Work

Existential crap

My life is a bundle of messes all wrapped up in Christmas time gift paper that makes you think something cute and endearing like a tiny kitten, or puppy, or duckling will pop out. Instead you find a haggard mutt, once the runt of his litter, nestled into pieces of trash. Upon closer inspection, you will find the trash is actually discarded sketches and writings.
My past hopes.
My future expectations.

The spit from my soul.

I feel wrecked. Superannuated. Potentially unusable.

Potential. Do I carry any now? Or has it all faded?

I know these things are all in my head but they’re hard to ignore.

They’re easy to trust, to masochistically cherish.

Do I want to be awful? Crazy? Beyond the reach of God?

No. Not really.

Not really at all.

Sometimes I think I am.

I think I put myself there.

But no, not really.

Not really at all.

Today’s post is brought to you by the letter “S”

There’s this kid at my work named Tyler and I think he hates me.

I’m good at my job, but I hate it and I think he’s picked up on that and doesn’t appreciate it. I think he also dislikes that I’m almost always hustling to get out of there when my shift ends.

Most of my co-workers are fine and it’s not the worst job I’m just tired of it and it gets in the way of getting stuff done for the wedding and it’s just kind of a gross job. I come home smelling like campfire smoke, dirty dishwater, and feet. And like all people in food service my back is trying to murder me and may eventually succeed.

Since I’ve been so annoyed by it lately I’ve decided to start changing the notices and stuff at work in order to bring myself some small, absurd, mischievous joy.

MUST BE DONE BY THE END OF YOUR SHIFT
becomes
SMUST BE DONE BY THE END OF YOUR SHIFT

QUALITY INN MAP
becomes
LOW QUALITY INN MAP

Of course I didn’t just stop there. I messed with people’s time cards too.

TYLER
becomes
STYLER

LOGAN
becomes
SLOGAN

VANCE
becomes
SVANCE

Most of them have gotten a good laugh out of it. But Tyler asked me about it today and I think he was really mad. He said he wasn’t, but he was pretty passive aggressive about it.

Oops.

Sorry, Styler.