Work is Work
Woah. You’re that chick from McDonald’s.
That’s correct. I am that chick from McDonald’s. Formerly known as That Chick. I guess that’s cool. It’s not like I have a name or anything. (Michelle.) S’all good.
Now I am working full time overnights at a job I don’t exactly mind too much. And therein lies the problem. When you grow to accept things as they are, they grow to get used to being that way. And then they never ever ever change.
And then you’re stuck.
You’re stuck in a full time, 40 hour a week, 11 P.M. to 7 A.M., fast-food job where no body wants you to tell them your name, you work, breathe and sleep in a smell that you can’t escape and your social life slowly, but surely dissipates into nothing. And it never ever changes. Ever.
Then one day someone new gets your shifts, just because they wanted to try it out. They get them and you throw a temper tantrum because they’re YOUR shifts and you want them and no one else can have them because they’re yours… etc. You see the next week, and hey, look at that. They got your shifts again. Then you quit without notice, never go into your full time, 40 hour a week, 11 P.M. to 7 A.M., fast food job where nobody cares.
I haven’t gotten to that part of my job yet, but someone else did, and that’s why I have it.
It’s really not that big a deal right? Money is money, right? It’s just Sunday-Thursday every week…. Right? This is the beginning of a very new way of living for me.
So-long to Summers where I just didn’t give a fuck. I just didn’t need to. Good by social life and bar hopping and most awesome “YesSummer” ever. It’s okay, really. Money is money. Right.
