"If you want a view of the future then imagine a boot stomping on a human face forever"- George Orwe
Is it considered a rock bottom when you find yourself masturbating to working at a job you actually like? Aside from tiling I've taken up work at retail. Off hours stock in the back room. The thing is that if you're on the sales floor and a customer stops you then you're expected to drop everything and help that asshole with whatever he's wanting help with. I'm not legally allowed to say what retail chain is currently crushing my soul. It's a major one though. I can't tell you how often I'll tell someone that we're out of stock on something and the customer insists I check the back. Here's some food for thought: the backroom is not some magical treasure trove where we secretly keep the good stuff. If it's not in stock that means it's not in the store. Period. I know there was a period at the end of the sentence but I thought I'd emphasis that point. Today was the worst by far. This, pardon my language, wretched cunt insisted that we had a crib in the back room. We didn't. We never called her and said we did. She just assumed that because she needed it that we must have it. Her little goon of a toddler was just as bad. Insisting that I was lying. I'm not going to get between the little hobgoblin that's growing in her and it's crib. We just didn't have any. I'd suggest crumpled up newspaper until then. Or, you know, go to a different fucking store.
As I'm working in an unventilated back room and unloading a truck the company's then song is blaring. Non-stop. This is what George Orwell wrote about. This is it. By the time I'm done with school and move onto a career will it be to late? Will I love Big Brother?
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