Bitch Better Have My Money

I really try not to be a petty person.  Life is too short to hold onto grudges over insignificant things.

But I am truly bothered by a situation with one of my coworkers.  Last week she comes to me and says, "Hey Lucas?  Do you have a dollar?"  I wanted to say, "Why, yes.  Yes I do.  Do you?"  ya know, cause I hate it when people try to get in my pockets.  Well she continues, "I didn't eat lunch today and want to get something out of the vending machine."  Again, I wanted to say, "I'm having trouble seeing where I fit into this equation."  But I knew the little hooker was asking me for a dollar, so I gave it to her.

As she took the money she says "I'll pay you back."  I jokingly(?) responded "Oh I know you will, I know where you work!"  It was all smiles as she scurried to the vending machine and got her little bird food.  I continued on with my day, confident my dollar would be returned to me within 24 hours or so.  I've loaned out dollars before, and have always had them given back.

It has now been 9 days and this bitch hasn't given me my dollar back.  I have literally seen her everyday, and there's been no mention of it.  Bitch, did you blackout or something?  You don't recall asking me for money last week?  You're just.....you're just not going to give it back at all??  For real???

Folks, I have tried to forget my dollar, I really have.  I've told myself it's a charity write-off.  I've asked myself what Jesus would do.  I've tried to convince myself that that dollar would be long gone by now anyway.  None of this is working!  It was my dollar, you guilted me into giving it to you, and now you're not gonna give it back??

All I know is

Cut Before Dawn

I work with a girl who I am sure is slap-stone crazy.  Her outward appearance says one thing, but the inner workings of that mind are apparent, honey.  I'll pass by her desk often and hear her talking to herself.  A simple "Hello, how are you today?"  turns into a manifesto.  The chick is nuttier than a fruitcake.

But here's the kicker:  she's efficient as hell.  She gets her work done at lightning speed and has energy to spare.  She's there almost everyday, and sometimes works from sun-up to sun-down.  This in mind, she seems to me like the type of crazy bitch that would cut you in the morning, get her son ready for school, drop him off and show up to work on time.  Not a moment is wasted, even when it comes to slicing up your punk-ass.

This is why I keep my general distance from her.  I don't ever want to end up on her list of things-to-do.

Bitch, Please Get Better

I think I've already made pretty clear my disdain for illness and public places.  I just feel like it's one of the most inconsiderate, rude things you can do to another person.  Especially in the workplace.

I like to call my office the Petri Dish, aka The Cesspool, because that's what it is.  All I hear all day everyday is coughing, wheezing, and sneezing.  Some of those sneezes are quite moist.  It is an infirmary.  I watch bugs and viruses spread like the wave in a crowded football stadium on a hot summer day.  It'll start at the top of the row, then work its way down, hopping on to every victim in its path.  To make matters worse, our windows do not open, so all that air is just circulating and recirculating, getting more disgusting by the minute.

It's the nastiest shit on planet earth.  There really should be a law against coming to work sick.  As an employer, I'd want a legitimately sick employee to stay home because I wouldn't want them infecting my workforce.  Pretty soon everyone will be calling out because of one person.  How much sense does that make?  And we play this same silly little game, year after year, sometimes more than once per year.  Riddle me this, would you come to work if you had the Bubonic Plague?

I don't go down without a fight though.  I down Airborne like shots of Patron.  I sanitize my hands frequently throughout the day.  And when my sick coworkers leave, I secretly wipe down their telephone pads, keyboards, and mice.  Obsessive, I know, but this is war, people!  You have to fight for your right to stay healthy!  Being sick not only sucks but it is expensive as hell.  I feel like laying my receipts for Airborne and cough drops on the culprits' desks.

Please don't misunderstand, I'm not saying I never get sick.  The only difference between myself and my cohorts is that if I'm snotting out of the nose, I stay my ass home.  If I cough and a wad of some sort enters my throat, I stay my ass home.  If I can barely speak because my voice is gone, I stay my ass home.  This rarely happens because I fight the good fight, but it does happen from time to time.  Why can't others have the same sense of courtesy?  It's almost like, "Oh well, I'm sick now.  Who cares who else gets sick.  At least we'll long-suffer together."  Fuck the entirety of that shit.  It's nasty.  And it's rude.  Bitch, please get better.

