Hannah J. Flynn (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} hannah_flynn) wrote,@ 2009-02-11 22:47:00 |
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Say It Aint So
Captain's Log: Stardate 02/11/2014
Dear Journal,
You may think you know on-the-job suffering.
But I'm here to tell ya something, buck-o. You don't.
You may know discomfort... duress... maybe even distress. You may have endured such a bad day on the job that you cried yourself to sleep like a little baby, hugging your pillow and nursing your thumb. However, if we put things in terms of physical injuries, I assure you that the sum total of all those crappy job experiences is still just an itchy mosquito bite compared to the sucking chest wound that was my life on the job today.
Let's chronicle it by the hour, shall we?
11am... I report for my shift at the Golden Nugget Pancake House and am informed that we're doing a special promotion, any platter for the low, low price of just $5.99.
11:02am... As I don my apron, I am pulled aside by Loretta and Mickey, the new Assistant Manager, and informed that we're advertising this special in a new and improved way, by targeting street traffic. Four lucky employees will get to wear stuffed costumes on the sidewalk and wave signs at passing cars and trucks (much like those poor bastards outside the tax businesses that dress up as Uncle Sam and Lady Liberty). The cast of yummy diner food characters will include an order of fries, a double-stack hamburger, a link of sausage, and a milkshake cup.
11:16am... I learn that my 'petite stature' makes me an ideal fit for the sausage link costume.
12:22pm... Despite protesting over the outrageous indignity, I am transformed into a pork product. My face pokes out of the side. As a sausage, I lean a little to the left.
12:37pm... My career in promotions begins. Cars honk. People lean out of their windows to hoot and hollar. I have the wild desire to throw myself off a bridge.
2:26pm... The hamburger calls it quits. He disrobes right there on the sidewalk.
3:14pm... Hysteria sets in. The milkshake and I make up songs and dances. I accidentally enjoy myself.
3:38pm... A homeless person asks me if I'm supposed to be a racially-diverse phallus. Only he uses different words.
4pm... I am released from my hellish torment.
I am definitely calling Gavin about that restaurant job.
Captain's Log: Stardate 02/11/2014
Dear Journal,
You may think you know on-the-job suffering.
But I'm here to tell ya something, buck-o. You don't.
You may know discomfort... duress... maybe even distress. You may have endured such a bad day on the job that you cried yourself to sleep like a little baby, hugging your pillow and nursing your thumb. However, if we put things in terms of physical injuries, I assure you that the sum total of all those crappy job experiences is still just an itchy mosquito bite compared to the sucking chest wound that was my life on the job today.
Let's chronicle it by the hour, shall we?
11am... I report for my shift at the Golden Nugget Pancake House and am informed that we're doing a special promotion, any platter for the low, low price of just $5.99.
11:02am... As I don my apron, I am pulled aside by Loretta and Mickey, the new Assistant Manager, and informed that we're advertising this special in a new and improved way, by targeting street traffic. Four lucky employees will get to wear stuffed costumes on the sidewalk and wave signs at passing cars and trucks (much like those poor bastards outside the tax businesses that dress up as Uncle Sam and Lady Liberty). The cast of yummy diner food characters will include an order of fries, a double-stack hamburger, a link of sausage, and a milkshake cup.
11:16am... I learn that my 'petite stature' makes me an ideal fit for the sausage link costume.
12:22pm... Despite protesting over the outrageous indignity, I am transformed into a pork product. My face pokes out of the side. As a sausage, I lean a little to the left.
12:37pm... My career in promotions begins. Cars honk. People lean out of their windows to hoot and hollar. I have the wild desire to throw myself off a bridge.
2:26pm... The hamburger calls it quits. He disrobes right there on the sidewalk.
3:14pm... Hysteria sets in. The milkshake and I make up songs and dances. I accidentally enjoy myself.
3:38pm... A homeless person asks me if I'm supposed to be a racially-diverse phallus. Only he uses different words.
4pm... I am released from my hellish torment.
I am definitely calling Gavin about that restaurant job.