10.31.2004 || 22h46

CoffeeHellCo trials and tribulations

I'm home and safe, but I can't seem to relax. I'm stooping to Camomile because I'm having trouble coming down from my shift. I hate freaking Camomile, by the way. You see, my heroin-addict buddy came back and bled all over the bathroom again at the very beginning of my shift. This time I was ready, though: He'd forgotten his bag in the bathroom, so after the initial shock of the gore and drug varia, I went through the bag. he came back for it (okay, probably for the pills and shite inside it) and I told him -- quietly, of course, that if he ever came back to my café, I'd rip him in half. I have no idea what my face looked like, but he seemed somewhat convinced because he bolted.

...then came back and got the other bathroom just as my shift was ending. I got into his face big time, and made sure that the rest of the staff saw what he looked like.

But the truth be told? I ain't that tough, I'm not a big, strapping Visigoth, dripping with machismo: cleaning up after that fucker is terrifying. I don't know what he's carrying in his blood, and I'm at a half-dozen times cleaning up after him. Law of Averages states that I should probably be pricking myself on a used syringe pretty soon, and that would change things for me and for everyone that I love.

If that makes me a wimp, then I'll proudly wear the mantle. I'm not paid enough for that.

So when a drunken vagabond staggered in halfway through my shift, and proceeded to become belligerent with the clients, I took him outside and ripped him a new arsehole in both official languages. It's possible that if I'd had a nice, calm shift up til then, I'd not have discussed the drunkard's conduct with such extreme prejudice, but as it was, I told him to come back at his own peril, then I insulted his pedigree, his potential offspring, and every choice he's ever made, ending it off with a resounding chorus of ' you're not good enough to lick my shoes, let alone kissing my arse. Have a good day, sir!'

I dunno, I'm having trouble calming down. I met Mystie for supps and had to force myself to eat because my tummy was still in such knots.

Come on, Camomile, works your soporific magic...



||Gods save the Queen,
||cf

back || forth

older shite

One last little note... - 09.21.2006

de-stressing, biking and terrorism - 06.06.2006

Mildly stressed... - 05.29.2006

More crime stupidity - 05.28.2006

Scary stuff - 05.25.2006



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