Two Days, B****. [Journal 7-11-17]

The Verve – Bitter Sweet Symphony.

(This journal entry is being posted late, as I didn’t want to post it at the time of originally writing.)

Day one of my secret journal entries. I worry the sociopath, driven by whatever imitates emotions within him, is mad haxxoring the net – which he runs. Likely paranoia, as the dude’s a moron, but odd net-lag began around the time he started being cunty – which occurs in suspiciously predictable intervals. Accordingly, I must secret my journal entries. I’m running out of food and water, hiding from the savages in a storage compartment; I have maybe 3 days worth left, and no leads on further supplies.

Joking, except about the secret part. Best to be cautious, is all. And yes, that means the previous journal entries, starting from the great catastrophe, were written with possible eaves-dropping in mind. Anyway, found a job. Took me two days. *FFLLLEEXXX* Oh, and I’m not keen on the attached song. But this amuses me, as the song played while I was at a thrift-store, buying work-clothes.

No, it’s by no means a glorious job. But it’s with a popular, small, local company. I’ll be working as a cook again. It’s within fifteen-minutes walking distance from here, and therefore close to where I intent to move in the future. I just walked in, with my resume and letters of reference, asked to see the Chef about finding work, and it went from there. He and I talked for.. at least an hour. Then I was hired. I did go there yesterday however, speaking to someone else – whom apparently was kind enough not to pass on my resume/letters of reference, or inform Chef I was there. Gotta love people.

Chef and I talked, him primarily stressing the demands of the job, to-which I replied with examples from my work history; he was pleased. Along with that, I stressed the common occurrences with me and people: that I’m often the target of unjustified hatred, driven by jealousy/fear. Of course, I couched the info in far “humbler” and “polite” terms. His said that sort of behavior was unacceptable, just talk to him – though hinted it does occur. As our conversations reskirted the issues, I kept retouching on the point. Thus, if such occurs in the future, I’ve got an avenue of discussion available.

Anyway. Pay’s 15, possibly 16-16.75 with the kitchen’s cut of sales. In our final words, I reiterated clearly that, if he treated me fairly, he’d have a great worker; if not, I’d talk to him about it, and if not resolved, I’d leave. That was merely another conversation inroad I wanted established. He then said something to the tune of: “I’m looking forward to working together,” I thanked him, then left. Was directly discussing the topic a good idea? Probably not, but I’m sick of bad bosses fucking me over.

I’m going in tomorrow, around 3pm. Which is great for me, as it doesn’t force a dramatic shift in sleeping-schedule, which I’m honestly lagging from already. I’m at fulltime, with nearly consistent hours, in a 5-day-straight shift – rather than different shifts on random days, like allot of jobs try to fucking pull. Another bonus to that specific timeslot: my scumbag roommates are unlikely to see me coming or going. So, they’re less likely to try fucking with my room. They’ll likely think I’m in my room, as I usually am; I blocked light leaking out long ago – a side-effect of blocking air flow to maximize my AC unit’s efficiency.

Chef tried to put me on the “line,” where cooks are working during business-hours, cooking the food to order, but gave me the option to take the prep position. I took the prep position, at a dollar less pay. Prep is essentially the job wherein you work consistently, rather than in bursts of activity – which happens on the line. And this specific restaurant gets insanely busy. They have seating for.. possibly over 300, with wait times of “an hour.”

I chose prep for a number of reasons. First of all: the line is a higher skill-demand, so it could get me fired – I’ve never been on a dedicated line position. Second: I want to make sure I can handle fulltime in a kitchen – which is far harder work than most people imagine – after a year of mostly sitting on my ass. Third: prep is the best place to ingratiate from: prep usually helps with everyone else’s work; while doing that, you’re often trained in their jobs without the pressures of meeting expectations; and helping everyone, while being in the bitch position, is a good way to establish myself socially.

Am I worried about failing to keep up, after all this sitting on my ass, only really just limping out of depression? Fuck yes. But, we’ll see what happens. I figure, once I work there a week, I go look for housing. If I’m really lucky, they’ll be more concerned with my perfectly clean rental history, background check, solid credit score, and ability to pay first, last, and deposit. I might have to draw cash with my credit card, but I’m pretty sure I can manage it.

Dear future lover,

Buttstuff?

Oh, and another bonus to the job: little-to-no overtime. So sick of being the fucking go-to for my boss and coworker’s rampaging incompetence. You people really don’t deserve me. Imagine what I could do for all of you, if you stopped fucking with me for a day or two.


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~ by Louis Naughtic on August 3, 2017.

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