Someone kicked me in the head. No, it just feels that way. Like a rubber soled tennis shoe attached to a leg cocked back in ready mode, ready to slam into my head on the ‘go’ of Ready, Set, Go! The phantom bump on the base of my skull aches.
It’s just pressure. The day’s failure oppresses me and manifests itself in an overblown-balloon-ready-to-pop tension. That’s me. Ready to pop. And it’s not popping time. Not for 4 more hours on this miserable shift.
To boot, the lady who pulled down the lever on a broken machine marked “out of service” complained about the dripped water on her food and wants to start her frozen yogurt creation over. Whatever. Sign of the times. Stupid.
I’m stupid. I spent all day writing for two new clients, two good blog pieces, solid stuff, just to blow the deadline on one by a minute and the instructions on the other. I actually wrote the wrong thing, on the wrong topic. How could I have misread the directions, completely ignoring the point of the whole blog site?! I could not even argue the post was remotely related, though I did offer to fix it.
But first impressions are lasting, and I made a shitty one. Twice. Two jobs lost in one afternoon. Impressive–Not. Hours of work for no pay. My fault. And the drum in my head keeps beating it: Twice. Work. Zero. Pay. Zero. Work. Twice. No. Pay.
Sometimes the climb out of hell hits loose, slippery, rocky mountainside. I slipped and fell, though I probably won’t make the same mistake again. I hope. Back to the grind.
“No, see the sign? It says it’s out of service, so you hit stale water, not yogurt. Yeah, I guess you should have read the sign. No, it’s all right. Start over.” I smile weakly. She takes her do-over in sheepish confusion. I’ll take mine tomorrow.
In the gaze of the other 