Neglect

I again appear to have neglected my blog, mainly due to me being a douche. So sorry for that...

I need to have a quick rant about my job. well. not really about my job. more about some people that do my job so FUCKING SLOWLY.

Its not even a hard job.

I'm an usher at the local theatre. Easiest job ever. Your lines consist of:

"sit down, shut up, watch the show" and then at the end you say "cheers, now get out" and clear up all the shit that they left behind. then you go home being paid for 4 hours work when really you only did about 1 hours work.

Problems arise when a stupid fat bitch on your team is sooooooooooooo slow at clearing up. The show finished, it was 9:15. Imagine you are working in the stalls (that's the bottom bit, stage level, for you un-educated folk) and everyone has just left, you have 300 seats to make sure are clean. you go along clearing up drinks, sweets, lolly sticks, mysterious substances (both brown and green) and as you get to the last 20 seats you realise that they spilled popcorn all over the floor. Bastards. But you brave it. you get your hands and scoop up all the popcorn. it seems like a never ending mountain, and with each scoop your hand gets more and more sticky, making this task all the more challenging. you wipe the sweat from your brow, smearing exploded corn particles all over your face, making you undesirably sticky and incredibly unattractive. But its your job. you need to do it. you need the money so you can afford everything your heart desires, like food and toilet paper. your not allowed to desire anymore, cos that's pushing it and at the end of the day, it ain't gonna happen no matter how much popcorn you clear up.

Having done that you can rest assured in the knowledge that it has taken you longer to clear 300 seats than it has for the girl upstairs to clear 100.

WELL YOU'D BE FUCKING WRONG!!!!

She is waddling down to the bar (the other end of the venue) to get a dustpan and brush. You casually ask her WHY she is walking slower than a cripple (minus the wheelchair) down to the bar, and she tells you, in a very cheerful way (because she really really REALLY enjoys her job) that someone seems to have spilt popcorn on the floor... so she NEEDS a dustpan and brush to sweep it up. WHAT THE FUCK. The bitch is so fat she probably spent her life eating popcorn of the floor, fucking hell. so then you walk with her, slower then your dead grandma walks, to go and get the dustpan and brush and then walk with her slower than the snail you just squashed under your shoe walks all the way back to the site of the crime, where you witness this mountain of popcorn she needs to sweep up.

You see 5 kernals.

5.

*explodes*