Going For A Morning Blog
Quote montage:
“They never rent quality flicks. They always pick the most intellectually devoid movies on the rack.”
“This job would be great if it wasn't for the fucking customers.”
“Bunch of savages in this town.”
~~ Jeff Anderson, ‘Clerks.’
“Loyal Americans
who love their collars colored 40 hours
A spade is still a spade,
a collar’s still a collar.
Whether it be blue or white
it’s still around your neck,
the silk leash nice and tight
your wife helped pick it out .
The irony is that you worked 3 hours for it
you wish you could ignore it ...
You’re a hooker!” ~~ NOFX, ‘Pimps And Hookers’
"The Edge... There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over” ~~ Dr. Hunter S. Thompson
“A laugh can be a very powerful thing. Why, sometimes in life, it's the only weapon we have.” ~~ Roger Rabbit
Okay, I just threw that last one in because it’s my favorite movie quote of all time. And if it made you laugh or giggle or chuckle or even smirk, then I have no regrets.
Anyway, I’m free! Cut loose from the shackles of corporate oppression. And damn the man.
I’ve quit my job at the video store. As fun as it was having no responsibility whatsoever, it was NOT fun working crappy hours and getting yelled at by moronic customers and being pressured to SELL SELL SELL. And my jaw is sore from sucking corporate cock.
So, I’m no longer a video store tool, which means Alysia can stop calling me a pussy.
On the other hand, I’m also unemployed.
Which is more impressive to women? Working, even if I’m a part-time clerk at a video store, or being unemployed in general?
Of course, I could point out that I co-founded a non-profit organization, and that the future of said organization looks quite sunny. But non-profit doesn’t pay the (dinner) bills, so it probably wont’ get me much farther than an above-average interest in what I do.
Of course, the punk side of me wants to lash out and say, “Damn the man, and damn greedy women.”
But that won’t get me laid. So pretty much, I’m gonna make shit up on the spot and act confident.
As for my actual quitting, it wasn’t a spectacle. Which is a shame. Quitting any sort of minimum-wage job (I made slightly more, but you know what I mean) should never be easy for the management. As of now, I’m going to fade away. A trained professional vanishes, but that’s ok, there’ll be plenty more to piss away in the future.
If you want to be remembered, be a legend, a legacy, an outlaw, a superhero that gives children someone to look up to, you need to do something grand. And the latter rules out shooting obnoxious customers. So I’ve been seeking something more creative. Less a crime statistic and more of a, ‘Damn, that was awesome” sort of thing.
I had this very discussion with my friend Colin, who had a fantastic story about quitting a job:
Colin: Uh, so I got another job, modelling tube socks.
Dubious Employer: No you didn’t.
Colin: Well, I know it isn’t much, but at least I’ve got my foot in the door.
Ah, how I love clever puns. And that would do it. If the manager ever GOT the joke, I’m sure he’s told it to a thousand people (I know I have).
But, I’m not as witty as Colin. And much more of a showman. So I decided to hatch my own plan, one with fervent panache. With Duffman’s help, here’s what I came up with:
Duff and his cronies screech into the Family Video parking lot in an unmarked van.
They dash into the video store carrying baseball bats, a crow bar and a boombox blaring, “Guns of Brixton” by The Clash.
Duff: TREVOR! You fucker. You dicked us over HARD on that deal. Now you gonna PAY!
Trevor (terrified): How did you find me?
One of his cronies clubs me over the head, and drags my limp body out of the store. Duff looks to my manager.
Duff: He quits, bitch.
Then the van screeches away, and the video store never hears from me again.
We could even lace it with movie references. The cronies could be wearing Richard Nixon masks. Duff could scream, “WHAT DOES MARSELLUS WALLACE LOOK LIKE? DOES HE LOOK LIKE A BITCH?” I could try explaining that I used their plutonium for my time machine, and gave them a case made of used pinball machine parts in return.
Of course, none of our customers are savvy enough to get any of those references, so maybe not.
Anyway, I went without too much of a struggle, but I am indeed free.
And besides, the scenarios above would be awesome in a movie …
Peace and love,
Nas-T
“They never rent quality flicks. They always pick the most intellectually devoid movies on the rack.”
“This job would be great if it wasn't for the fucking customers.”
“Bunch of savages in this town.”
~~ Jeff Anderson, ‘Clerks.’
“Loyal Americans
who love their collars colored 40 hours
A spade is still a spade,
a collar’s still a collar.
