I came on my own volition.
I am the man that got away.

Work -
Tonight I clocked in at 4:30 PM and it was suddenly Wednesday when I worked 6:45 AM to 6 PM with only an hour lunch break and on my feet the rest. I was trying to relieve Logan in the back who was frying chicken both for our loose case and boxed hot case so he could go to lunch. Instead I got mixed with a redneck who wanted a Philly steak and cheese. I made his sandwich to order only to be confronted with the elderly gentleman behind him. He, to this shit. o, wanted a Philly. I was annoyed. Angry. Granted chicken side cooking sucks At least you’re away from the customers. I can, “pretend”, like I’m cooking chicken in the back but dick around for ten minutes, which actually rarely happens. You learn to smile and accept this shit. Made him his sandwich, didn’t stop to ask the next customer if he needed help. Instead, went straight to the back and told Logan to take his lunch, I was taking over, box up what just came up out the fryer and we’re good.

It was just one of those days. People wonder why I get stoned before work.

I.
Am.
Robot.

Tell.
Me.
What.
Is.
Next.

I’m versatile.
Put me in any situation and I come victorious.
Even on the bad days.

So when I go the hardcore bitch mode of my assistant manager on Wednesday after my eleventh hour there. I got irate.

I know she does a job for two.
Her boss/my boss sucks ass.
But fuck....I’m part time.
If you want to bitch and yell about the shit that the full timers didn’t do…bitch to them.
DON’T MAKE ME DO THEIR FUCKING SHIT THE LAST HOUR I’M THERE!
I’ve been working for this slave camp for three and a half years.
I lost my insurance last year due to me being stupid and the store manager catching on. Which is actually a big blessing. I haven’t missed a day in a year.

But I’ve been there for every shift.
Sleep, no sleep?
Fuck it.
Show up for work.
The computer takes over on schedule and now I don’t qualify for our good insurance.
I have to take the government stuff?
OK.
I’m a democrat.
Lifelong.
BUT FUCK YOU OBAMA!
Don’t tell me what to do.
I’ll go another year without health insurance.
I want my good Blue Cross Blue Shield Back.
Make my job give me the hours back for insurance.

People close to me say I need to see a therapist.
After A.A. and an almost check in at rehab.
Maybe I do need anti-depressants.

This is a rant with no one I know reading this.
Its liberating.

I welcome ProseBox into my life.