Job.

Yeah, so I got suspended today.

According to the one manager who's managed to witness most of my mistakes, I'm not catching on, too slow, making too many mistakes.  I take too long counting down the drawer (I was given a tip just before he talked to me about what to fill in that would not necessitate counting it twice) and don't have the menu memorized.

I have never seen anyone else being quizzed on the menu, but then again, he is good at taking people aside and out of view of others for quiet dressings-down.

One slow day.  One slow day and I'm as good as fired.  Three days ago I was told I was doing a good job.

I really needed this job.

He says give them a buzz when I want to try again, and have the menu memorized, and they'll put me back on the schedule.

I want to be calm, and understanding, and not say anything that could possibly be traced back to me or googled and fuck me over for getting back in again.

Then again, I want to say a hearty fuck-you to my manager, who has managed to attempt to confirm my own doubts about my reliability, ability, and speed of learning.  Thanks so much.  I really needed that.

Now, since I'm clearly not cut out for either intellectual academic work or low-level hour-slave restaurant work, and my art doesn't sell, where does that leave me?

Job, cont.

I am not depressed about this.  I refuse to slump into sadness.  I am angry.  And I am upset.  And like fuck will I allow myself to slide back into slumpen apathy.

They can take my job away, but they cannot take the benefits that brief spate of employment brought me.  I have lost weight.  I have gotten stronger.  I have gotten more cheerful.  I have gotten more active.

And I will stay that way, though it may not be for Panera I do it.


Fucking demi-evil corporation.

...cat, stop licking my face and get away from my chicken soup.