oh despicable job, how i loathe thee, let me count the ways:
on the first day of this christmas, my patrons gave to me, toilets over-flowing and a 3 hundred dollar grab and run.
on the second day of christmas, i fucking quit, i'm not doing this again. how can i be doing this again?
every year i plan to leave and every year i don't, my friends accuse me i'm in love with it apparently.
i could go on but you've heard it all before because i've said it all before so i'll just get the the end of my day when i just couldn't take any more whining and bitching and yelling and fighting. my mind ached with desperation to find the cause of all this anger and pain, why can't i just quit?
as i left the store, my boss followed me outside and asked something along the lines of "are you okay? you seem annoyed."
my pace was slow but determined as i walked towards my car and i didn't even look at him when i responded. i said, "i'm going to my father's house and when i get there, kick him square in the balls for fucking my mother."
merry christmas, bitches.
i had overslept.
One chill of a shower.
One swig of a diet coke to get the pills down,
and a one car race to the place i chain myself to for money, (yes i pole-dance at a strip club)
i still made it there with time to spare.
retail management at christmas: could there be a better place to be?
how about...in a trance, on fire, in the town square like a rebel monk?
at least people noticed him.
but 20 years of this? and i rush to get there. i speed to get there on time!!
oh despicable job, how i loathe thee, let me count the ways:
on the first day of this christmas, my patrons gave to me, toilets over-flowing and a 3 hundred dollar grab and run.
on the second day of christmas, i fucking quit, i'm not doing this again. how can i be doing this again?
every year i plan to leave and every year i don't, my friends accuse me i'm in love with it apparently.
i could go on but you've heard it all before because i've said it all before so i'll just get the the end of my day when i just couldn't take any more whining and bitching and yelling and fighting. my mind ached with desperation to find the cause of all this anger and pain, why can't i just quit?
as i left the store, my boss followed me outside and asked something along the lines of "are you okay? you seem annoyed."
my pace was slow but determined as i walked towards my car and i didn't even look at him when i responded. i said, "i'm going to my father's house and when i get there, kick him square in the balls for fucking my mother."
merry christmas, bitches.
posted by Robbb at 7:16 PM
3 Comments:
Lovely stuff sir, you write the best material about the job.
Or as your dad would call it, your "yob".
I love it when you talk bitter to me.
i understand your dilemna.
let's trade yobs for awhile.
i need some new towels.
btw.. i lub you and miss you.
awww.new years is just around the corner, perhaps we shall see each other then and you can lub me in person which is always better i'm told. good to hear from you darlin'
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