"...a lifter-puller line for those without any game..."
Fuck Books-a-Million.
Long story short: They sent me home today because my username/password to clock in/out didn't work. It was a problem with THEIR system, not me or my inputting of the info. But dickhead fucking General Manager sent me home because of a problem that HE was responsible for. I called tech support for the timeclock people and their response was to tell me to tell my GENERAL MANAGER to fix it.
After two hours of phone calls and research upon the matter my GENERAL MANAGER 'managed' to fix it. So why in the fuck did he send me home if the resolution to the issue was HIS to fix? FUCK THAT GUY. FUCK THAT PLACE. FUCK THAT JOB.
Sigh.
I've been drinking alone at night the past four nights for lack of any, um, other substances. Just so you know I haven't Sat With Peace Pipe in like ten days or more. Since right before Katrina hit. Sigh.
So everyone at work thinks I'm from "up north" because I refuse to speak with a damned hick accent. I tried telling them at first that I was born and raised here. The answer is always the same, "Yeah but where are you from, ORIGINALLY?"
!!
Fucking I JUST TOLD YOU; I'm from here you dipshit. HERE. FROM. HERE. As in BORN AND RAISED, just like I JUST GOT DONE TELLING YOU. Assholes.
But it is sort of a tiny complement for people to think I'm not from here. I guess that counts for something even though people are idiots.
Also... I find myself regressing into socially-anxious-Tyler when I'm there. It gets harder and harder for me to make eye-contact with people, customers, employees. I just can't deal with the HICKS in this town. If it's not CARS or NEEDLEWORK or Doctor fucking Phil then it's not worth reading.
People have to be told what to like and it disgusts me. I try, TRY to have compassion but I'm no monk and I'm sure as hell no Buddha. I'm trying. I know the difference and that's a start. I don't want to be judgemental, I don't want to be a dick but I can't deal with some of this BULLSHIT.
Today this 18-year-old girl I work with was all like, "So are you married?" - Sigh, like you can't look at my left-hand on your own.
"No", I replied.
"Girlfriend?", she asked.
"Not really", I replied.
"Oh. Well when did you move here?", she asked, annoyingly.
"July 4th", I replied.
"Oh. Well where are you from?", she asked.
"Here", I told her.
"No way!", she said.
"Way", I thought. "way".
It's 54 degrees in that store. That's too cold; it's miserable. Plus, unlike Borders, they keep a GOD DAMNED TELEVISION on the whole day, blathering on and on about Katrina this and victims that. As if I didn't get enough of that at home. IT'S A FUCKING BOOKSTORE, people. Why a TV?
Oh yeah. It's Sevierville. If there weren't a "teevee" then there'd be no reason to go there. Except for the motorcycle magazines. One section that is always messy and perused is the Television section. WELCOME TO SEVIERVILLE. Books about "teevee" are more popular than books about, you know, "ideas".
Sigh.
I hate for this to be a bitch-and-whine-blog but, as Dave would likely say, "too late".
In fact, I am going to drink again tonight. Maybe it'll make me forget how crappy this town is.
On another note my next-door-neighbor who is like 78 years old had a stroke (or possibly heart attack or maybe even both) last night. They found him at the Sevierville city park in his car, not breathing. Last I heard, right before I went to work, they were pumping air into him. Not sure about brain damage, not sure about coronary. Poor guy. His name is Herbert Lawson. No one deserves to die alone in their car. That's just awful. So I pray for him and have all day. In fact I've been able to think of little else.
I don't know the guy but he took care of his mother, lived with her for years. For that I respect him. It's hard for me to spend two hours with my mom so that dude deserves mad props.
Heh. He probably has no idea what "mad props" means. If he died I'll be quite sad but if he lived I'll be even sadder. I wish for him freedom from the suffering and pain of This Life. I wish for him the beauty and deliverance into the Next Movement, whatever it is.
Herbert Lawson, whatever your state or condition, you are a human-being and I wish you no more suffering. May you be enveloped within Love and Life's Essence. And if you are already resting then goodnight and may you never suffer again.
