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May 10, 2006
Justin
I'm writing this, figuratively, on my way out the door to work. Work, where it seems I will, without a doubt, run in to Justin.
Justin is one of my dear new coworkers. He shows up every Wednesday night and shares a few hours of my shift with me. He was hired to ostensibly to stock the store, he however spends most of his time between smoking pot by the dumpster talking to his friend, whose name I haven't yet gotten, about their next big deal and stealing disposable diapers.
He explained that he is basically entitled to the diapers because he doesn't want to buy them, but needs them because he's got a baby girl.
It was explained to me this way: He and his baby momma were doing just fine -- you think he tattoos just any old ho's name on his neck? -- but then she went and "wronged" him with another man. So they broke up, I mean, "ain't no way" a man can stay with a woman that "disrespects him like that." But a couple of months later he got a call from The Bitch saying she was pregnant with his baby. Even though he was, like, "uh uh. It ain't mine." It turrned out to be his -- they got "all them" paternity tests done -- so he "gots" to provide for his baby, but he "ain't spending no money" on "nothing to make that bitch's life easier."
So Justin comes to work and steals diapers he feels he's entitled to and I say nothing to Brent, the manager. After all, Justin's got seniority.
Posted by calculatoronfire at May 10, 2006 08:42 PM
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