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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 08:42 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 06, 2006

Janet, My Co-worker

"Did he tell you yet?"
Brent, the manager at Royal Farms where I have the pleasure of working from time to time, was hurrying out the door and Janet, the woman he described as his best employee just stood behind the counter staring at what looked like a bag of Utz chips. As soon as Brent left she started up, though. In a disgusted tone she asked, "Did he tell you yet?"
"What? Who?"
"That little bastard."
"You mean Brent?"
"Yeah. The pedophile."
"Umm. I don't think he mentioned anything about that, no. He told me you were Janet, though." He didn't have time to introduce us then, but I knew I was supposed to train with Janet and she knew the new guy was coming in.
"He's supposed to tell everyone that comes to work here. He's a pedophile. Don't bring your kids in here. He's a pervert. I feel him undressing me with his eyes every time I come in. It's disgusting. That's why I have to get out of here."

When Brent told me about Janet all he said was that she was his best employee and that she had a bit of a bladder problem. That description was a bit inaccurate. First of all, the problem was nothing that couldn't be fixed by cutting out the bladder and replacing it with a bag strapped to her ankle. And two, she may have been his best worker, but she would have been described as something like a pig with lipstick.
I've heard that saying a few time before, like putting lipstick on a pig and it never really meant anything to me besides someone was trying desperately for laughs by using some stupid, cliche metaphore. But it would have fit to describe Janet. Sort of.
A more accurate description would be eyeshadow on a raisin.

Wrinkled old lady went on and on for the rest of the night telling me about how much she disliked Brent. How she was sure he undressed her with his eyes, Something I seriously doubted, how she was sure he was a pedophile and was therefore required to tell everyone he worked with that he was a "registered pervert" and a thing of two about running the night shift at the Royal Farms.

Posted by calculatoronfire at 11:42 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

May 05, 2006

Gluten

My dogs like to drink.

She really likes to drink Boh Ice.

At least she has a bladder, not a bag attached to her ankle. Oh, yeah.
I'll tell you about that later.

Posted by calculatoronfire at 11:04 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack