Wednesday, March 02, 2005

It happens in three's. While saturn was returning, I got fired from three jobs in a row. This was the ONLY time in my life I was fired, let alone three times in a year.
no.not.true. haha. oh so not true.
I was bartending at Pogo's Pub, illegally and just squeeking by until my 21st birthday, and that dyke told the owner I was only 20. "That's alright *girl x* because I know you were only jealous...that was the baddest ass under-age penny draft bar on campus and plus, I had first game on getting booty. Those georgeous fraternity guys bought me many more watered down shots of Firewater than you. "I respect your anger, it was with reason." But it got me fired.

I was also fired by my parents FOUR times.
My father owns a fence company, not fence like, "I'm gonna poke you with this pointy poker" fencing, but fences for your yard, your baseball field, fences for your dog or horses to run around in. I started working for him right after I graduated from high school. I started falling asleep at my desk not long after that. I am sure I blamed it on all those watered down shots of Firewater.

I've heard of people getting fired for their blogs, but I may be the only person to get fired FOR NO REASON. When I moved to Pensacola FLA, I had a real hard time getting a job, so I took a job waiting tables at this restaurant on the beach. Since I was NEW, I had to coctail certain shifts instead of raking-in-the-dough like the "older" servers (they all had served for seven consecutive summers or more).
My certain shift was at NOON. the tables I had to wait on? SILVER. Shade? NOPE. Indeed, I had the shittiest shift ever to be scheduled. And even IF someone took the liberty of sitting at one of my tables, I had to bring them a white kitchen towel (to wipe their sweat) along with their first Bushwacker. Hell, I broke out into a sweat just wiping those tables off.

The manager, his name was "Terelle" and I pronaunced it "TER-RELL" instead of "TEAROLE" one too many times. Maybe he was racist...I dunno. But, there were pregnant women tripping over 5 gallon buckets filled with champagne bottles in the DEATHTRAP kitchen and he rolled up on me with: "Christine, I'm gonna let you go. I'm not exactly sure why."
I'm not sure if I even put up an friends were right across the street, on the beach, with Coppertone Oil SPF 2 and a Bushwacker for me.

So lets come real time in my job firing triad.
Number one was a brief self realization that I DO NOT belong waiting on tables anymore. At least, not in an overly corporate setting, where how cool you are is measured by the freakishly painted wooden buttons you pin to your shirt, or how often you kiss ass to get them. Competing for popularity with women that say "I have a shopping addiction. NO REALLY. it's an ADDICTION. I eat expensive food, I drive expensive cars, I wear expensive clothes. It's hereditary" ugh. I'm SO over that. She didn't even know what BURBERRY was. However much I long for a nice Burberry bag, I'm just not that into it. I'm not interested in letting my purse define me. ~I would give blood before I pay out that much to satisfy my lurve of that cute Coach clutch~ (however much I wish I had it) but I won't surround myself with people like that. I would if I could, but I have no tolerance.

and, of course number two (appropriately named) are the stables I mentioned earlier: First, I was doing "too good" of a job, then I was told to put a wheelbarrow of shavings in the stall to "make it look cleaner than it really is". Then I started the gator up and that woman that was scared of her horse got mad. I was watching. She was making that horse scared by the way she was acting, so of course it spooked. It hears and sees the gator fifteen times a stinking day with no problem. Then, as that mare that was "untrainable" (WHAT HORSE TRAINER CALLS A HORSE UNTRAINABLE?!) was on her way out, I had to start feeding her some supplement..."until she's gone". uh. Last time I checked it was really BADBADBAD to drug a horse that you are getting rid of, let alone stop your hack to smoke a cigarette. thrice. on top of the horse. hey, everyone does things differently but I never seen it done like that. They didn't need me anymore. I guess the look I unwittingly gave when I saw her smoking in the saddle was enough to confirm that I wasn't well liked. And also, miss puff puff, jumping a horse with a martingale on is just MEAN.

and NOW I got another one. oooh, crazy three. I got called from an application I put in a while ago. I am delivering flowers, and I LOVE it! I always wanted to deliver flowers. I haven't driven on my own yet, but I will (if I don't get fired) be driving around in a burgandy van that says "please drive carefully...the next load can be for you" on the back. I have been minding my manners and watching my P's and Q's (whatever that means). I have come to a time that I am focusing in on how I can act my age and careful to remember that it's hardly. about. ME.
-because I need some cash flow. and THAT'S what it's all about.


  1. "...the next load can be for you"?!?
    man, talk about your 'loaded' statements. Just what kind of flower establishment are they running over there anyway?

  2. haha, it's pretty funny. I'll take a picture of it and post it. While I was along on a delivery yesterday, we pulled up to this truck that was FULL of junk, turns out it's this crazy guy that like, everyone knows in Youngstown. He brings his own beer into bars and eats WHOLE RAW cloves of garlic while talking about what the stocks are doing.
    A character.
    He rolled down his window and started screaming "BE CAREFUL! BE CAREFUL! THENEXTLOADCOULDBEFORYOU!!"
    loved it.

    oh, and dan? I got number 12.


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