Whether it be blue or white
it’s still around your neck,
the silk leash nice and tight
your wife helped pick it out .
The irony is that you worked 3 hours for it
you wish you could ignore it ...
You’re a hooker!” ~~ NOFX, ‘Pimps And Hookers’
"The Edge... There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over” ~~ Dr. Hunter S. Thompson
“A laugh can be a very powerful thing. Why, sometimes in life, it's the only weapon we have.” ~~ Roger Rabbit
Okay, I just threw that last one in because it’s my favorite movie quote of all time. And if it made you laugh or giggle or chuckle or even smirk, then I have no regrets.
Anyway, I’m free! Cut loose from the shackles of corporate oppression. And damn the man.
I’ve quit my job at the video store. As fun as it was having no responsibility whatsoever, it was NOT fun working crappy hours and getting yelled at by moronic customers and being pressured to SELL SELL SELL. And my jaw is sore from sucking corporate cock.
So, I’m no longer a video store tool, which means Alysia can stop calling me a pussy.
On the other hand, I’m also unemployed.
Which is more impressive to women? Working, even if I’m a part-time clerk at a video store, or being unemployed in general?
Of course, I could point out that I co-founded a non-profit organization, and that the future of said organization looks quite sunny. But non-profit doesn’t pay the (dinner) bills, so it probably wont’ get me much farther than an above-average interest in what I do.
Of course, the punk side of me wants to lash out and say, “Damn the man, and damn greedy women.”
But that won’t get me laid. So pretty much, I’m gonna make shit up on the spot and act confident.
As for my actual quitting, it wasn’t a spectacle. Which is a shame. Quitting any sort of minimum-wage job (I made slightly more, but you know what I mean) should never be easy for the management. As of now, I’m going to fade away. A trained professional vanishes, but that’s ok, there’ll be plenty more to piss away in the future.
If you want to be remembered, be a legend, a legacy, an outlaw, a superhero that gives children someone to look up to, you need to do something grand. And the latter rules out shooting obnoxious customers. So I’ve been seeking something more creative. Less a crime statistic and more of a, ‘Damn, that was awesome” sort of thing.
I had this very discussion with my friend Colin, who had a fantastic story about quitting a job:
Colin: Uh, so I got another job, modelling tube socks.
Dubious Employer: No you didn’t.
Colin: Well, I know it isn’t much, but at least I’ve got my foot in the door.
Ah, how I love clever puns. And that would do it. If the manager ever GOT the joke, I’m sure he’s told it to a thousand people (I know I have).
But, I’m not as witty as Colin. And much more of a showman. So I decided to hatch my own plan, one with fervent panache. With Duffman’s help, here’s what I came up with:
Duff and his cronies screech into the Family Video parking lot in an unmarked van.
They dash into the video store carrying baseball bats, a crow bar and a boombox blaring, “Guns of Brixton” by The Clash.
Duff: TREVOR! You fucker. You dicked us over HARD on that deal. Now you gonna PAY!
Trevor (terrified): How did you find me?
One of his cronies clubs me over the head, and drags my limp body out of the store. Duff looks to my manager.
Duff: He quits, bitch.
Then the van screeches away, and the video store never hears from me again.
We could even lace it with movie references. The cronies could be wearing Richard Nixon masks. Duff could scream, “WHAT DOES MARSELLUS WALLACE LOOK LIKE? DOES HE LOOK LIKE A BITCH?” I could try explaining that I used their plutonium for my time machine, and gave them a case made of used pinball machine parts in return.
Of course, none of our customers are savvy enough to get any of those references, so maybe not.
Anyway, I went without too much of a struggle, but I am indeed free.
And besides, the scenarios above would be awesome in a movie …
Peace and love,
Nas-T
posted by Sketch E. at 4:40 AM
6 Comments:
Trevor! you ROCK!! yay that you are free! yay that we should hang out! yay that i'm writing this while i'm at "work". damn the man indeed. :)
Hey T-bag
I wish I had a job to quit.
Ann K Flynn
they did make a movie like that. well, sorta.
*cecil b. demented*
(alex)
Let's all quit our jobs, combine our final paychecks and buy an assload of lottery tickets. One of us is bound to win, and then we can all live in a party house, sleep 'til 2 p.m. and never deal with another customer, ever.
hahaha
"he quits, bitch"... thats the greates plan ever.. and its making me laugh out loud in the middle of class and people are giving me strange looks. but thats ok.
its funny, bitches
it was me. its the comment i always dreamed of. "i rule!"
b
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