I am not sure if I could possibly muster the words to express how much I hate my job. The prima donna coworkers, the ******** customers, and the constant contact with humans in general. My ability to read people after working day in and day out with customers for well over a decade has reached near supernatural levels. It used to be entertaining. Now I simply don't want to deal with people. It's good though because hating one's job forces the individual to work harder and more vigorously toward change. Each day my boss is an incompetent and dishonest fuckwad is another day that I don't feel bad about coming home and spending four or six or eight hours on my studies. Some day I hope to have his job. I'd like to fire him in a Donald-Trumpesque fashion. I'd even put on a bizarre toupee that morning. It's okay, Universe Willing, I've got time on my side. While his old ass is one 20 oz. Coke away from The Big One. Adversity only makes me more determined. I am a fighter. Always have been. I'll be damned... That's my answer to anyone who wants to see my burn. I'll be damned...
if I go out without a fight.
if I go out without a fight.