[Other] Những Ngày Không Vui

ver219

The amount of bullshit I had to go through today was insanely ridiculous that deserves its own venting post.

1. Three guys came in, one stood at the register pointing his finger at me:

- Chinese?

Like, what the fuck bro, that's just plain racist and ignorant at best. How rude can one be especially you're your own kind dude. Couldn't even finish a whole sentence?

2. A phone order and asked if they could have the sauce as well. I said no problem then they said they wanted extra. I again said sure, that'd cost you extra, would that be okay with you? They were like, um NO? A big offensive NO that I could feel through the phone. They continue, why do I have to pay for it? Lmao, bruh.

They came to pick up and I rang them up. They had the audacity to say:

- I can't believe I ordered this much and you only give me this much sauce.

I looked at their silly face. Um, child, you're a grown up, you have your badge clipped on. It clearly says on the fucking menu that extra sauce costs fucking extra. What part of it you don't understand?

3. We open at 8, they came at 7.30. Wasn't my problem, wasn't my store. So, I just went on doing what was in my job description. They somehow looked annoyed that I was taking my sweet time. Um, why the hell not right? After I prepped everything and was ready to take their order.

- Can I get abc and xyz.

Paused to think.

- Can I also get qwe and rty.

Paused to imagine a menu in their little head.

- Er, sir, we have a menu just on your right.

They, again, like many other customers who think they know what they do that most of the cases, they don't, looked at me like I'm stupid.

- Yeah yeah I know. Quiet.

Lmao. At this point I just lost. Dude, if you know there's a menu, just look at the goddamn menu and order. Why do you have to stare blankly and try to recall the dishes? There are other people waiting for their turns, man.

4. A couple walked in, the guy came to pick up the food tray back to their table.

- Hey, can we get extra sauce, I really like the sauce.

- Sure, it'll be 25 cents for each. How many do you want?

- What?

- Er, like how many extra?

- Why does it cost extra?

Asdfghjkl, people, I don't make the rules. I don't make the sauce. I don't make the call. Can you just either pay the money, or just sit back and eat the food? Also, it's a quarter extra. Like, if you "really like the sauce", I trust you can spare a buck mate. Jesus Christ.

5. A party of nine came in. One guy walked to me:

- What do you have?

Bitch, what do you mean?

- We have a menu on the screen in front and one at the register, sir. Let me know if you have any question.

- No, I want you to tell me.

Er, I think the fuck not? What are you? Think you're Mr. President or what? But, I proceeded to make him happy because customers are always right. Lmao. Fact is I wanted him to get out of here fast. Yuck.

6. It's early in the morning. A man came in. He was jokingly saying ice-breakers when he saw another customer putting trash in the trash can.

- Hey, you guys should get a bigger trash can.

I half-jokingly answered.

- If you could buy one and gift one to us that would be great, ha. ha. ha.

I swear to god, if one can get offended from that one sentence, like what the fuck? Then, he saw the owner came in, he then went nuts on me of how I talked back to him, how rude I was, how I didn't know what I was doing. Like telling mom his toy got taken away. Mind you, he was in his 60s. But the thing that irked me was that he twisted all my words. He said and I quote, "that bitch said if I want one so bad, give her the fucking money."

At that point, I looked at him in the eyes and asked.

- Are you sure that was what I said?

Of course he didn't look at me, of course he went on babbling, of course he thought, if he was the one expressing anger, he would be the one who was in the right. Um, no? It only makes you like a dickhead with a superiority complex okay?

ver219

What you don’t know until you carry a tomato seedling through the airport and onto a plane is that carrying a tomato seedling through the airport and onto a plane will make people smile at you almost like you’re carrying a baby. A quiet baby. I did not know this until today, carrying my little tomato, about three or four inches high in its four-inch plastic starter pot, which my friend Michael gave to me, smirking about how I was going to get it home. Something about this, at first, felt naughty-not comparing a tomato to a baby, but carrying the tomato onto the plane-and so I slid the thing into my bag while going through security, which made them pull the bag for inspection. When the security guy saw it was a tomato he smiled and said, “I don’t know how to check that. Have a good day.” But I quickly realized that one of its stems (which I almost wrote as “arms”) was broken from the jostling, and it only had four of them, so I decided to better just carry it out in the open. And the shower of love began.