Tyler Steed McClure
Long story short: They sent me home today because my username/password to clock in/out didn't work. It was a problem with THEIR system, not me or my inputting of the info. But dickhead fucking General Manager sent me home because of a problem that HE was responsible for. I called tech support for the timeclock people and their response was to tell me to tell my GENERAL MANAGER to fix it.
After two hours of phone calls and research upon the matter my GENERAL MANAGER 'managed' to fix it. So why in the fuck did he send me home if the resolution to the issue was HIS to fix? FUCK THAT GUY. FUCK THAT PLACE. FUCK THAT JOB.
Sigh.
I've been drinking alone at night the past four nights for lack of any, um, other substances. Just so you know I haven't Sat With Peace Pipe in like ten days or more. Since right before Katrina hit. Sigh.
So everyone at work thinks I'm from "up north" because I refuse to speak with a damned hick accent. I tried telling them at first that I was born and raised here. The answer is always the same, "Yeah but where are you from, ORIGINALLY?"
!!
Fucking I JUST TOLD YOU; I'm from here you dipshit. HERE. FROM. HERE. As in BORN AND RAISED, just like I JUST GOT DONE TELLING YOU. Assholes.
But it is sort of a tiny complement for people to think I'm not from here. I guess that counts for something even though people are idiots.
Also... I find myself regressing into socially-anxious-Tyler when I'm there. It gets harder and harder for me to make eye-contact with people, customers, employees. I just can't deal with the HICKS in this town. If it's not CARS or NEEDLEWORK or Doctor fucking Phil then it's not worth reading.
People have to be told what to like and it disgusts me. I try, TRY to have compassion but I'm no monk and I'm sure as hell no Buddha. I'm trying. I know the difference and that's a start. I don't want to be judgemental, I don't want to be a dick but I can't deal with some of this BULLSHIT.
Today this 18-year-old girl I work with was all like, "So are you married?" - Sigh, like you can't look at my left-hand on your own.
"No", I replied.
"Girlfriend?", she asked.
"Not really", I replied.
"Oh. Well when did you move here?", she asked, annoyingly.
"July 4th", I replied.
"Oh. Well where are you from?", she asked.
"Here", I told her.
"No way!", she said.
"Way", I thought. "way".
It's 54 degrees in that store. That's too cold; it's miserable. Plus, unlike Borders, they keep a GOD DAMNED TELEVISION on the whole day, blathering on and on about Katrina this and victims that. As if I didn't get enough of that at home. IT'S A FUCKING BOOKSTORE, people. Why a TV?
Oh yeah. It's Sevierville. If there weren't a "teevee" then there'd be no reason to go there. Except for the motorcycle magazines. One section that is always messy and perused is the Television section. WELCOME TO SEVIERVILLE. Books about "teevee" are more popular than books about, you know, "ideas".
Sigh.
I hate for this to be a bitch-and-whine-blog but, as Dave would likely say, "too late".
In fact, I am going to drink again tonight. Maybe it'll make me forget how crappy this town is.
On another note my next-door-neighbor who is like 78 years old had a stroke (or possibly heart attack or maybe even both) last night. They found him at the Sevierville city park in his car, not breathing. Last I heard, right before I went to work, they were pumping air into him. Not sure about brain damage, not sure about coronary. Poor guy. His name is Herbert Lawson. No one deserves to die alone in their car. That's just awful. So I pray for him and have all day. In fact I've been able to think of little else.
I don't know the guy but he took care of his mother, lived with her for years. For that I respect him. It's hard for me to spend two hours with my mom so that dude deserves mad props.
Heh. He probably has no idea what "mad props" means. If he died I'll be quite sad but if he lived I'll be even sadder. I wish for him freedom from the suffering and pain of This Life. I wish for him the beauty and deliverance into the Next Movement, whatever it is.
Herbert Lawson, whatever your state or condition, you are a human-being and I wish you no more suffering. May you be enveloped within Love and Life's Essence. And if you are already resting then goodnight and may you never suffer again.
Tyler Steed McClure