i was hard at work today, cracking up because i couldn't get the phrase 'polishing a turd' out of my head.
because that is what i spent my entire day doing. all eight hours of it.
that, and fighting the urge to do passive aggressive things and curse some people out.
never in my life have i seen so many suits trying to look busy while standing around, supervising. because there was nothing to supervise.
it was ridiculous.
and i fumed, while i did more work than all ten of them combined. while they watched me work, and talked in hushed voices while stealing glances at me.
this isn't paranoid speak. this is what was really happening. and they were being obvious and shady.
all of this, because they don't want us around, and would much rather have all the cash flow on their end.
they tried to cast us out. and when our customers flipped out about it, they backed off.
they are screwing themselves in a couple ways. it is going to be cold soon. and they're only offering soup, sandwiches, and coffee, and pastries. the same pastries we sell. and *bux coffee. remind me again why we're even there. oh, and tea. the same tea we sell. and they're undercutting our prices on everything. and jacking up the prices on all of their lunch items. this is what was being discussed amongst them.
that, and my polished turd.
i think they are going to kill their traffic, which will in turn kill our traffic.
i give it a month.
all this work.
all this time and effort.
and meanwhile, because they excluded us from the plans to update the room we share in the hospital, our same tired cart from 1992, in all its green marble laminate glory, has seen better days a decade ago. and now we stick out like a sore thumb. a gangrenous sore thumb.
but today, a friend helped me discover hyperbole and a half.
it is awesome.
this is lodged in my brain:
"Then I realized that I was sitting in a Safeway parking lot, consumed by anxiety over whether some fictional being that grants wishes was going to screw me out of my wish through a technical loophole involving death, brain damage or prolonged unconsciousness.
It made me feel slightly uncomfortable that I'm the person making all the decisions about my life."
it was a mini comic about a shooting star, and making a wish.
and i have had this internal dialogue with myself so many times. sometimes, they're birthday wishes, or 11:11 wishes. it's pretty funny stuff. and that last line kills me.
getting ready for the show. and the subsequent bbq.