Poopy's new job.

Seeing as I was ineligble for unemployment, and the lawyer I saw for suing my last job for wrongful termination actually *laughed* me out of his office (I wonder if he'd appreciate a call to the Bar Association...) my New Year's resolution was to find a new job.

I thought it would take a lot longer, but unfortunately, I finally found one.

I used to have a great job in software sales. Now, I close a fucking Subway. It's a simple job; just slap on the meat (something I'm an expert at) ask what the customer wants on the sandwich, fend off their retarded questions about how many carbs are in the cold cuts, or if there's gluten in the fucking bread.

The manager (a fat Christian lady with a kitten embroidered on the side of huge handbag) is a total cunt. I got written up for being a half-hour late the other day. In my other job, you could be a half hour late and spend another half hour maxing chicks from the coffee machine and no one would care. She wrote me up again today for being (in her words) "a pottymouth". Go suck some more Jesus cock you dumb douche.

At least I only have to put up with her for a few hours in the afternoon. Then it's just me and some other shithead until nine o'clock. My coworkers are total mutants. One of them is the manager's nephew and all he talks about is how he wants to learn everything he can so he can get into "manager training". Pathetic Dudley Do-Right, but at least bearable. Not as bad as Celvin though. This skinny fuck spends half of his shift in the bathroom shooting heroin while I do everything up front. Plus I think he has AIDS. I have the sick urge to wipe a asiago cheese/parmesean bun over his supperated, HIV infected track marks and then serving it to a customer.

Worse though is the customers. I don't have to deal with the worst of the yuppie lunch rush, though I did have to deal with some cellphone talking asshole that was pissed I didn't put enough tomatoes on his sandwich (there's a shortage scumfuck, shut up). At night, mostly I have to scoot off homeless pieces of shit that think they have the right to stay in our restaurant all night just because they bought a soda. I have to soak my hand in gasoline just to get the fleas off my hand after I throw them out.

Plus fuck all the Mexicans. Seriously, if you can't say "Number Four" in English, get out of my country. I didn't know that you were pointing at the olives through the fucking glass. And don't get an attitude with me because I don't speak your filthy language.

Worst are the welfare mothers. There's a fat white bitch who keeps bringing all seven of her kids in every day. They all have different daddies, you can tell because one looks half-black, another half-Mexican. She talks like a wigger too, always asking me if she can pay for their order with food stamps. Why is she taking her kids to Subway? Half of them don't even have shoes. The other half don't have shirts.

After nine o'clock, I have the store all to myself for two hours. I whittle away the time by fucking with the food. We're supposed to prep the cold cuts for the next day. I wipe the pieces of baloney between my ass crack in the back before folding it between butcher paper. I pissed in the jar of pickles that came in with the new order. They'll be marinating in my urine for at least two days before they get served.

I flick boogers into the bread dough, stuck my cock in the mayonaisse. I filled two bags of shredded lettuce with my pubic hairs. Hell, the other night I tried to find out how many cucumber slices I could stuff up my asshole before crapping them back out into the cold tray.
Yes, you Subway eating social rejects. You are taking a piece of Poopy with your low carb wraps or Red Vinagrette Club (the vinagrette dressing is perfect for jerk off lube, by the way). My job is shit, but you're eating mine. Fuck you all.