Saturday, June 30, 2012
On Strike
Someone asked me why I was sleeping in the parking lot and I told them I was on strike against my employment agency. I got assigned a job a ways north and I drove there expecting an 8 hour gig and got 4 hours. The tile setter had fucked up the arrangement of new tiles and I tore them up faster than they had anticipated, saving some and tossing the rest, badly bruising my right calf on the dumpster and breathing more mortar dust than legally allowed by God. Brand new building. $25,000 mistake. Oggy's total payment after Uncle Sam's mexican mordida was $27. Problem is that it cost me $32 in gas to get there and back. So if I had taken the day off and walked down to Tacos More and bought $5 worth of barbacoa and Jarritos it would've been the exact same financial outcome. Of course, minus the bleeding face from flying chips of tile. It was actually the most laughably lopsided ticket I've ever had from any day labor operation. I seriously laughed when Kourtney handed me the check. Her indifference was priceless as she clicked shoe styles on the computer. The best is that I lost more money when I went to the Pakistani grocer's to cash the check. So I decided to strike because I'm a disgusting Communist.
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