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Send to FriendBut like I said, work is supposed to suck. You're supposed to be miserable there--that's the bosses job: to make your life a living hell while your working for him. That's why you get paid for it: because it fucking sucks! And the worse the job is, the more money they pay you; that's how pay rate is determined, you see, regardless of what any other ignorant asshole says about the skills and value of the job. It's really determined by how shitty the job actually is. I was making minimum wage at the fast food joint, and it was literally like having died and gone to hell, so I could just imagine how shitty those high-paying jobs like doctors and lawyers must be. Anyone claiming that they actually enjoy what they do for a living is full of shit. They're lying, you see, both to everyone around them that they spew that bullshit to and to themselves as well, the lying sacks of shit. Who do they honestly think they're fooling? Certainly not me.
Anyway, I didn't last too long at that fast-food joint. I got sick of dealing with all of that shit and decided to just quit. I got other jobs afterward, some of which I was fired from, others I just walked off and went "AWOL" so to speak, but each one of them really sucked the big one, and I was glad to be clear of it, and then angered all over again when I had to get another shitty job for minimum wage and having some asshole hover over me spewing orders as though he were God and his word was law. I hate dealing with people telling me what to do and how it has to be done. I hate rules. I hate following orders. And I hate people who stand there telling me what to do and how I should do it (then again, I hate people in general). That's probably how I managed to last so long at my current job--I don't have to deal with anyone telling me what to do every second of the fucking shift. I just come into the elementary school, clean the bathrooms, mop the floors, same routine day in and day out and for the most part, people just leave me alone. Sure, occasionally I might be called down to clean up a spill somewhere, or if some kid pukes or bleeds all over the floor, but that's about it. I mean, don't get me wrong, the job sucks--any job you could possibly every have sucks the big one, take it from me. I'm just saying that mines not quite as bad as a few of the others, really. But it's still a shit job just like any other job imaginable.
Volunteer work is even worse, because they don't even pay you for that. At least with regular work, you get something out of it--maybe not much, in some cases, but you're still getting some compensation for all the misery those bastards put you through. But for volunteer work, you don't get squat! That's why the courts will sometimes sentence you to community service if you're found guilty of a crime. And why not? The prisons are overcrowded, and you've got to punish the crook somehow, right? So why not force him to do some volunteer work, right? Sounds like an excellent punishment to me. Hell, capitol punishment would sound like a nicer punishment to me than community service! Work sucks! Give back to the community? You're kidding, right? Christ, what a fucking joke, man! You slay me! Fuck that, buddy, what's the community done for me lately, huh? Fuck my community! I ain't doing shit for volunteer service unless you put a fucking gun to my head! I'd rather be castrated. I sort of feel sorry for people who actually enjoy doing volunteer work of any kind; they're lives must be pretty shitty if they enjoy working for no money. I sometimes wonder if they're playing with a full deck of cards over here. They'd have to be at least a little bit touched in the head to even be considering volunteer work in the first place. If you ask me, they're nothing but a bunch of raving lunatics that need help--they should be institutionalized immediately, and for the really far-gone people out there, just put 'em out of their misery since there's probably not much hope for them at all. I hate helping people and helping anyone doesn't make me feel better about myself at all. I was at the mall the other day, and saw this snot-nosed brat crying because she couldn't find her mommy anywhere. So you wanna know what I did? I pushed her out of my way and walked past her as though she weren't even there, not even sparing her a second glance, and I never felt any remorse about leaving her like that at all, either.
I suppose if I had to pick out one job that I would consider my favorite (it would naturally be the one job that I least hated and that lent me the least amount of pain and misery), I would have to go with the time I became a short order cook at some roadside diner somewhere when I was 20. It was a shit job like any other, but at least I had some privacy. The bossman wasn't constantly hovering over me, making sure I did things his way and ordering me around like I was his fucking slave and had to bow down to his every demand. I still had to deal with the waitresses coming in and telling me what all the faggot customers wanted, though, and I hated that. But I was alone with the food a great deal, and when no one was watching, that's when I would have all sorts of fun messing around with their food and all sorts of unsanitary thrills. Ever seen any of those Busted on the Job specials on FOX, or similar caught-on-tape specials that networks like to play every once in a while, showing cooks caught on tape contaminating people's food? Well, I had 'em all beaten and that's probably one of the few things I can actually take any pride in whatsoever! Like any other restaurant, we had a "policy" that all employees must wash hands after going to the bathroom, but I never followed it. I laughed at the sign proclaiming that EMPLOYEES MUST WASH HANDS BEFORE RETURNING TO WORK. I never once washed my hands after returning to work, not even after I took a shit. I'd simply wipe my ass, flush the toilet (with my hands of course), and that would be that. And if I got some shit on my fingers, I would just lick it off--problem solved. Sometimes I would even go into one of the stalls and masturbate in there, with my violent fantasies as I sat there yanking at my cock until I orgasmed, getting cum all over my hands. And I wouldn't wash up after that either! Sometimes I would even rummage through dumpsters to see if I could find any interesting shit amid all the garbage (I never did, though), and you guessed it--I wouldn't wash the hands after that either, pal--no fucking way! And as far as actually tampering with food goes, I didn't care who you were--if you ate at that roadside diner, I made sure to do something to your food, no exceptions. I would piss in your beverages if I could, whether it be soda, coffee, chocolate milk, or whatever you ordered. I'd come in there with a bad cold one day, my nose running all over the place, and I dripped snot over everybody's food--hah- get as many people sick as possible, that was my goal. Another time I had head lice, so I pulled out a few strands of hair (I had a lot more hair back then) and let it fall into someone's clam chowder. I loved it when the customers ordered clam chowder, because then I could do whatever I wanted to it--put a few dead flies that were lying around, spit in it, piss in it, hell even take a dump in it if I got really ambitious--and they'd have absolutely no way of knowing that anything's wrong with it at all. I loved it. Naturally I got caught after a while, and of course they just had to fire me. I got another job at another restaurant, failing to mention my employment at that roadside diner (if I was actually the type to put down my recent employment history on an application, I would no doubt be unemployable), and was, as would be expected, I guess, fired from that one as well for my unsanitary cooking habits. And the cycle repeated itself a number of times over the next couple of years.
I was eventually barred from being able to work at restaurants by court order (I tried several times to make an appeal, but they were all denied), and that really pisses me off that they did that, too. I mean, just who the hell do those people think they are, huh? What right do those fascist Nazi bastards have the right to tell me that I can't handle other people's food anymore? Even after all these years, I honestly can't believe that those assholes had the gall to make such a ruling! I swear to God, man, this is total bullshit, okay, complete and total bullshit and they had no right to do that to me at all!
June 30, 2001