Shitty Jobs

thinking dome
It’s disappointing knowing that I’ve gone three years with a company and all I can put on my resume is “spoke English”. What’s more disappointing is that unlike a typical teaching position that can be considered white collar work, this was much more like working in a fast food establishment. It would be unfair to call it a blue collar job, as that would insult many blue collar workers. Instead, it’s more of a mix; maybe a sky blue collar job, or perhaps even a robin’s egg blue collar job.

Things have begun to change, and I’m at a job where I am being forced to learn, and beginning to embrace freedoms that were not afforded to me previously. At my previous company, there was never any time to use the bathroom between classes, so you would have to hold everything in until lunchtime. However, lunchtime is most often spent running to buy lunch and eating it, not shitting it. This certainly contributed to more than one “photo finish” as my pants were mere inches away from being painted with whatever I had eaten the previous day. Nearly shitting yourself on a monthly basis is not considered a healthy working environment. I would love to laugh at this situation, yet I had to live this from 8:30 to 6:15 and it began to take its toll.

Now, boasting on the internet is something only reserved to douchebags, and I wish I could say I was above that, but here we go; I have a new job that affords me the ability to use basic bodily functions whenever I need to. Are you amazed that I said that? I certainly am. Even at my job working at a grocery store, I was allowed to go to the bathroom when nature came a’callin’.

I’m feeling more bitter than than the rivalry between the Red Sox and the White Sox towards my old employer. I have a plan to make things really sweet for me during my remaining time there. From now on, I plan on doing my job half-assed, as opposed to not using any of my ass. Students react very positively to constructive criticism, but even more than that they enjoy empty affirmation. If they make a mistake, I say “good job”, and then they smile.

I’ve already implemented this technique with the most douchbaggy of students. We have a fellow by the name of Kaoru, who insists that we call him Kay because “foreigners cannot say my name correctly”. That’s the equivalent of me asking you if you enjoy raw fish because you cannot say the word sushi correctly because you are a cunt foreigner who could never possibly do anything right. (PS, fuck you Kay. You are a fucking piece of shit. Your English sucks and will never improve because you freak out when I correct you, and since I have stopped you are now “very pleased” with my teaching style. I hope you eat tiny balls of shit that look like Cocoa-Puffs for the rest of your life.)

E) Hello Kay, how are you?
K) I-am-fine-thank-you-and-you.
E) That’s a good response! Where did you learn that?
K) I am learning in junior high school to comprehension my excelling perception.
E) Yes, we am all learning to speaking in junior high school. What did you do yesterday?
K) I went to store and buy almost rice.
E) I, too love store, and almost rice. Good job Kay. Let’s open to page 420 and purge this whole bitter, awful experience from our minds.
K) Pardon?
E) Excuse you. It puts the book on the page 420.

From now on, I hope that my life will improve, but I still haven’t reached the same highs as in 1999. That’s when I would watch anime until 1am during the summer, ride my bike to a girl’s house, return home at 3am and then play Starcraft and eat Cocoa-Puffs, then save the chocolatey milk to drink for lunch, which was actually breakfast because I woke up at 2pm. I don’t know if being old and having access to booze is better than being 18.

I’m cracking a new beer to salute an old shitty job that I am more than ready to flush. Kanpai.

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