I was a shower of love I also felt while carrying a bouquet of lilies through the streets of Rome last summer. People, maybe women especially, maybe women my age-ish and older especially, smiling with approval. A woman in a housedress beating out a rug on a balcony shouted Bravo! An older couple holding hands both smiled at me and pulled into each other, knitting their fingers together. My showerers might have been a come on. And the flight attendant asked about the tomato at least five times, not an exaggeration, every time calling it “my tomato” - Where’s my tomato? How’s my tomato? You didn’t lose my tomato, didn’t you? She even directed me to an open seat in the exit row: Why don’t you guys go sit there and stretch out? I gathered my things and she let li’l guy in the window seat so she could look out. When I got my water I poured some into the li’l guy’s soil. When we got bumpy I put my hand on the li’l guy’s container, careful not to snap another arm off. And when we landed, the pilot put the brakes on hard, my arm reflexively went across the seat, holding the li’l guy in place, the way my dad’s arm would when he had to brake hard in that car without seatbelts to speak of, in one of my very favorite gestures in the encyclopedia of human gestures.

ver219

The thing about all this is that I can't do anything about it. You know what they say: you play with feelings, you catch them.

It was the summer of some time in the past. I was an employee for a private company that most of the colleagues were my friends. We got along really well and the day I got promoted to project manager, they all agreed I should take it and that they'd be gladly to work as my subordinates. I couldn't ask for more that all my friends supported my furthering.

I'd been through two big projects and dozens of small ones before I landed on a rival's client; him.

I didn't have a problem with the job. There were procedures to take and problems to solve. If you followed them closely and took precautions, it wouldn't be difficult to get your paycheck by the end of this. But, he himself got a problem with me. Don't get me wrong. I don't mind him being my client. But the fact that on the very first meeting between my team and his, he clearly stated to everyone present: "I'm sure your team is great, but it's your PM that I'm worried about." And he added nothing more; queue utter silence and looks exchanging from him to me.

I knew he was a troublemaker, but I didn't expect him to be this unprofessional. He couldn't keep private matters out of this, could he? According to my intel, he had bad personality, yet his competence and success were a complete star of the show. But why the hell me? What was he trying to do?

I didn't say a word to him and let my team finish the meeting. When I wished I couldn't grow more limbs to run out of there fast enough, he called my name when I was half way out.

"Alex, could I borrow you a couple of minutes?"

I turned my head and stared into his stupid face. I could feel everyone having their ears up while pretending to get ready to leave. I swore people wished they couldn't plaster themselves onto the walls and stayed for the whole conversation. But it was me we're talking about. I gave no one a chance to humiliate me, especially in front of my team.

"I don't think so. Goodbye."

I deadass left the conference room without another word.

The next couple of weeks I tried to avoid him as much as I could. One of the perks of being a project manager was that I didn't have to actively anticipate in the process, I could just observe and made sure everything was in place. If there were problems, the team would come to me and I would offer solutions. If there were meetings to take place, I would plan out everything and gave instructions to my assistants and they would retransmit to the team. Most of the time I stayed in my office and worked on my job from there.

I thought it would be alright from then on, hence me letting my guard down. Out of nowhere he showed up in my office while I came back from lunch. I was startled and shocked because no one came in my office that I didn't get notified first. I turned my head to my assistants sitting right in front mouthing how the fuck did he get in here? They put their hands up and mouthed back Alex, sorry, punish us...

I-

"How long have you been sitting here?" - I walked in and sat in my seat opposite of him.

"Oh, now you're talking to me." - He smirked.

"Wipe that off your face. What do you want?"

He looked at me and let out a subtle sigh.

"I just wanted to ask about your being." - He said. "And I'm sorry."

"Apology not accepted. Could you close the door on your way out?"

