Tag Archives: brothel

The Idiot & The Holiday

12 Nov

image

A true story:

(Phone buzzes, and I pick it up.)

Boss Text: So, you’re not here.  Are you taking today off?

My text: Yes.  Everyone is.

Boss Text: Why?

My Text: B/c it’s Vet’s Day.

Boss Text: No isn’t.

My Text: Yes. Is.

Boss Text: That was yesterday.

My Text: Observe on following Mon = Today.

Boss Text: We who? The Co.?

My Text: The Nation.

Boss Text: But not Co.

My Text: Yes.  Us too.  Look on sched.  Been posted over three weeks. And in email. And reminders on Fri for Mon alerts. See where it says “Holiday” in everyone’s boxes?

Boss Text: Thought meant day off for non-staff.

My Text: That’s not even a thing we do. “Holiday” is self explanatory.

Boss Text:  I didn’t know.

My Text: Am not coming in.

Boss Text: You can take day off.

My Text: I know. It’s a Holiday.

Boss Text: Well, am not gonna argue it.  Just want know where everyone was.  I guess see you tomorrow.

(No response.)

Boss Text: You will be in, right?

***

… Just your average Monday of shit I have to deal with, even on a Monday when I’m not supposed to have to deal with it.

So thank you again, Boss…for continuing to provide constant idiocy in all you do.

In Other News: A little nesting and clean.  Spanish rice-making, friend IM-ing and script reviewing.  Walk to the market for incidentals, some coffee, some laundry sorting, some Ma hanging. A good day.  As days go. 

…Back to the mindless drivel tomorrow. 

~D

Advertisements

Rocket-Shipping In The Warehouse

2 Nov

image
We are one less Employee in population today, here at the ol’ Brothel.

…The WHS Mgr walked in this morning on enough pot, canned CO2, and empty beer bottles to launch an Apollo mission.  The company truck was missing, the forklift: naked in the yard with the key still in it, the gates wide open, and the only clue to go on, being from his WHS lackey at 10:30 PM last night…calling in “sick” for today.

…And now we know why.

A stellar employee, he never was…this is fact.  But that is to be expected from a grown man still living with his parents, who smelled of alcohol poisoning and organ damage, perpetually…never bathed, and had a penchant for hitting on everything with an “X” chromosome.  Even the AM/PM tellers across the street were creeped out in his presence.

“How did he get the job to begin with then,” you may ask?

Because Boss has a “thing” for “second chances” in life. Because he was cheap. And because he answered the ad.

…In that order.

Sure, he had to pass a drug screen et al upon hire, and he did…though at least two of us (in retrospect), have no idea how. It was obvious to us, within a week, that this guy had “issues”…and grounding him from whipping the forklift and trucks around was about the maximum power that either the WHS Mgr (or I) had in this. 

…Which, then, leaves a fairly useless employee, wandering around, making piles of stuff in the yard, then reorganizing them into new piles, over and over and over again.  Occasionally he would paint, or repair something. Sometimes he would shelve some stuff, but by and large his specialty seemed to be off-the-clock drinking, tweaking out on any number of alternate-controlled substances, showing up two hours late, and stacking things, while bitching.

He will not be missed.

Now…every time a layoff occurs here, there is this whole “procedure” we have to undertake directly afterward. Because anyone who has ever worked here knows every weakness in the system of his place…and they know the hours we keep, that the alarm pads are purely for “show” and that if they want something it takes very little effort to get in here and take it. Not that we have much of any worth, outside of product…which weights a literal shit-ton, but with a forklift and a truck in-hand, this place is easy pickings really…and everyone knows it.

…So, instead of doing his average Friday of usual fix-its, the WHS Mgr has been flying around changing locks and bolts and combos and passwords on everything all morning long. Though we know that these things only work enough to keep an honest person honest, and that any pissed-off, drugged-up, drunken asshole who might want to get in, to say…deface every piece of property we own…could very easily do just that, with only a pair of bolt cutters and a 2 x 4.

…We KNOW this…

…And of all the layoffs, THIS is the one that verily PROMISES a return payment. We totally expect it. We just don’t know exactly what it’ll be, or when, or how.

…Which is sorta terrifying, really.

…So today, we are each of us, boxing up and relocating materials and things so that when (not “if”) the inevitable occurs, the damage might not be so bad. But it probably will. And we’ll have to deal with it. Most likely, on Monday.

…Which it totally great, cuz that’s exactly what we NEED! I often say that, in fact: “Geeze I wish we had more crap-happy calamities on Mondays! I feel there just isn’t enough of that in general, around here!”

~D

Didja Know?

21 Aug

image

Here’s a game, like when we were kids: I tell you ten things you don’t know about me, and you tell me ten things I don’t know about you.  Explanations are optional.

