If you kids see or hear this headline, they are likely talking about me.
My victim? MARCO!
Another day, another dollar... that's how it's supposed to go, but for Lizzle cake, every day at work presents a new challenge. This is generally a challenge to my virtues of fortitude, and patience.
I will easily grant that I am a complainer... I do complain, but I do it in amusing ways, and I try to limit it when I can see that it is irritating others. I am in fact apologetic for it if I feel I might have overstepped my complaining boundaries after the fact. But in this instance I feel I am entitled to a little whining! My primary complaint: I am being punished because Marco sucks at life.
Today, I parted company with my mother, and went to work. (Momma drove home, she thanks you kids for all the fun she had during her stay) And despite the fact that Marco was scheduled to be at work at 9:00 AM like me, I was scrambling around by myself until roughly noon. I should note that this arrival (late or otherwise) did not bring an end to my scrambling. Rather, it perpetuated it.
You see, when Marco is "working" this means that everyone else has to work 2-3 times as hard, (especially on weekends). Weekends are the busiest time for flower slingers... especially when the weather is sunny and warm like today was. So under normal circumstances, today would've been busy, even with a full staff. Ciara was busy moving and settling in, Nate was off doing whatever Nate does, I was at the store, and Marco... well, Marco's body was there, though his work-efforts and mind were notably absent. We all work harder when Marco is "working" because despite the fact that he draws a paycheck, he doesn't really do anything. (The only thing he does well is make the rest of us look bad as a group.) We work 2-3 times harder because we not only do our own work, we also do the work Marco would be doing if he were a normal worker, we have to find crap for Marco to do that he is incapable of fucking up, we must make sure he actually does the menial crap we ask him to do, and we must undo and re-do it when he inevitably does fuck it up.
He shows up late, moves very slowly, gets distracted very easily, knows nothing about the plants we work with, is incompetent of the most menial tasks, (which means he is frequently relegated to watering while the rest of us try to pick up the slack,) and he generally creeps people out. He talks to himself, makes the home depot girls uncomfortable, and makes his co-workers hate life.
I can say all of this because I work with him, and he has stretched my patience to painful lengths... He is also responsible for a rather sizable lump on my head, as numb-nuts forgot to lock the brakes on a cart and well, my head was unable to compete with it as it rolled in my direction.
I agreed to do this job because last year it was fun and enjoyable... this year Marco has made the job an earthly preview of hell.
I will likely end up stabbing him in the heart with a rake, or a gardening trowel, or pruning shears... whatever is handy when I finally snap. (Just prepare yourself for the possibility that this blog might suddenly end because I will not have access to my computer in jail.)
I had a revelation today. It's no secret that I like to rock out while showering. I have come to the conclusion that I cannot listen to certain things while showering. - Namely live albums.
I do fine with live music, but when I am showering, and suddenly a crowd is cheering, I am a little unnerved. Despite knowing that I am alone, I find myself imagining a large crowd of people on the other side of the shower curtain, applauding my exfoliation technique. Needless to say, I am a little weirded out by that image while I am in such a "vulnerable" state.
Just thought that was weird enough to warrant mentioning.
No new quotes - I never talk to you crazy kids anymore to hear the amusing things you say!