I had been working in a paintball warehouse re-packaging paintballs from one manufacturer into the "New and Improved" boxes of the rival company that bought them out. It was a purely 'american way' company move that paid me nine dollars an hour through a long time temp agency that I am with. The first two guys I was teamed up with were classic. The first guy did'nt even last 20 minutes. He looked like the kind of guy that was used to giving orders, not taking them. He was probably a laid off Defense Contract worker. His replacement lasted one day and then called in saying he had 'hurt his arm.' A few days later, the service called me at home and asked if I had any complaints. I told them straight up, the bullshit that was going on and the next thing I know is that two new workers show up the next day, and then we are told that the paint-ball guys are dropping MY temp service in favor of another.
That sort of thing is highly irregular to say the least. The pace of the job kept getting faster and faster, yet they would not pay us overtime to come in on Saturday even though several of us were willing. It all started to be alot like bullshit to me, so guess what kids? That's right!!, I started acting like a fucking jerk!! I started coming up with the most distracting jokes and conversation on purpose in an effort to slow down production. I had found out that on a day that I had missed, they had only done 6 goddamn pallets, yet once I came back, we had 5 and a half done by lunch. That would not have been so bad, but now I had the boss guy all on my ass and shit telling me to stop talking. I just about swung on the motherfucker, but decided to keep my cool. This treatment smacked so much of "Program" that I was about to vomit. One of the company guys let on that something bad was about to happen. He kept muttering about we were all about to get screwed and to look out at out last break. When we got back to work, I started pouring on the jazz a little hotter and this guy actually started STABBING the paintball boxes instead of opening them. I was like Day-um! When I got to the temp agency that afternoon to pick up my check, they said that I was "Let Go." I can't begin to tell you all just how much that broke my fucking heart.
I needed the next week off anyway, because my doctor has put me on some new shit called Seraquel. Holy shit Batman! I think she's on to something finally. The first dose knocked my ass out for 18 hours, then I started getting used to it. The most wonderful side effect of it is that I feel more confident and it has really dampened my desire to drink alcholic beverages. Therein lies the title of Traffic Wars...........
For years the traffic in the greater Tampa Bay Area has really, really sucked big-time. As a temp employee, I would turn down good jobs simply because the ride to and from work was such a hell hole pile of shit due to the distance and traffic that I would encounter. It has gotten so bad that traffic slows to 30mph on the interstate in some parts of Tampa and is now ACCEPTED as a part of life down here. People now skirt school zones and rip ass down neighborhood streets in an effort to get to work on time.
All said and done, I have accepted a new assignment in Tampa. It starts at 5am, so going in, the traffic should be blessedly light. I will be working at a defense plant doing God knows what for the grand sum of 7.50 an hour with the promise of overtime. I just hope the stuff I work on does not end up killing any innocent Iraqi folks. Most likely, it will just be to fill some bullshit Bush Agenda order and will wind up blowing up decoys at a training facility once Kerry is in office if all goes well.
For those reading this, you may wonder, what has all this got to do with Straight? Well, if it were'nt for Straight, I would still be exploiting myself at the asshole Paintball Warehouse giving a bunch of undeserving assholes the benefit of my superior Manic productivity, instead of pissing them off enough to let me go. As for the money, it is all the same in the long run, because it is MY efforts therefore My money, and MY goddamn self worth that makes it all worth doing. At the end of the day, once I get home it is my face I see in the bathroom mirror before I wash off an Honest days sweat, and that is what we all have to live with and live for in the grand scheme of things. Thank you for your time.......yours truly 85DJ. :rofl: :rofl:
