Work: An anecdote
Cafeteria. Any given shift.
Whee, another day on the job. It’s nice to know there are still places that doll out two dollars above the minimum wage for physical labor Stephen Hawking could do, as opposed to Troy, where raises above $6.15/h for actual labor are about as likely as women on the internet.
And speakin’ of, the ones here aren’t too bad. In fact, I dare say most of them are cute. I mean judging by their conversations as a lot of them pass by they shouldn’t have graduated third grade, but hey. You can’t be picky.
Some of them could stand to eat more though. Maybe I’m just not into the whole skeletal-fucking thing. I dunno. Something about boning a holocaust survivor has never appealed to me.
Like this chick here. Obviously emo- you know, all you have to do is read the shirts anymore. It’s either some incredibly, incredibly (no seriously, fucking awful) shitty band or some vague and pretentious poetry in that one font that nobody uses because you can’t goddamned read it. Anyways, I mean this chick might be nice when she’s not cutting herself or crying along to the latest Paramore dump, but maybe if she went through the main serving line instead of just the salad line with a bowl, she wouldn’t look like one of Hitler’s “just-missed”. I mean, if she spent half the time she did putting on that eyeliner, dyeing and combing her hair so nicely, and buying those designer women’s…
…Pants. Wait.
Oh God.
That’s not a girl at all.
No.
NO.