I didn't look at him and started working on my computer. I could feel his gaze on me and it unnerved me. I hated that he was the only one who had the ability to make me uncomfortable just by looking at me. I let out a sigh, not very subtle.

"If you want to talk, let's talk. But we are in different positions now. I now act in your capacity as a partner and you are my client. I don't get friendly with my clients."

"But we were friendly. Well, at least we used to, and then we're not. " He suddenly moved towards me.

"Couldn't you guess why?" - I asked.

ver219

hm this post was posted before. not sure why i reposted that lame shit...

ver219

There will be no stars—the poem has had enough of them. I think we can agree
we no longer believe there is anyone in any poem who is just now realizing

they are dead, so let’s stop talking about it. The skies of this poem
are teeming with winged things, and not a single innominate bird.

You’re welcome. Here, no monarchs, no moths, no cicadas doing whatever
they do in the trees. If this poem is in summer, punctuating the blue—forgive me,

I forgot, there is no blue in this poem—you’ll find the occasional
pelecinid wasp, proposals vaporized and exorbitant, angels looking

as they should. If winter, unsentimental sleet. This poem does not take place
at dawn or dusk or noon or the witching hour or the crescendoing moment

of our own remarkable birth, it is 2:53 in this poem, a Tuesday, and everyone in it is still
at work. This poem has no children; it is trying

to be taken seriously. This poem has no shards, no kittens, no myths or fairy tales,
no pomegranates or rainbows, no ex-boyfriends or manifest lovers, no mothers—God,

no mothers—no God, about which the poem must admit
it’s relieved, there is no heart in this poem, no bodily secretions, no body

referred to as the body, no one
dies or is dead in this poem, everyone in this poem is alive and pretty

okay with it. This poem will not use the word beautiful for it resists
calling a thing what it is. So what

if I’d like to tell you how I walked last night, glad, truly glad, for the first time
in a year, to be breathing, in the cold dark, to see them. The stars, I mean. Oh hell, before

something stops me—I nearly wept on the sidewalk at the sight of them all.

ver219

believe it or not it's actually august and it's been august for almost three days. which means we only have four months left until another year comes to drag our asses like it did for the last twenty something years. tragic, real tragedy. and what have i done? i've done a lot but achieved nothing. lost many things yet regret nothing. anti socialist at best and you can't even tell otherwise. it's in my blood i guess and no matter how hard i try to get out of this current situation, nothing works. everything goes wrong in every possible way. again. all over again.

ver219

the time I killed my identity it felt like shit. hurting my inside like never happened before.

i'm not your babysitter. i don't have to mind your feelings. you don't get to guilt trip me for what you feel? what are you even? who gives you the right to make other people feel like shit because of your ignorance? sit down. learn to be humble alright? you're gonna get hurt and get stomped on real soon. give it a few more years before questioning my cynical. fuck off.

ver219

it's funny because i do want to be better. to feel better. to be able to look myself in the mirror and not feel the urge to smash it. to see the daylight and not go back to bed. to live my life to the fullest and not have at least four episodes every day. to be proud of what i do. to be able to do things that i love. to know what i love. to fight for my life. to feel genuine happiness for once. i'm not asking much because this is the bare minimum. this is not stars in the sky. i feel hopeless. i feel like dying every day. i feel depressed and i feel like a piece of garbage. because i am a huge fucking failure and a big disappointment. and because i am what i am. i'm not fit for this world. and this world has never been for me.

ver219

loving you was as hard as my effort in trying to love myself
hurting you was as easy as cutting into my own flesh
the world went on without us
birds chirping, wind blowing, trees withering
i'd been sleeping on my side of bed, covering up my wounds
so the blood wouldn't stain your space
the world forgot us,
i roared in agony.

ver219

mostly i just want to be kind, not to anyone but to myself. i want to stop punishing myself. i want to give myself a chance. will this ever end? the unrelenting torment of life. where do life begin? what would it be like if it weren't for money? how do one love oneself? how to one stay in one' skin without bearing the shameful eagerness of tearing the skin apart? how do one learn to wake up and feel the same every day? how do one open one's eyes and not wanting to close again?