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I'm working at a coffee chain. My store is a little rough.
The other day, two guys had sex in our men's room. We know this because when my coworker kicked them out, one of them was falling out of his pants. Oh, and because there was semen on the wall.
Today, another coworker kicked TWO sets of heroin addicts out of the bathroom. Another man hid himself behind some curtains and fell unconscious for several hours. We discovered him at closing time, and our efforts (shaking, yelling, clapping) to revive him failed. He sat there with a puddle of drool on his shirt until the paramedics came and got him out.
There is a man who comes every day (unassociated with the company) and sits with a yellow legal pad. His self-appointed job is to complain about everything and tell us exactly how things MUST be done. He is the biggest ass in the entire world. He masturbates with tweezers, no doubt, and I can't imagine what kind of life would drive one to scrutinize--and, basically, appoint oneself an impotent manager of--a coffee chain for HOURS a day. HE thinks he's the best, smartest, most valuable thing ever to happen to all of us. When you say, "delusions of grandeur," this man is the definition. I wish that, someday, something will happen to set him straight, as harshly as possible.
I get less than $1/hour in tips, and I get paid minimum wage. On Craigslist, people are posting about how you shouldn't tip baristas because they make too much money (so much, in fact, that they retire at age 35). Well.
Despite all that, the job is okay. I don't hate it, and I'm not constantly thinking about how many minutes until I can go home (like I was at Michaels). I'm sure it's only a matter of time until that happens, considering the clientele. The manager is really cool, though, and the people I work with work hard.
I get coffee on the job, which is crucial to the mandatorily omnipresent pleasant mood.
I'm having a good time, but I don't know why I'm not really enjoying myself. I feel like I'm cleaning a coffee shop or I'm cleaning an apartment, satisfying customers or satisfying people I know here. I miss the walks I used to take in Connecticut, where I could get away. And I think I miss the aspect of my old job that allowed me to be on my own. I miss having a clean space to live (I have carpets and no vacuum and it's driving me crazy) but I can fix that by getting a vacuum. I haven't made anything creative in weeks.
Nobody is taking advantage of me, but I feel really put-upon.
I don't know what I want to do, but I feel like I'm missing it again, despite making changes in my life.
I have everything set up so nicely, but I'm not really feeling it.
I've been sleeping late, and waking up tired.
I haven't posted here for a while. Sorry to post only complaints. I don't know who else to complain to; everyone's out or asleep, and the person I'd talk to would play the "who suffers more" game and that's just no fun. So pffffft to everything right now; I'm going to watch a movie and maybe post something more pleasant in the morning.
The other day, two guys had sex in our men's room. We know this because when my coworker kicked them out, one of them was falling out of his pants. Oh, and because there was semen on the wall.
Today, another coworker kicked TWO sets of heroin addicts out of the bathroom. Another man hid himself behind some curtains and fell unconscious for several hours. We discovered him at closing time, and our efforts (shaking, yelling, clapping) to revive him failed. He sat there with a puddle of drool on his shirt until the paramedics came and got him out.
There is a man who comes every day (unassociated with the company) and sits with a yellow legal pad. His self-appointed job is to complain about everything and tell us exactly how things MUST be done. He is the biggest ass in the entire world. He masturbates with tweezers, no doubt, and I can't imagine what kind of life would drive one to scrutinize--and, basically, appoint oneself an impotent manager of--a coffee chain for HOURS a day. HE thinks he's the best, smartest, most valuable thing ever to happen to all of us. When you say, "delusions of grandeur," this man is the definition. I wish that, someday, something will happen to set him straight, as harshly as possible.
I get less than $1/hour in tips, and I get paid minimum wage. On Craigslist, people are posting about how you shouldn't tip baristas because they make too much money (so much, in fact, that they retire at age 35). Well.
Despite all that, the job is okay. I don't hate it, and I'm not constantly thinking about how many minutes until I can go home (like I was at Michaels). I'm sure it's only a matter of time until that happens, considering the clientele. The manager is really cool, though, and the people I work with work hard.
I get coffee on the job, which is crucial to the mandatorily omnipresent pleasant mood.
I'm having a good time, but I don't know why I'm not really enjoying myself. I feel like I'm cleaning a coffee shop or I'm cleaning an apartment, satisfying customers or satisfying people I know here. I miss the walks I used to take in Connecticut, where I could get away. And I think I miss the aspect of my old job that allowed me to be on my own. I miss having a clean space to live (I have carpets and no vacuum and it's driving me crazy) but I can fix that by getting a vacuum. I haven't made anything creative in weeks.
Nobody is taking advantage of me, but I feel really put-upon.
I don't know what I want to do, but I feel like I'm missing it again, despite making changes in my life.
I have everything set up so nicely, but I'm not really feeling it.
I've been sleeping late, and waking up tired.
I haven't posted here for a while. Sorry to post only complaints. I don't know who else to complain to; everyone's out or asleep, and the person I'd talk to would play the "who suffers more" game and that's just no fun. So pffffft to everything right now; I'm going to watch a movie and maybe post something more pleasant in the morning.