Tuesday, March 21, 2006

No Sanctuary

I won't say that I almost got into a fist-fight tonight, but some stupid gangster at work got all up in my face like he wanted to. The gangster comes in a few hours later than me and his job is to peel off all of the plastic and cardboard and bubblewrap from the couches like it's Christmas morning and to put together dressers and stuff before they are delivered to people's houses. He spread out all the furniture that we had lined up to make a little sanctuary for himself but he did not leave any room for us tuggers to drop off anymore furniture at that truck.

When I showed up to drop off a couch I saw all of this and I started organizing the furniture to make room. The gangster noticed me and started cussing and yelling at me. He only said three sentences over and over: "Don't f**king touch that! This is my f**king job! Go do your f**king job!" Then he came stomping over to me like he meant business and started yelling them in my face. I think he was genuinely surprised that I didn't scamper off like some stray dog he had just kicked.

First of all, I have illustrated how everyone I work with talks the talk but no one seems to walk the walk when it comes to being tough. This knowledge made it impossible to be scared. And "F**king do this, motherf**ker!" is how business gets done there. If I hear that 10 hours a day, everyday, then cussing at me to scare me off just isn't going to work. They have overused the words so much in trying to be tough all the time that they have become meaningless. Nothing short of a boxcutter in my face or the gangster with his dumb hat floating on his curly afro running at me with his fist in the air with his homeboys all beside him is going to make me back off.

The sad part is that I think I have become truly apethetic enough that I was okay with the idea of letting him start a fistfight at two in the morning in a warehouse on the edge of town OVER COUCHES! You want to throw a punch because I moved your stupid couch? Be my guest. Just don't hit me in the zit.

At my computer job the most pathetic part of my day was when I would microwave a burrito at 1 am and eat it alone... in silence... waiting to go back to my cubicle so I could just get another day over with. Being face to face with the couch moron brought back lame flashbacks of facing bullies when I was twelve years old. It was another highlight of pathetic work moments.

The moron just kept shouting the same three sentences. I shouted, "I'm trying to do my job! You need to make room, there is MORE coming. If you don't do it, I WILL!" How is that for a threat? That's right. I'm pretty macho, too.

Then I walked off, dropped off the couch and made more room that others could use.

I know that everyone wants me to be happy. They want me to put a positive spin on what I see out there. But I'm just going to keep calling things as I see them. I know, I know: I need a new job. Yeah, yeah, I'll get right on that.


Native Minnow said...

Tough guy!!!

(That's right, I'm talking about you. Whatcha gonna' do about it?)

ShootingStar said...

I had a long conversatin w/ a friend of mine the other day about fistfights. Neither of us had been in one, and both of us wondered if maybe it was something we should experience (I think I've finally seen fight club one to many times). I have some pretty cool biceps right now (well cool for me) so they make me feel tough. So maybe I'm trying to say that if you need a homegirl to come out there and back you up in a fight--just let me know :).

Another point: I want you to be happy--but putting a positive spin on your life and being happy are 2 different things. Keep calling it like it is. I respect you for that.

Native Minnow said...

Did you call him Pookie? You should have called him Pookie.

Gordon said...

I came in at a sweet 75 percent last month. I just got back from a week of vacation...and it didn't help much. Full vest hits in May.

PsychoIntern said...

You should have unleashed the awesome power your pasta arms possess...(I am still stuck on that funny blog about spaghetti arms).