The Man In The Window

Or whatever the hell the name of the actual movie is.  Alls I know is that it's scary.  I'm really not a fan of scary movies in general, mostly because THEY'RE SCARY!  Also, one really has to wonder about the person who thinks up, writes down, and publishes these story-lines.  As a parent, how would you feel knowing your 12 year old son is in his room daydreaming about dismemberment?  Do you really want to live under the same roof as that?  I just don't think it's the mark of a healthy mind.

Anyway, there is some new movie out whose basic plot is that if you happen to catch a glimpse of this very strange-looking man in the woods or in your window, he comes into your house, your mind, haunts you, kills you, maims you, etc. etc.  I'm guessing the all-around goal is to not see they guy.  Or whatever.

Honey, this couldn't be me.  If I see your ass lurking outside of my window, I'm liable to tell you to bring the trash cans in.  If you somehow infiltrate the home, please believe you will be fixing faulty light switches and hooking up dvd players.  Don't lurk unless you wanna be put to work.  I don't care if you are a damn ghost.  That's even better!  That means you shouldn't tire easily.

Prostitutes

Yup.  You are.  So am I.  And so is everyone who is not doing what they really want to be doing to earn money and make a living.

Think about it, how does a prostitute spend her days?  She spends her days trolling the streets, looking for Johns to turn tricks with.  For money.  Now do you really think that's what she wants to be doing all day?  Hell no! She'd probably be thankful to get the job you're complaining about.  But that's not the point.  The point is, she's applying her efforts and her energy towards something she'd really rather not be doing. For money.  And so are you.

My goal in life is to stop turning tricks for these large corporations and become the Pimp in my own life.  However, as it stands right now, I'm the one being pimped.  I'm told when to show up and when I can leave.  I'm told when I can eat and for how long.  I'm told how to act, and if I act out, I get the pimp-hand-strong.  I'm told how much money out of my paycheck I get to keep.  I have to beg for days off.  If I go missing, my pimp will come looking for me.  And if I really piss my pimp off, he'll make sure no other pimps in the area will take me under their wing.

So you see, it is vital that I make the transition from being a prostitute who does it for money, to that more of a whore, who does it for fun!

Psycho By Design

Greetings dear readers and birdies!  My apologies for the extended absence.  I do believe my job is trying to kill me, and only recently have I been able to dig my way out from under all of the work and get back to you all!  We've got a lot of catching up to do, so strap in.

Like I said, I do believe my job is trying to kill me, but I'm not gonna let them.  The workload has increased to levels that are essentially unmanageable--for one person anyway.  What's worse is that my caretaker aka boss is particularly tightly wound these days.  If I didn't know better, I'd think he was on some of the best speed money can buy.

As I watch him zip-lining around the office, I can't help but feel sorry for him, because I'm pretty sure he wasn't born this way; he was created.  He was created out of the general insanity that is Corporate America.  It's hard to manage that many humans and that much data.  Pretty soon it all becomes a massive dragon, chasing its own tail, scorching itself in the process.

My biggest hope for myself and all of you, is to one day enter a career where I have control over what my hands, heart, and mind are doing, all day long.  When you don't, and if you aren't right now, you, me, and everyone else are essentially...

Team-Building

I'm just sayin, I think we'd all be a little bit more humble if we had to go to work naked one day out of the week.

Think about it:  What kind of drama could you possibly have that day?  What more is there to say?  I mean, here I am and there you are and well.....there you have it.

What could be a better team-building than that?

Tall And Fine

I work with a guy who is tall and fine for no reason.  Every time he walks in the building, I get pissed off.  I'm pissed primarily because you are both tall and fine.  You could have chosen just tall or just fine, but noooo.  You had to be both, with your greedy ass.  So now, instead of focusing on my work, I'm focused on your tall, fine ass, and the various things I would allow you to do to me.

I honestly don't think it's fair.