spoiled rotten

i remember when you told me,

yes, you are spoiled.

and i got bummed, then you added,

it's not necessarily a bad thing.

and i got happy.

but today my boss said i'm spoiled. and, well, i am.

i don't mean to be all seeming privileged. and i do work very, very hard. so what breaks i get, come to me in some form of spoiling, i guess.

but i'm tired now and just took on two shifts monday and tuesday, but i get thursday off. i'll be dragging by then. so i invited my dear friend to swim with me and my girl.

i was going to sleep as late as possible tomorrow, but we're all scrambling to cover a shift who has taken ill. i'm helping out my boss. and the monday shift came to me because our newest shift looked worse than i do on my bad days, and she said,

i just need a break.

and so, i'm giving her a break. at the expense of mine, but this is the price we pay to be a team. and i'm losing a closing in the process, so that is good for me. closing is a lot of work.

i just hope when i need it, someone, anyone will be there to catch me when i fall.

i'm missing the little piddly shit now though. no longer making the major mistakes at work, just the fine tuning. which makes me happy. i work too hard to be missing the big shit at this point.

and, no one is perfect, so the little shit is going to happen.

i just can't wait until i'm not the newbie and they stop pestering me about the little shit. it gets old.

my boss says you all the time. i need to ask him to stop. because it is very easy to take things personally when someone is youing me.

you broke this, you did that, you missed this, you missed that.

when it wasn't necessarily, or specifically me, it may have been my crew (the kid i asked to clean his own espresso machine dishes clogged the sink drain with grounds and whole beans. my boss told me,

you clogged the sink ...)

and i knew it was the kid, but it was on my watch, i take the hit. no blaming. i'm the shift. it's my fault the drain got clogged. though i swear, so many of these kids (all of them taller than me, and kids is a strange descriptive), have been there twice as long as i have.

but i'm tired, it's way late. and now, i've got to get my ass out the door by 11am. that's early to me. because i like to work out on monday and do laundry. guess all that is going to have to wait.

but we had a good time tonight. no tension. no hassles. the kids i was with work hard and well. there is a lot to do. i don't like giving them shit for nothing. i try to keep it positive, and say,

good job

a lot.

i like to be told when i've done a good job. it can't hurt, right?

and tonight a customer, the musician who may laydown my poetry trax, said

you look too young to have an 11 year old.

good genes,

he said.

black don't crack.

i said, and he laughed.

i took it as a compliment. it's good to be getting younger as i age. something's going right for me. but i got the aches and pains like nobody's business. i try specifically to do squats, and sometimes, oh mama. at work, no, bad idea. those are the times i feel older. like there is some age difference i must remember. but mostly, there isn't. and i'm grateful for that.

i saw a fat little possum (or big perhaps, who knows?) crossing the road tonight. i watched him, they really are foul looking creatures.

run, little possum, run,

i cheer him on as he darts up the curb and toward the police station (yes, another one. i can't seem to get away from them. but these cops are cool. they called me and said,

is this your car, we're going to enforce such and such, and we don't want to give you guys tickets, we love you guys.

which was nice. and since i bag on the cops a lot. not so much bag on them as fear them, it's nice to once again have some good relations with them.)

oh, and my excavator customer with the looks could kill girlfriend came in tonight. i apologized if i got him in trouble.

i never do that,

i said.

and she didn't look happy.

i added.

she's not like that,

he said.

don't think of her that way.

and i thought. shows how little men know.

women can tell. whatever, not like it matters to me. he really just doesn't know what he's getting. but then again, do any of us ever really know? i mean, even after we got it. probably not. i think, mostly, we're blind. and we like it that way.

peace.
out.