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jack_babalonMeanwhile...
I'm twenty minutes into my thirty minute break and I'm still waiting for my god damn burrito. I ask the cashier who took my order what the ETA might be. She shoots me these panic rabbit eyes and starts rattling off vague excuses that are meant to resemble an apology, she points at the crowded room of patrons, then the kitchen, then the line, then the clock, and then just shrugs to somehow encompass the gravity of all these little factors she just identified put together.
"Right." I nod at her slowly "Y'see though...I've gotta be back in the office in ten minutes or else they'll call out the dogs on me..."
She shoots me a stare of pure horror.
"Dogs?" she asks with a thick accent.
"Never mind."
I go to sit down and I can feel her still staring at me. I catch out of the corner of my eye her motioning for the manager and then nodding at me nervously, he nods back gravely trying not to make it obvious. The manager seems to be some kind of subterranian mammal that somebody shaved,taught to walk upright and slapped a tie on and called it management. Then again i've often wondered what pet store it is corporate America is recruiting it's future executives from(they all seem like a race begat from monkeys that had gotten shitfaced drunk and fucked a bunch of mole rats on a bet). Suddenly a roar fills the room. The Khaki Clones are standing up and gathering around the TV mounted on the wall like a religious shrine. Jesus of Nascar must be on I figure. I look up and some red neck is careening his stock car into a wall, images of flames and then replayed over and over- crash,fire,
closeup,more fire, repeat and loop. The khaki clones are high fiving and dribbling blackbeans and salsa down their standard issue power ties.
"Sir" the manager is calling out to me. I wearily turn my head and he's holding up a bag. "Sir. Is this your order?"
"I can't tell from here."
He looks alarmed his face mirroring perfect the cashier. He really doesn't know what to do next.
I walk up and grab the bag, I give him a slight nod, and passing the cashier I whisper dramaticly to her:
"DOGS" to which she visibly shudders.
It will be ten minutes later, after being bitched at for being late on my lunch break,after kickboxing the soda machine for a few rounds to get my change back, after having to pry open a coworkers desk drawer to retrieve her car keys, that I realize that I had been given the wrong order. I look blankly into the white bag transparent with grease,meat and tortita chips and wonder what Jesus of Nascar would do?
I guess I got Shit for luck lately. What can I say? Too pissed to post the last few days. Hustling and humping to consolidate and pay off some Bad Drama Karma. Oh well. I guess life can't all be cocktails and transexual orgies until the break of dawn.
I'm twenty minutes into my thirty minute break and I'm still waiting for my god damn burrito. I ask the cashier who took my order what the ETA might be. She shoots me these panic rabbit eyes and starts rattling off vague excuses that are meant to resemble an apology, she points at the crowded room of patrons, then the kitchen, then the line, then the clock, and then just shrugs to somehow encompass the gravity of all these little factors she just identified put together.
"Right." I nod at her slowly "Y'see though...I've gotta be back in the office in ten minutes or else they'll call out the dogs on me..."
She shoots me a stare of pure horror.
"Dogs?" she asks with a thick accent.
"Never mind."
I go to sit down and I can feel her still staring at me. I catch out of the corner of my eye her motioning for the manager and then nodding at me nervously, he nods back gravely trying not to make it obvious. The manager seems to be some kind of subterranian mammal that somebody shaved,taught to walk upright and slapped a tie on and called it management. Then again i've often wondered what pet store it is corporate America is recruiting it's future executives from(they all seem like a race begat from monkeys that had gotten shitfaced drunk and fucked a bunch of mole rats on a bet). Suddenly a roar fills the room. The Khaki Clones are standing up and gathering around the TV mounted on the wall like a religious shrine. Jesus of Nascar must be on I figure. I look up and some red neck is careening his stock car into a wall, images of flames and then replayed over and over- crash,fire,
closeup,more fire, repeat and loop. The khaki clones are high fiving and dribbling blackbeans and salsa down their standard issue power ties.
"Sir" the manager is calling out to me. I wearily turn my head and he's holding up a bag. "Sir. Is this your order?"
"I can't tell from here."
He looks alarmed his face mirroring perfect the cashier. He really doesn't know what to do next.
I walk up and grab the bag, I give him a slight nod, and passing the cashier I whisper dramaticly to her:
"DOGS" to which she visibly shudders.
It will be ten minutes later, after being bitched at for being late on my lunch break,after kickboxing the soda machine for a few rounds to get my change back, after having to pry open a coworkers desk drawer to retrieve her car keys, that I realize that I had been given the wrong order. I look blankly into the white bag transparent with grease,meat and tortita chips and wonder what Jesus of Nascar would do?
I guess I got Shit for luck lately. What can I say? Too pissed to post the last few days. Hustling and humping to consolidate and pay off some Bad Drama Karma. Oh well. I guess life can't all be cocktails and transexual orgies until the break of dawn.
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missed you at gaming last night
on 2004-07-21 12:25 pm (UTC)Where do you work? I mean, what part of town? Maybe I could meet you for lunch on a Thursday. Maybe I could wear some latex and bring sushi for you to eat off of my belly in the break room. I'd love to see the reaction from your coworkers. :)
Bon
Re: missed you at gaming last night
on 2004-07-21 12:36 pm (UTC)Food for thought. I'd dig the sushi thing, but there's nothing
"Cold fish" about you. I work in the third and a 1/2 circle of hell. The hospital sector by Scottish rite and Northside. How'd the game go?
Re: missed you at gaming last night
on 2004-07-21 01:27 pm (UTC)Bon
Re: missed you at gaming last night
on 2004-07-21 05:46 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2004-07-21 12:41 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2004-07-21 02:18 pm (UTC)Re: drama sucks
on 2004-07-21 05:45 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2004-07-24 06:01 pm (UTC)