Ready?

Go!

1) I went like fifteen years without eating a PB&J. 
(It’s because I ate them every day for five solid years, cuz it was a thing I decided would be a good idea.  And then it wasn’t anymore.)

2) The longest relationship I ever had with the opposite sex was in middle-school.
(It was over the course of a year.  We broke up and got back together, once.  Then I dated someone else in seventh grade.  When that ended, it took me eighteen years before I got around to dating again.  For “real.” I’m not very good at it.  Obviously.)

3) One of my all-time heart’s-desires is to be able to burp on command.
(I have this friend who can belch the whole alphabet in one long, loud roar.  He tries to teach me how to do it, but I’m just lousy with burp-action.  I refuse to accept this, however, and continue to work at it.)

4) I feel bad about my feet.
(Feet are just generally not the greatest looking.  I mean, they serve a major function, so I guess they shouldn’t have to be all beautiful and things.  But mine are one of the funkier looking ones.  I have this little “hitch” thing in the big toe? And they’re really wide. Also, the middle toe is longer than all the rest. It’s just wrong. And I wish it wasn’t.)

5) I can’t take naps. 
(It just doesn’t happen.  Unless I’m totally and completely exhausted.  But then I’ll wake up in the worst mood of all time.  Everything will make me angry and irritated without any provocation whatsoever. “You want the blue one?! I want the blue one!” “I hate commercials! Change it back! I was watching that!”  “Star Trek is stupid! So lets fight about it!”)

6) I can’t pronounce the words “wolf,” “ostensibly” or “Wednesday” correctly.
(Wolf = woof…like a dog.  Deal with it. I had to.  OBstensibly gets an added “b”  – I don’t know why – but it just does. Every time.  And I am convinced that Emma Thompson is the only person in the world who can fit the “d” into Wednesday and make it all sound like it’s supposed to. Watch “Stranger than Fiction.”  She does it like eleven times in a row.  It’s mind-blowing.)

7) I hate sneezing.
(There are few things I actually hate more.  Cancer is one of them.  And germs in general.  But sneezing actually pisses me off irrationally.  To the courtesy “Bless you,” I nine times out of ten will reply with a resounding “Fuck!”  This is not meant to counteract the blessing by any means. I will take any that I can get.  I just hate the act of sneezing is all.  So there’s that.)

8) My job at the Brothel is not nearly as amusing as it’s made out to be.
(If you are confused by this, it is my fault.  And I’m sorry.  When actually in the moments of pure and utter mind-numbing frustration and rage that I am often forced into, the last thing I wanna do is make light of the matter and laugh at it.  Which is why I  have to figure out a way to make light of the matter and laugh at it.  If I didn’t?  I’d prob’ly be in jail on charges of manslaughter by now.)

9) I am afraid of sunflowers.
(Actually “afraid,” of them. Yes.  They are this wrong kind of Jurassic monster flower that looks down on you like a tree.  I don’t like it.  It makes me feel the world proportional gauge thing is all outta wack. I mean, what next? Teradactyl sized horseflies and dog-hamsters?!)

10) I have to make my bed every morning.
(Even if I’m running super late.  Even if I’m puking-sick.  Even if I’ve been up for 53 hours straight.  Or the building was on fire.  If I don’t make my bed, I wouldn’t feel right for the rest of the whole day. And then when I went to bed  that night, it’d be all mayhem blanket clumping and sheets all over the place.  Not acceptable, you guys.)

…Now its your turn.

~D

The New Den Of Iniquity

29 Jun

image

A new chapter and a new blog.

…After three years I was hacked out of my carefully protected undercover pseudonym…not a happy moment of realization, I assure you.  But worry not, little bunnies, no personal repercussions arose from it, only private ones.  It was suggested by certain people to say, “fuck it, let ’em revel in the shit, joke’s on them.”  Only this is my haven, writing out all the dirty little details.  Always has been.  Regardless of whether certain people relish in the fact they are stars of many a frequent episode, or not…I don’t want them to have access to my private life, any more than I did before.

…Which brings us to two things: 1) Limit my audience, or 2) Pick up sticks and move to a new town.

Guess which one I picked.

…So here I am, back in witness protection, writing from what I hope will be a fantastic home for years to come.  Welcome to the new (and possibly improved) brothel, kids! I’ve cleaned it up and all, but it’ll take a while to get all the rooms themed and situated in such a way as we have all become accustomed. Till then, please join me in popping open your favorite bottle of whatever is on the bar, and raise it up in a toast…

To: The New Den of Iniquity.  May it outlive the last.

Thanks for readin’, loves.

~D

%d bloggers like this: