OMGWTFBBQ

maybe i wasn't paying enough attention to the jackass in front of me, but tonight, just like my last car wreck, was all about the inescapable laws of physics and crunched metal.

only it had more to do with press-gainey scores and hearsay.

let's not get to wrapped up in details, shall we? the fact remains that freeman hospital's kitchen continues to "flounder," meaning our current survey scores are lower than those past. and what does this mean? absolutely nothing. except that someone has to pay.

blame it on the goddamned parsley.

she did. i'm called into the office with a fellow coworker and bombarded with a desk-sized hunk of bullshit right off the bat. "you do know you are supposed to put garnish on every tray, correct?" furious nodding. "i've heard about some problems with this recently." blank stares. "what it comes down to is our scores. we're too good of a department to be where we're at currently."

i think i may have drooled on my namebadge at this point. i'm abruptly reintroduced to the foodservice world with weighty phrases such as "let go" and "final solution." minus the zyclon-b, of course - HR would have had a hayday with that.

i bolt into action, my mind racing to keep up with this ludicrous ruse, "is this about morgan's fit over the LETTUCE this weekend? because she got all up in my face over that and i just followed suit. it's a friggin huge piece of LETTUCE. . . "

"no, no, it's nothing to do with that. mr. s*******, i realize you are looking for another job. now i wouldn't mind hurrying you on your way by making you find other arrangements,"

i know for a fact that my jaw hit the floor just then. nearly four years working my ass off for a bunch of egotistical soccer moms and former tweakers, ONE with a fucking BA, and i'm being threatened the boot for fucking parsley?! aside from that, one of the primary reasons i hate my current job so much is the inexplicable emphasis placed upon those wilted pieces of greenery that i configure on so many plates of goop every night. no way. this is insane.

fuck loyalty, fuck standupedness, and fuck that goddamned fucking kitchen. my record obviously means nothing to the cocksmokers and all the time spent there suddenly feels like a monumental waste.

then again, it could be the hand of God spurring me to action - it's not like i haven't sent out enough resumes and applications over the past three weeks, but maybe i am supposed to feel a stronger sense of urgency.

i do. i need a new job. psychos and uberbitches need not place ads in the classifieds, kkthx.

/funk

every day's just like the last
you sit and wait for time to pass
you swear you'd sell your soul for some change
you don't believe that life occurs
in between meaningful words
you starve yourself to death on the mundane

it's a sort of waking death
that steals your heart but leaves you breath
a cold and brutal winter of the soul
you'll sit and weep at the sunrise
further consumed by all the lies
that make you human, a piece of the whole

but it can't be all that bad
if you don't remember what it was you had
this numbness dissipates with memory
leaves me shivering that much more
if i shake myself to pieces
can i be restored?


i was in a horrible, horrible, horrible, no-good, very bad mood today. beers at the pub [as per usual] with the guys seemed to fix me right up. i need a new job. the move went extremely well [i only have THREE boxes left to unpack. god only knows where the hell the crap they contain is going to fit] and hannah and i are fairly settled in. i'm impatient for the next accountability meeting with griff, nat, nate, jason and jon - which is good, because i've messed up enough already these past two days. here's to hoping i'm more typative tomorrow.