(no subject)
having recently completed my second week of work at the gas station, i can safely say that if i never see another lottery ticket, pack of cigarettes, or six-pack of cheap beer ever again, it will be too soon. ugh. this was supposed to be a part-time job to alleviate some of my boredom and earn some gas money, but they're so desperately understaffed that i'm basically working full-time. double ugh. luckily i work with some quality people:
- steve-the-stoner, who takes smoke breaks every 30 minutes and tells me about his substance-fueled exploits in the meantime (who plays 15 rounds of beer pong and then does jaeger bombs? steve does!). he also offered me drugs the first time we worked together.
- another coworker, who went into nicotine withdrawal - not from quitting smoking, but from switching to american spirit cigarettes.
- the new stockboy, who has a serious napoleon complex - he got fired from another job for PUNCHING A CUSTOMER IN THE FACE.
- the twenty-something redneck firefigher who gave me his number after a very, very dry conversation about his firefighting skillz, and then showed up the next time i worked to ask me if i found him "creepy." he doesn't actually work at the gas station, but he hangs out there enough to count as a coworker. luckily he's basically stopped hitting on me, although he spent a good half hour yesterday telling me in excruciating detail about the repairs he's done on his truck (i don't even know what an oil pan IS, my god), which is possibly worse.
i may have to quit soon (which i can totally afford after working so fucking much). let's face it, i'm way too bourgeois for a job like this.
- steve-the-stoner, who takes smoke breaks every 30 minutes and tells me about his substance-fueled exploits in the meantime (who plays 15 rounds of beer pong and then does jaeger bombs? steve does!). he also offered me drugs the first time we worked together.
- another coworker, who went into nicotine withdrawal - not from quitting smoking, but from switching to american spirit cigarettes.
- the new stockboy, who has a serious napoleon complex - he got fired from another job for PUNCHING A CUSTOMER IN THE FACE.
- the twenty-something redneck firefigher who gave me his number after a very, very dry conversation about his firefighting skillz, and then showed up the next time i worked to ask me if i found him "creepy." he doesn't actually work at the gas station, but he hangs out there enough to count as a coworker. luckily he's basically stopped hitting on me, although he spent a good half hour yesterday telling me in excruciating detail about the repairs he's done on his truck (i don't even know what an oil pan IS, my god), which is possibly worse.
i may have to quit soon (which i can totally afford after working so fucking much). let's face it, i'm way too bourgeois for a job like this.